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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/709-h.zip b/709-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1ef5d05 --- /dev/null +++ b/709-h.zip diff --git a/709-h/709-h.htm b/709-h/709-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..401c63b --- /dev/null +++ b/709-h/709-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8789 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of The Princess and the Curdie, +by George MacDonald +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: small } + +P.letter {font-size: small ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.finis { text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The Princess and the Curdie, by George MacDonald + +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 Princess and the Curdie + +Author: George MacDonald + +Posting Date: September 27, 2008 [EBook #709] +Release Date: November, 1996 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRINCESS AND THE CURDIE *** + + + + +Produced by Jo Churcher. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto" cellpadding="4" border="3"> +<tr> +<td> +THERE IS AN ILLUSTRATED EDITION OF THIS TITLE WHICH MAY VIEWED AT EBOOK <big><b><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/36612"> +[# 36612 ]</a></b></big> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +The Princess and Curdie +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +by +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +George MacDonald +</H2> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">1 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">The Mountain</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">2 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">The White Pigeon</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">3 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">The Mistress of the Silver Moon</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">4 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">Curdie's Father and Mother</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">5 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">The Miners</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">6 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">The Emerald</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">7 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">What Is in a Name?</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">8 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">Curdie's Mission</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">9 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">Hands</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">10 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">The Heath</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">11 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">Lina</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">12 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">More Creatures</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">13 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">The Baker's Wife</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">14 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">The Dogs of Gwyntystorm</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">15 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">Derba and Barbara</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">16 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">The Mattock</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">17 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">The Wine Cellar</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">18 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">The King's Kitchen</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">19 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">The King's Chamber</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">20 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">Counterplotting</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">21 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap21">The Loaf</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">22 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap22">The Lord Chamberlain</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">23 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap23">Dr Kelman</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">24 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap24">The Prophecy</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">25 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap25">The Avengers</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">26 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap26">The Vengeance</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">27 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap27">More Vengeance</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">28 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap28">The Preacher</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">29 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap29">Barbara</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">30 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap30">Peter</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">31 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap31">The Sacrifice</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">32 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap32">The King's Army</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">33 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap33">The Battle</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">34 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap34">Judgement</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">35 </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap35">The End</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 1 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Mountain +</H3> + +<P> +Curdie was the son of Peter the miner. He lived with his father and +mother in a cottage built on a mountain, and he worked with his father +inside the mountain. +</P> + +<P> +A mountain is a strange and awful thing. In old times, without knowing +so much of their strangeness and awfulness as we do, people were yet +more afraid of mountains. But then somehow they had not come to see +how beautiful they are as well as awful, and they hated them—and what +people hate they must fear. Now that we have learned to look at them +with admiration, perhaps we do not feel quite awe enough of them. To +me they are beautiful terrors. +</P> + +<P> +I will try to tell you what they are. They are portions of the heart +of the earth that have escaped from the dungeon down below, and rushed +up and out. For the heart of the earth is a great wallowing mass, not +of blood, as in the hearts of men and animals, but of glowing hot, +melted metals and stones. And as our hearts keep us alive, so that +great lump of heat keeps the earth alive: it is a huge power of buried +sunlight—that is what it is. +</P> + +<P> +Now think: out of that cauldron, where all the bubbles would be as big +as the Alps if it could get room for its boiling, certain bubbles have +bubbled out and escaped—up and away, and there they stand in the cool, +cold sky—mountains. Think of the change, and you will no more wonder +that there should be something awful about the very look of a mountain: +from the darkness—for where the light has nothing to shine upon, much +the same as darkness—from the heat, from the endless tumult of boiling +unrest—up, with a sudden heavenward shoot, into the wind, and the +cold, and the starshine, and a cloak of snow that lies like ermine +above the blue-green mail of the glaciers; and the great sun, their +grandfather, up there in the sky; and their little old cold aunt, the +moon, that comes wandering about the house at night; and everlasting +stillness, except for the wind that turns the rocks and caverns into a +roaring organ for the young archangels that are studying how to let out +the pent-up praises of their hearts, and the molten music of the +streams, rushing ever from the bosoms of the glaciers fresh born. +</P> + +<P> +Think, too, of the change in their own substance—no longer molten and +soft, heaving and glowing, but hard and shining and cold. Think of the +creatures scampering over and burrowing in it, and the birds building +their nests upon it, and the trees growing out of its sides, like hair +to clothe it, and the lovely grass in the valleys, and the gracious +flowers even at the very edge of its armour of ice, like the rich +embroidery of the garment below, and the rivers galloping down the +valleys in a tumult of white and green! And along with all these, +think of the terrible precipices down which the traveller may fall and +be lost, and the frightful gulfs of blue air cracked in the glaciers, +and the dark profound lakes, covered like little arctic oceans with +floating lumps of ice. +</P> + +<P> +All this outside the mountain! But the inside, who shall tell what +lies there? Caverns of awfullest solitude, their walls miles thick, +sparkling with ores of gold or silver, copper or iron, tin or mercury, +studded perhaps with precious stones—perhaps a brook, with eyeless +fish in it, running, running ceaselessly, cold and babbling, through +banks crusted with carbuncles and golden topazes, or over a gravel of +which some of the stones arc rubies and emeralds, perhaps diamonds and +sapphires—who can tell?—and whoever can't tell is free to think—all +waiting to flash, waiting for millions of ages—ever since the earth +flew off from the sun, a great blot of fire, and began to cool. +</P> + +<P> +Then there are caverns full of water, numbingly cold, fiercely +hot—hotter than any boiling water. From some of these the water +cannot get out, and from others it runs in channels as the blood in the +body: little veins bring it down from the ice above into the great +caverns of the mountain's heart, whence the arteries let it out again, +gushing in pipes and clefts and ducts of all shapes and kinds, through +and through its bulk, until it springs newborn to the light, and rushes +down the Mountainside in torrents, and down the valleys in +rivers—down, down, rejoicing, to the mighty lungs of the world, that +is the sea, where it is tossed in storms and cyclones, heaved up in +billows, twisted in waterspouts, dashed to mist upon rocks, beaten by +millions of tails, and breathed by millions of gills, whence at last, +melted into vapour by the sun, it is lifted up pure into the air, and +borne by the servant winds back to the mountaintops and the snow, the +solid ice, and the molten stream. +</P> + +<P> +Well, when the heart of the earth has thus come rushing up among her +children, bringing with it gifts of all that she possesses, then +straightway into it rush her children to see what they can find there. +With pickaxe and spade and crowbar, with boring chisel and blasting +powder, they force their way back: is it to search for what toys they +may have left in their long-forgotten nurseries? Hence the mountains +that lift their heads into the clear air, and are dotted over with the +dwellings of men, are tunnelled and bored in the darkness of their +bosoms by the dwellers in the houses which they hold up to the sun and +air. +</P> + +<P> +Curdie and his father were of these: their business was to bring to +light hidden things; they sought silver in the rock and found it, and +carried it out. Of the many other precious things in their mountain +they knew little or nothing. Silver ore was what they were sent to +find, and in darkness and danger they found it. But oh, how sweet was +the air on the mountain face when they came out at sunset to go home to +wife and mother! They did breathe deep then! +</P> + +<P> +The mines belonged to the king of the country, and the miners were his +servants, working under his overseers and officers. He was a real +king—that is, one who ruled for the good of his people and not to +please himself, and he wanted the silver not to buy rich things for +himself, but to help him to govern the country, and pay the ones that +defended it from certain troublesome neighbours, and the judges whom he +set to portion out righteousness among the people, that so they might +learn it themselves, and come to do without judges at all. Nothing +that could be got from the heart of the earth could have been put to +better purposes than the silver the king's miners got for him. There +were people in the country who, when it came into their hands, degraded +it by locking it up in a chest, and then it grew diseased and was +called mammon, and bred all sorts of quarrels; but when first it left +the king's hands it never made any but friends, and the air of the +world kept it clean. +</P> + +<P> +About a year before this story began, a series of very remarkable +events had just ended. I will narrate as much of them as will serve to +show the tops of the roots of my tree. +</P> + +<P> +Upon the mountain, on one of its many claws, stood a grand old house, +half farmhouse, half castle, belonging to the king; and there his only +child, the Princess Irene, had been brought up till she was nearly nine +years old, and would doubtless have continued much longer, but for the +strange events to which I have referred. +</P> + +<P> +At that time the hollow places of the mountain were inhabited by +creatures called goblins, who for various reasons and in various ways +made themselves troublesome to all, but to the little princess +dangerous. Mainly by the watchful devotion and energy of Curdie, +however, their designs had been utterly defeated, and made to recoil +upon themselves to their own destruction, so that now there were very +few of them left alive, and the miners did not believe there was a +single goblin remaining in the whole inside of the mountain. +</P> + +<P> +The king had been so pleased with the boy—then approaching thirteen +years of age—that when he carried away his daughter he asked him to +accompany them; but he was still better pleased with him when he found +that he preferred staying with his father and mother. He was a right +good king and knew that the love of a boy who would not leave his +father and mother to be made a great man was worth ten thousand offers +to die for his sake, and would prove so when the right time came. As +for his father and mother, they would have given him up without a +grumble, for they were just as good as the king, and he and they +understood each other perfectly; but in this matter, not seeing that he +could do anything for the king which one of his numerous attendants +could not do as well, Curdie felt that it was for him to decide. So +the king took a kind farewell of them all and rode away, with his +daughter on his horse before him. +</P> + +<P> +A gloom fell upon the mountain and the miners when she was gone, and +Curdie did not whistle for a whole week. As for his verses, there was +no occasion to make any now. He had made them only to drive away the +goblins, and they were all gone—a good riddance—only the princess was +gone too! He would rather have had things as they were, except for the +princess's sake. But whoever is diligent will soon be cheerful, and +though the miners missed the household of the castle, they yet managed +to get on without them. Peter and his wife, however, were troubled with +the fancy that they had stood in the way of their boy's good fortune. +It would have been such a fine thing for him and them, too, they +thought, if he had ridden with the good king's train. How beautiful he +looked, they said, when he rode the king's own horse through the river +that the goblins had sent out of the hill! He might soon have been a +captain, they did believe! The good, kind people did not reflect that +the road to the next duty is the only straight one, or that, for their +fancied good, we should never wish our children or friends to do what +we would not do ourselves if we were in their position. We must accept +righteous sacrifices as well as make them. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 2 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The White Pigeon +</H3> + +<P> +When in the winter they had had their supper and sat about the fire, or +when in the summer they lay on the border of the rock-margined stream +that ran through their little meadow close by the door of their +cottage, issuing from the far-up whiteness often folded in clouds, +Curdie's mother would not seldom lead the conversation to one peculiar +personage said and believed to have been much concerned in the late +issue of events. +</P> + +<P> +That personage was the great-great-grandmother of the princess, of whom +the princess had often talked, but whom neither Curdie nor his mother +had ever seen. Curdie could indeed remember, although already it +looked more like a dream than he could account for if it had really +taken place, how the princess had once led him up many stairs to what +she called a beautiful room in the top of the tower, where she went +through all the—what should he call it?—the behaviour of presenting +him to her grandmother, talking now to her and now to him, while all +the time he saw nothing but a bare garret, a heap of musty straw, a +sunbeam, and a withered apple. Lady, he would have declared before the +king himself, young or old, there was none, except the princess +herself, who was certainly vexed that he could not see what she at +least believed she saw. +</P> + +<P> +As for his mother, she had once seen, long before Curdie was born, a +certain mysterious light of the same description as one Irene spoke of, +calling it her grandmother's moon; and Curdie himself had seen this +same light, shining from above the castle, just as the king and +princess were taking their leave. Since that time neither had seen or +heard anything that could be supposed connected with her. Strangely +enough, however, nobody had seen her go away. If she was such an old +lady, she could hardly be supposed to have set out alone and on foot +when all the house was asleep. Still, away she must have gone, for, of +course, if she was so powerful, she would always be about the princess +to take care of her. +</P> + +<P> +But as Curdie grew older, he doubted more and more whether Irene had +not been talking of some dream she had taken for reality: he had heard +it said that children could not always distinguish betwixt dreams and +actual events. At the same time there was his mother's testimony: what +was he to do with that? His mother, through whom he had learned +everything, could hardly be imagined by her own dutiful son to have +mistaken a dream for a fact of the waking world. +</P> + +<P> +So he rather shrank from thinking about it, and the less he thought +about it, the less he was inclined to believe it when he did think +about it, and therefore, of course, the less inclined to talk about it +to his father and mother; for although his father was one of those men +who for one word they say think twenty thoughts, Curdie was well +assured that he would rather doubt his own eyes than his wife's +testimony. +</P> + +<P> +There were no others to whom he could have talked about it. The miners +were a mingled company—some good, some not so good, some rather +bad—none of them so bad or so good as they might have been; Curdie +liked most of them, and was a favourite with all; but they knew very +little about the upper world, and what might or might not take place +there. They knew silver from copper ore; they understood the +underground ways of things, and they could look very wise with their +lanterns in their hands searching after this or that sign of ore, or +for some mark to guide their way in the hollows of the earth; but as to +great-great-grandmothers, they would have mocked Curdie all the rest of +his life for the absurdity of not being absolutely certain that the +solemn belief of his father and mother was nothing but ridiculous +nonsense. Why, to them the very word 'great-great-grandmother' would +have been a week's laughter! I am not sure that they were able quite +to believe there were such persons as great-great-grandmothers; they +had never seen one. They were not companions to give the best of help +toward progress, and as Curdie grew, he grew at this time faster in +body than in mind—with the usual consequence, that he was getting +rather stupid—one of the chief signs of which was that he believed +less and less in things he had never seen. At the same time I do not +think he was ever so stupid as to imagine that this was a sign of +superior faculty and strength of mind. Still, he was becoming more and +more a miner, and less and less a man of the upper world where the wind +blew. On his way to and from the mine he took less and less notice of +bees and butterflies, moths and dragonflies, the flowers and the brooks +and the clouds. He was gradually changing into a commonplace man. +</P> + +<P> +There is this difference between the growth of some human beings and +that of others: in the one case it is a continuous dying, in the other +a continuous resurrection. One of the latter sort comes at length to +know at once whether a thing is true the moment it comes before him; +one of the former class grows more and more afraid of being taken in, +so afraid of it that he takes himself in altogether, and comes at +length to believe in nothing but his dinner: to be sure of a thing with +him is to have it between his teeth. +</P> + +<P> +Curdie was not in a very good way, then, at that time. His father and +mother had, it is true, no fault to find with him and yet—and +yet—neither of them was ready to sing when the thought of him came up. +There must be something wrong when a mother catches herself sighing +over the time when her boy was in petticoats, or a father looks sad +when he thinks how he used to carry him on his shoulder. The boy +should enclose and keep, as his life, the old child at the heart of +him, and never let it go. He must still, to be a right man, be his +mother's darling, and more, his father's pride, and more. The child is +not meant to die, but to be forever fresh born. +</P> + +<P> +Curdie had made himself a bow and some arrows, and was teaching himself +to shoot with them. One evening in the early summer, as he was walking +home from the mine with them in his hand, a light flashed across his +eyes. He looked, and there was a snow-white pigeon settling on a rock +in front of him, in the red light of the level sun. There it fell at +once to work with one of its wings, in which a feather or two had got +some sprays twisted, causing a certain roughness unpleasant to the +fastidious creature of the air. +</P> + +<P> +It was indeed a lovely being, and Curdie thought how happy it must be +flitting through the air with a flash—a live bolt of light. For a +moment he became so one with the bird that he seemed to feel both its +bill and its feathers, as the one adjusted the other to fly again, and +his heart swelled with the pleasure of its involuntary sympathy. +Another moment and it would have been aloft in the waves of rosy +light—it was just bending its little legs to spring: that moment it +fell on the path broken-winged and bleeding from Curdie's cruel arrow. +</P> + +<P> +With a gush of pride at his skill, and pleasure at his success, he ran +to pick up his prey. I must say for him he picked it up +gently—perhaps it was the beginning of his repentance. But when he +had the white thing in his hands its whiteness stained with another red +than that of the sunset flood in which it had been revelling—ah God! +who knows the joy of a bird, the ecstasy of a creature that has neither +storehouse nor barn!—when he held it, I say, in his victorious hands, +the winged thing looked up in his face—and with such eyes!—asking +what was the matter, and where the red sun had gone, and the clouds, +and the wind of its flight. Then they closed, but to open again +presently, with the same questions in them. +</P> + +<P> +And as they closed and opened, their look was fixed on his. It did not +once flutter or try to get away; it only throbbed and bled and looked +at him. Curdie's heart began to grow very large in his bosom. What +could it mean? It was nothing but a pigeon, and why should he not kill +a pigeon? But the fact was that not till this very moment had he ever +known what a pigeon was. A good many discoveries of a similar kind +have to be made by most of us. Once more it opened its eyes—then +closed them again, and its throbbing ceased. Curdie gave a sob: its +last look reminded him of the princess—he did not know why. He +remembered how hard he had laboured to set her beyond danger, and yet +what dangers she had had to encounter for his sake: they had been +saviours to each other—and what had he done now? He had stopped +saving, and had begun killing! What had he been sent into the world +for? Surely not to be a death to its joy and loveliness. He had done +the thing that was contrary to gladness; he was a destroyer! He was +not the Curdie he had been meant to be! +</P> + +<P> +Then the underground waters gushed from the boy's heart. And with the +tears came the remembrance that a white pigeon, just before the +princess went away with her father, came from somewhere—yes, from the +grandmother's lamp, and flew round the king and Irene and himself, and +then flew away: this might be that very pigeon! Horrible to think! And +if it wasn't, yet it was a white pigeon, the same as this. And if she +kept a great Many pigeons—and white ones, as Irene had told him, then +whose pigeon could he have killed but the grand old princess's? +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly everything round about him seemed against him. The red sunset +stung him; the rocks frowned at him; the sweet wind that had been +laving his face as he walked up the hill dropped—as if he wasn't fit +to be kissed any more. Was the whole world going to cast him out? +Would he have to stand there forever, not knowing what to do, with the +dead pigeon in his hand? Things looked bad indeed. Was the whole +world going to make a work about a pigeon—a white pigeon? The sun +went down. Great clouds gathered over the west, and shortened the +twilight. The wind gave a howl, and then lay down again. The clouds +gathered thicker. Then came a rumbling. He thought it was thunder. +It was a rock that fell inside the mountain. A goat ran past him down +the hill, followed by a dog sent to fetch him home. He thought they +were goblin creatures, and trembled. He used to despise them. And +still he held the dead pigeon tenderly in his hand. +</P> + +<P> +It grew darker and darker. An evil something began to move in his +heart. 'What a fool I am!' he said to himself. Then he grew angry, +and was just going to throw the bird from him and whistle, when a +brightness shone all round him. He lifted his eyes, and saw a great +globe of light—like silver at the hottest heat: he had once seen +silver run from the furnace. It shone from somewhere above the roofs +of the castle: it must be the great old princess's moon! How could she +be there? Of course she was not there! He had asked the whole +household, and nobody knew anything about her or her globe either. It +couldn't be! And yet what did that signify, when there was the white +globe shining, and here was the dead white bird in his hand? That +moment the pigeon gave a little flutter. 'It's not dead!' cried +Curdie, almost with a shriek. The same instant he was running full +speed toward the castle, never letting his heels down, lest he should +shake the poor, wounded bird. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 3 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Mistress of the Silver Moon +</H3> + +<P> +When Curdie reached the castle, and ran into the little garden in front +of it, there stood the door wide open. This was as he had hoped, for +what could he have said if he had had to knock at it? Those whose +business it is to open doors, so often mistake and shut them! But the +woman now in charge often puzzled herself greatly to account for the +strange fact that however often she shut the door, which, like the +rest, she took a great deal of unnecessary trouble to do, she was +certain, the next time she went to it, to find it open. I speak now of +the great front door, of course: the back door she as persistently kept +wide: if people could only go in by that, she said, she would then know +what sort they were, and what they wanted. But she would neither have +known what sort Curdie was, nor what he wanted, and would assuredly +have denied him admittance, for she knew nothing of who was in the +tower. So the front door was left open for him, and in he walked. +</P> + +<P> +But where to go next he could not tell. It was not quite dark: a dull, +shineless twilight filled the place. All he knew was that he must go +up, and that proved enough for the present, for there he saw the great +staircase rising before him. When he reached the top of it, he knew +there must be more stairs yet, for he could not be near the top of the +tower. Indeed by the situation of the stairs, he must be a good way +from the tower itself. But those who work well in the depths more +easily understand the heights, for indeed in their true nature they are +one and the same; miners are in mountains; and Curdie, from knowing the +ways of the king's mines, and being able to calculate his whereabouts +in them, was now able to find his way about the king's house. He knew +its outside perfectly, and now his business was to get his notion of +the inside right with the outside. +</P> + +<P> +So he shut his eyes and made a picture of the outside of it in his +mind. Then he came in at the door of the picture, and yet kept the +picture before him all the time—for you can do that kind of thing in +your mind—and took every turn of the stair over again, always watching +to remember, every time he turned his face, how the tower lay, and then +when he came to himself at the top where he stood, he knew exactly +where it was, and walked at once in the right direction. +</P> + +<P> +On his way, however, he came to another stair, and up that he went, of +course, watching still at every turn how the tower must lie. At the +top of this stair was yet another—they were the stairs up which the +princess ran when first, without knowing it, she was on her way to find +her great-great-grandmother. At the top of the second stair he could +go no farther, and must therefore set out again to find the tower, +which, as it rose far above the rest of the house, must have the last +of its stairs inside itself. +</P> + +<P> +Having watched every turn to the very last, he still knew quite well in +what direction he must go to find it, so he left the stair and went +down a passage that led, if not exactly toward it, yet nearer it. This +passage was rather dark, for it was very long, with only one window at +the end, and although there were doors on both sides of it, they were +all shut. At the distant window glimmered the chill east, with a few +feeble stars in it, and its like was dreary and old, growing brown, and +looking as if it were thinking about the day that was just gone. +Presently he turned into another passage, which also had a window at +the end of it; and in at that window shone all that was left of the +sunset, just a few ashes, with here and there a little touch of warmth: +it was nearly as sad as the east, only there was one difference—it was +very plainly thinking of tomorrow. +</P> + +<P> +But at present Curdie had nothing to do with today or tomorrow; his +business was with the bird, and the tower where dwelt the grand old +princess to whom it belonged. So he kept on his way, still eastward, +and came to yet another passage, which brought him to a door. He was +afraid to open it without first knocking. He knocked, but heard no +answer. He was answered nevertheless; for the door gently opened, and +there was a narrow stair—and so steep that, big lad as he was, he, +too, like the Princess Irene before him, found his hands needful for +the climbing. And it was a long climb, but he reached the top at +last—a little landing, with a door in front and one on each side. +Which should he knock at? +</P> + +<P> +As he hesitated, he heard the noise of a spinning wheel. He knew it at +once, because his mother's spinning wheel had been his governess long +ago, and still taught him things. It was the spinning wheel that first +taught him to make verses, and to sing, and to think whether all was +right inside him; or at least it had helped him in all these things. +Hence it was no wonder he should know a spinning wheel when he heard it +sing—even although as the bird of paradise to other birds was the song +of that wheel to the song of his mother's. +</P> + +<P> +He stood listening, so entranced that he forgot to knock, and the wheel +went on and on, spinning in his brain songs and tales and rhymes, till +he was almost asleep as well as dreaming, for sleep does not always +come first. But suddenly came the thought of the poor bird, which had +been lying motionless in his hand all the time, and that woke him up, +and at once he knocked. +</P> + +<P> +'Come in, Curdie,' said a voice. +</P> + +<P> +Curdie shook. It was getting rather awful. The heart that had never +much heeded an army of goblins trembled at the soft word of invitation. +But then there was the red-spotted white thing in his hand! He dared +not hesitate, though. Gently he opened the door through which the +sound came, and what did he see? Nothing at first—except indeed a +great sloping shaft of moonlight that came in at a high window, and +rested on the floor. He stood and stared at it, forgetting to shut the +door. +</P> + +<P> +'Why don't you come in, Curdie?' said the voice. 'Did you never see +moonlight before?' +</P> + +<P> +'Never without a moon,' answered Curdie, in a trembling tone, but +gathering courage. +</P> + +<P> +'Certainly not,' returned the voice, which was thin and quavering: 'I +never saw moonlight without a moon.' +</P> + +<P> +'But there's no moon outside,' said Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'Ah! but you're inside now,' said the voice. +</P> + +<P> +The answer did not satisfy Curdie; but the voice went on. +</P> + +<P> +'There are more moons than you know of, Curdie. Where there is one sun +there are many moons—and of many sorts. Come in and look out of my +window, and you will soon satisfy yourself that there is a moon looking +in at it.' +</P> + +<P> +The gentleness of the voice made Curdie remember his manners. He shut +the door, and drew a step or two nearer to the moonlight. +</P> + +<P> +All the time the sound of the spinning had been going on and on, and +Curdie now caught sight of the wheel. Oh, it was such a thin, delicate +thing—reminding him of a spider's web in a hedge. It stood in the +middle of the moonlight, and it seemed as if the moonlight had nearly +melted it away. A step nearer, he saw, with a start, two little hands +at work with it. And then at last, in the shadow on the other side of +the moonlight which came like silver between, he saw the form to which +the hands belonged: a small withered creature, so old that no age would +have seemed too great to write under her picture, seated on a stool +beyond the spinning wheel, which looked very large beside her, but, as +I said, very thin, like a long-legged spider holding up its own web, +which was the round wheel itself She sat crumpled together, a filmy +thing that it seemed a puff would blow away, more like the body of a +fly the big spider had sucked empty and left hanging in his web, than +anything else I can think of. +</P> + +<P> +When Curdie saw her, he stood still again, a good deal in wonder, a +very little in reverence, a little in doubt, and, I must add, a little +in amusement at the odd look of the old marvel. Her grey hair mixed +with the moonlight so that he could not tell where the one began and +the other ended. Her crooked back bent forward over her chest, her +shoulders nearly swallowed up her head between them, and her two little +hands were just like the grey claws of a hen, scratching at the thread, +which to Curdie was of course invisible across the moonlight. Indeed +Curdie laughed within himself, just a little, at the sight; and when he +thought of how the princess used to talk about her huge, great, old +grandmother, he laughed more. But that moment the little lady leaned +forward into the moonlight, and Curdie caught a glimpse of her eyes, +and all the laugh went out of him. +</P> + +<P> +'What do you come here for, Curdie?' she said, as gently as before. +</P> + +<P> +Then Curdie remembered that he stood there as a culprit, and worst of +all, as one who had his confession yet to make. There was no time to +hesitate over it. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, ma'am! See here,' he said, and advanced a step or two, holding +out the pigeon. +</P> + +<P> +'What have you got there?' she asked. +</P> + +<P> +Again Curdie advanced a few steps, and held out his hand with the +pigeon, that she might see what it was, into the moonlight. The moment +the rays fell upon it the pigeon gave a faint flutter. The old lady +put out her old hands and took it, and held it to her bosom, and rocked +it, murmuring over it as if it were a sick baby. +</P> + +<P> +When Curdie saw how distressed she was he grew sorrier still, and said: +</P> + +<P> +'I didn't mean to do any harm, ma'am. I didn't think of its being +yours.' +</P> + +<P> +'Ah, Curdie! If it weren't mine, what would become of it now?' she +returned. 'You say you didn't mean any harm: did you mean any good, +Curdie?' +</P> + +<P> +'No,' answered Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'Remember, then, that whoever does not mean good is always in danger of +harm. But I try to give everybody fair play; and those that are in the +wrong are in far more need of it always than those who are in the +right: they can afford to do without it. Therefore I say for you that +when you shot that arrow you did not know what a pigeon is. Now that +you do know, you are sorry. It is very dangerous to do things you +don't know about.' +</P> + +<P> +'But, please, ma'am—I don't mean to be rude or to contradict you,' +said Curdie, 'but if a body was never to do anything but what he knew +to be good, he would have to live half his time doing nothing.' +</P> + +<P> +'There you are much mistaken,' said the old quavering voice. 'How +little you must have thought! Why, you don't seem even to know the +good of the things you are constantly doing. Now don't mistake me. I +don't mean you are good for doing them. It is a good thing to eat your +breakfast, but you don't fancy it's very good of you to do it. The +thing is good, not you.' +</P> + +<P> +Curdie laughed. +</P> + +<P> +'There are a great many more good things than bad things to do. Now +tell me what bad thing you have done today besides this sore hurt to my +little white friend.' +</P> + +<P> +While she talked Curdie had sunk into a sort of reverie, in which he +hardly knew whether it was the old lady or his own heart that spoke. +And when she asked him that question, he was at first much inclined to +consider himself a very good fellow on the whole. 'I really don't +think I did anything else that was very bad all day,' he said to +himself. But at the same time he could not honestly feel that he was +worth standing up for. All at once a light seemed to break in upon his +mind, and he woke up and there was the withered little atomy of the old +lady on the other side of the moonlight, and there was the spinning +wheel singing on and on in the middle of it! +</P> + +<P> +'I know now, ma'am; I understand now,' he said. 'Thank you, ma'am, for +spinning it into me with your wheel. I see now that I have been doing +wrong the whole day, and such a many days besides! Indeed, I don't know +when I ever did right, and yet it seems as if I had done right some +time and had forgotten how. When I killed your bird I did not know I +was doing wrong, just because I was always doing wrong, and the wrong +had soaked all through me.' +</P> + +<P> +'What wrong were you doing all day, Curdie? It is better to come to +the point, you know,' said the old lady, and her voice was gentler even +than before. +</P> + +<P> +'I was doing the wrong of never wanting or trying to be better. And now +I see that I have been letting things go as they would for a long time. +Whatever came into my head I did, and whatever didn't come into my head +I didn't do. I never sent anything away, and never looked out for +anything to come. I haven't been attending to my mother—or my father +either. And now I think of it, I know I have often seen them looking +troubled, and I have never asked them what was the matter. And now I +see, too, that I did not ask because I suspected it had something to do +with me and my behaviour, and didn't want to hear the truth. And I +know I have been grumbling at my work, and doing a hundred other things +that are wrong.' +</P> + +<P> +'You have got it, Curdie,' said the old lady, in a voice that sounded +almost as if she had been crying. 'When people don't care to be better +they must be doing everything wrong. I am so glad you shot my bird!' +</P> + +<P> +'Ma'am!' exclaimed Curdie. 'How can you be?' +</P> + +<P> +'Because it has brought you to see what sort you were when you did it, +and what sort you will grow to be again, only worse, if you don't mind. +Now that you are sorry, my poor bird will be better. Look up, my dovey.' +</P> + +<P> +The pigeon gave a flutter, and spread out one of its red-spotted wings +across the old woman's bosom. +</P> + +<P> +'I will mend the little angel,' she said, 'and in a week or two it will +be flying again. So you may ease your heart about the pigeon.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, thank you! Thank you!' cried Curdie. 'I don't know how to thank +you.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then I will tell you. There is only one way I care for. Do better, +and grow better, and be better. And never kill anything without a good +reason for it.' +</P> + +<P> +'Ma'am, I will go and fetch my bow and arrows, and you shall burn them +yourself.' +</P> + +<P> +'I have no fire that would burn your bow and arrows, Curdie.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then I promise you to burn them all under my mother's porridge pot +tomorrow morning.' +</P> + +<P> +'No, no, Curdie. Keep them, and practice with them every day, and grow +a good shot. There are plenty of bad things that want killing, and a +day will come when they will prove useful. But I must see first +whether you will do as I tell you.' +</P> + +<P> +'That I will!' said Curdie. 'What is it, ma'am?' +</P> + +<P> +'Only something not to do,' answered the old lady; 'if you should hear +anyone speak about me, never to laugh or make fun of me.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, ma'am!' exclaimed Curdie, shocked that she should think such a +request needful. +</P> + +<P> +'Stop, stop,' she went on. 'People hereabout sometimes tell very odd +and in fact ridiculous stories of an old woman who watches what is +going on, and occasionally interferes. They mean me, though what they +say is often great nonsense. Now what I want of you is not to laugh, +or side with them in any way; because they will take that to mean that +you don't believe there is any such person a bit more than they do. +Now that would not be the case—would it, Curdie?' +</P> + +<P> +'No, indeed, ma'am. I've seen you.' +</P> + +<P> +The old woman smiled very oddly. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, you've seen me,' she said. 'But mind,' she continued, 'I don't +want you to say anything—only to hold your tongue, and not seem to +side with them.' +</P> + +<P> +'That will be easy,'said Curdie,'now that I've seen you with my very +own eyes, ma'am.' +</P> + +<P> +'Not so easy as you think, perhaps,' said the old lady, with another +curious smile. 'I want to be your friend,' she added after a little +pause, 'but I don't quite know yet whether you will let me.' +</P> + +<P> +'Indeed I will, ma'am,' said Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'That is for me to find out,' she rejoined, with yet another strange +smile. 'In the meantime all I can say is, come to me again when you +find yourself in any trouble, and I will see what I can do for +you—only the canning depends on yourself. I am greatly pleased with +you for bringing me my pigeon, doing your best to set right what you +had set wrong.' +</P> + +<P> +As she spoke she held out her hand to him, and when he took it she made +use of his to help herself up from her stool, and—when or how it came +about, Curdie could not tell—the same instant she stood before him a +tall, strong woman—plainly very old, but as grand as she was old, and +only rather severe-looking. Every trace of the decrepitude and +witheredness she showed as she hovered like a film about her wheel, had +vanished. Her hair was very white, but it hung about her head in great +plenty, and shone like silver in the moonlight. Straight as a pillar +she stood before the astonished boy, and the wounded bird had now +spread out both its wings across her bosom, like some great mystical +ornament of frosted silver. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, now I can never forget you!' cried Curdie. 'I see now what you +really are!' +</P> + +<P> +'Did I not tell you the truth when I sat at my wheel?' said the old +lady. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, ma'am,' answered Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'I can do no more than tell you the truth now,' she rejoined. 'It is a +bad thing indeed to forget one who has told us the truth. Now go.' +</P> + +<P> +Curdie obeyed, and took a few steps toward the door. 'Please, +ma'am—what am I to call you?' he was going to say; but when he turned +to speak, he saw nobody. Whether she was there or not he could not +tell, however, for the moonlight had vanished, and the room was utterly +dark. A great fear, such as he had never before known, came upon him, +and almost overwhelmed him. He groped his way to the door, and crawled +down the stair—in doubt and anxiety as to how he should find his way +out of the house in the dark. And the stair seemed ever so much longer +than when he came up. Nor was that any wonder, for down and down he +went, until at length his foot struck a door, and when he rose and +opened it, he found himself under the starry, moonless sky at the foot +of the tower. +</P> + +<P> +He soon discovered the way out of the garden, with which he had some +acquaintance already, and in a few minutes was climbing the mountain +with a solemn and cheerful heart. It was rather dark, but he knew the +way well. As he passed the rock from which the poor pigeon fell +wounded with his arrow, a great joy filled his heart at the thought +that he was delivered from the blood of the little bird, and he ran the +next hundred yards at full speed up the hill. Some dark shadows passed +him: he did not even care to think what they were, but let them run. +When he reached home, he found his father and mother waiting supper for +him. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 4 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Curdie's Father and Mother +</H3> + +<P> +The eyes of the fathers and mothers are quick to read their children's +looks, and when Curdie entered the cottage, his parents saw at once +that something unusual had taken place. When he said to his mother, 'I +beg your pardon for being so late,' there was something in the tone +beyond the politeness that went to her heart, for it seemed to come +from the place where all lovely things were born before they began to +grow in this world. When he set his father's chair to the table, an +attention he had not shown him for a long time, Peter thanked him with +more gratitude than the boy had ever yet felt in all his life. It was +a small thing to do for the man who had been serving him since ever he +was born, but I suspect there is nothing a man can be so grateful for +as that to which he has the most right. +</P> + +<P> +There was a change upon Curdie, and father and mother felt there must +be something to account for it, and therefore were pretty sure he had +something to tell them. For when a child's heart is all right, it is +not likely he will want to keep anything from his parents. But the +story of the evening was too solemn for Curdie to come out with all at +once. He must wait until they had had their porridge, and the affairs +of this world were over for the day. +</P> + +<P> +But when they were seated on the grassy bank of the brook that went so +sweetly blundering over the great stones of its rocky channel, for the +whole meadow lay on the top of a huge rock, then he felt that the right +hour had come for sharing with them the wonderful things that had come +to him. It was perhaps the loveliest of all hours in the year. The +summer was young and soft, and this was the warmest evening they had +yet had—dusky, dark even below, while above, the stars were bright and +large and sharp in the blackest blue sky. The night came close around +them, clasping them in one universal arm of love, and although it +neither spoke nor smiled, seemed all eye and ear, seemed to see and +hear and know everything they said and did. It is a way the night has +sometimes, and there is a reason for it. The only sound was that of +the brook, for there was no wind, and no trees for it to make its music +upon if there had been, for the cottage was high up on the mountain, on +a great shoulder of stone where trees would not grow. +</P> + +<P> +There, to the accompaniment of the water, as it hurried down to the +valley and the sea, talking busily of a thousand true things which it +could not understand, Curdie told his tale, outside and in, to his +father and mother. What a world had slipped in between the mouth of +the mine and his mother's cottage! Neither of them said a word until +he had ended. +</P> + +<P> +'Now what am I to make of it, Mother? it's so strange!' he said, and +stopped. +</P> + +<P> +'It's easy enough to see what Curdie has got to make of it, isn't it, +Peter?' said the good woman, turning her face toward all she could see +of her husband's. +</P> + +<P> +'It seems so to me,' answered Peter, with a smile which only the night +saw, but his wife felt in the tone of his words. They were the +happiest couple in that country, because they always understood each +other, and that was because they always meant the same thing, and that +was because they always loved what was fair and true and right better, +not than anything else, but than everything else put together. +</P> + +<P> +'Then will you tell Curdie?' said she. +</P> + +<P> +'You can talk best, Joan,' said he. 'You tell him, and I will +listen—and learn how to say what I think,' he added. +</P> + +<P> +'I,' said Curdie, 'don't know what to think.' +</P> + +<P> +'It does not matter so much,' said his mother. 'If only you know what +to make of a thing, you'll know soon enough what to think of it. Now I +needn't tell you, surely, Curdie, what you've got to do with this?' +</P> + +<P> +'I suppose you mean, Mother,' answered Curdie, 'that I must do as the +old lady told me?' +</P> + +<P> +'That is what I mean: what else could it be? Am I not right, Peter?' +</P> + +<P> +'Quite right, Joan,' answered Peter, 'so far as my judgement goes. It +is a very strange story, but you see the question is not about +believing it, for Curdie knows what came to him.' +</P> + +<P> +'And you remember, Curdie,' said his mother, 'that when the princess +took you up that tower once before, and there talked to her +great-great-grandmother, you came home quite angry with her, and said +there was nothing in the place but an old tub, a heap of straw—oh, I +remember your inventory quite well!—an old tub, a heap of straw, a +withered apple, and a sunbeam. According to your eyes, that was all +there was in the great, old, musty garret. But now you have had a +glimpse of the old princess herself!' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, Mother, I did see her—or if I didn't—' said Curdie very +thoughtfully—then began again. 'The hardest thing to believe, though +I saw it with my own eyes, was when the thin, filmy creature that +seemed almost to float about in the moonlight like a bit of the silver +paper they put over pictures, or like a handkerchief made of spider +threads, took my hand, and rose up. She was taller and stronger than +you, Mother, ever so much!—at least, she looked so.' +</P> + +<P> +'And most certainly was so, Curdie, if she looked so,' said Mrs +Peterson. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, I confess,' returned her son, 'that one thing, if there were no +other, would make me doubt whether I was not dreaming, after all, wide +awake though I fancied myself to be.' +</P> + +<P> +'Of course,' answered his mother, 'it is not for me to say whether you +were dreaming or not if you are doubtful of it yourself; but it doesn't +make me think I am dreaming when in the summer I hold in my hand the +bunch of sweet peas that make my heart glad with their colour and +scent, and remember the dry, withered-looking little thing I dibbled +into the hole in the same spot in the spring. I only think how +wonderful and lovely it all is. It seems just as full of reason as it +is of wonder. How it is done I can't tell, only there it is! And +there is this in it, too, Curdie—of which you would not be so ready to +think—that when you come home to your father and mother, and they find +you behaving more like a dear, good son than you have behaved for a +long time, they at least are not likely to think you were only +dreaming.' +</P> + +<P> +'Still,' said Curdie, looking a little ashamed, 'I might have dreamed +my duty.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then dream often, my son; for there must then be more truth in your +dreams than in your waking thoughts. But however any of these things +may be, this one point remains certain: there can be no harm in doing +as she told you. And, indeed, until you are sure there is no such +person, you are bound to do it, for you promised.' +</P> + +<P> +'It seems to me,' said his father, 'that if a lady comes to you in a +dream, Curdie, and tells you not to talk about her when you wake, the +least you can do is to hold your tongue.' +</P> + +<P> +'True, Father! Yes, Mother, I'll do it,' said Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +Then they went to bed, and sleep, which is the night of the soul, next +took them in its arms and made them well. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 5 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Miners +</H3> + +<P> +It much increased Curdie's feeling of the strangeness of the whole +affair, that, the next morning, when they were at work in the mine, the +party of which he and his father were two, just as if they had known +what had happened to him the night before, began talking about all +manner of wonderful tales that were abroad in the country, chiefly, of +course, those connected with the mines, and the mountains in which they +lay. Their wives and mothers and grandmothers were their chief +authorities. For when they sat by their firesides they heard their +wives telling their children the selfsame tales, with little +differences, and here and there one they had not heard before, which +they had heard their mothers and grandmothers tell in one or other of +the same cottages. +</P> + +<P> +At length they came to speak of a certain strange being they called Old +Mother Wotherwop. Some said their wives had seen her. It appeared as +they talked that not one had seen her more than once. Some of their +mothers and grandmothers, however, had seen her also, and they all had +told them tales about her when they were children. They said she could +take any shape she liked, but that in reality she was a withered old +woman, so old and so withered that she was as thin as a sieve with a +lamp behind it; that she was never seen except at night, and when +something terrible had taken place, or was going to take place—such as +the falling in of the roof of a mine, or the breaking out of water in +it. +</P> + +<P> +She had more than once been seen—it was always at night—beside some +well, sitting on the brink of it, and leaning over and stirring it with +her forefinger, which was six times as long as any of the rest. And +whoever for months after drank of that well was sure to be ill. To +this, one of them, however, added that he remembered his mother saying +that whoever in bad health drank of the well was sure to get better. +But the majority agreed that the former was the right version of the +story—for was she not a witch, an old hating witch, whose delight was +to do mischief? One said he had heard that she took the shape of a +young woman sometimes, as beautiful as an angel, and then was most +dangerous of all, for she struck every man who looked upon her +stone-blind. +</P> + +<P> +Peter ventured the question whether she might not as likely be an angel +that took the form of an old woman, as an old woman that took the form +of an angel. But nobody except Curdie, who was holding his peace with +all his might, saw any sense in the question. They said an old woman +might be very glad to make herself look like a young one, but who ever +heard of a young and beautiful one making herself look old and ugly? +</P> + +<P> +Peter asked why they were so much more ready to believe the bad that +was said of her than the good. They answered, because she was bad. He +asked why they believed her to be bad, and they answered, because she +did bad things. When he asked how they knew that, they said, because +she was a bad creature. Even if they didn't know it, they said, a +woman like that was so much more likely to be bad than good. Why did +she go about at night? Why did she appear only now and then, and on +such occasions? One went on to tell how one night when his grandfather +had been having a jolly time of it with his friends in the market town, +she had served him so upon his way home that the poor man never drank a +drop of anything stronger than water after it to the day of his death. +She dragged him into a bog, and tumbled him up and down in it till he +was nearly dead. +</P> + +<P> +'I suppose that was her way of teaching him what a good thing water +was,' said Peter; but the man, who liked strong drink, did not see the +joke. +</P> + +<P> +'They do say,' said another, 'that she has lived in the old house over +there ever since the little princess left it. They say too that the +housekeeper knows all about it, and is hand and glove with the old +witch. I don't doubt they have many a nice airing together on +broomsticks. But I don't doubt either it's all nonsense, and there's +no such person at all.' +</P> + +<P> +'When our cow died,' said another, 'she was seen going round and round +the cowhouse the same night. To be sure she left a fine calf behind +her—I mean the cow did, not the witch. I wonder she didn't kill that, +too, for she'll be a far finer cow than ever her mother was.' +</P> + +<P> +'My old woman came upon her one night, not long before the water broke +out in the mine, sitting on a stone on the hillside with a whole +congregation of cobs about her. When they saw my wife they all +scampered off as fast as they could run, and where the witch was +sitting there was nothing to be seen but a withered bracken bush. I +made no doubt myself she was putting them up to it.' +</P> + +<P> +And so they went on with one foolish tale after another, while Peter +put in a word now and then, and Curdie diligently held his peace. But +his silence at last drew attention upon it, and one of them said: +</P> + +<P> +'Come, young Curdie, what are you thinking of?' +</P> + +<P> +'How do you know I'm thinking of anything?' asked Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'Because you're not saying anything.' +</P> + +<P> +'Does it follow then that, as you are saying so much, you're not +thinking at all?' said Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'I know what he's thinking,' said one who had not yet spoken; 'he's +thinking what a set of fools you are to talk such rubbish; as if ever +there was or could be such an old woman as you say! I'm sure Curdie +knows better than all that comes to.' +</P> + +<P> +'I think,' said Curdie, 'it would be better that he who says anything +about her should be quite sure it is true, lest she should hear him, +and not like to be slandered.' +</P> + +<P> +'But would she like it any better if it were true?' said the same man. +'If she is What they say—I don't know—but I never knew a man that +wouldn't go in a rage to be called the very thing he was.' +</P> + +<P> +'If bad things were true of her, and I knew it,' said Curdie, 'I would +not hesitate to say them, for I will never give in to being afraid of +anything that's bad. I suspect that the things they tell, however, if +we knew all about them, would turn out to have nothing but good in +them; and I won't say a word more for fear I should say something that +mightn't be to her mind.' +</P> + +<P> +They all burst into a loud laugh. +</P> + +<P> +'Hear the parson!' they cried. 'He believes in the witch! Ha! ha!' +</P> + +<P> +'He's afraid of her!' +</P> + +<P> +'And says all she does is good!' +</P> + +<P> +'He wants to make friends with her, that she may help him to find the +silver ore.' +</P> + +<P> +'Give me my own eyes and a good divining rod before all the witches in +the world! And so I'd advise you too, Master Curdie; that is, when +your eyes have grown to be worth anything, and you have learned to cut +the hazel fork.' +</P> + +<P> +Thus they all mocked and jeered at him, but he did his best to keep his +temper and go quietly on with his work. He got as close to his father +as he could, however, for that helped him to bear it. As soon as they +were tired of laughing and mocking, Curdie was friendly with them, and +long before their midday meal all between them was as it had been. +</P> + +<P> +But when the evening came, Peter and Curdie felt that they would rather +walk home together without other company, and therefore lingered behind +when the rest of the men left the mine. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 6 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Emerald +</H3> + +<P> +Father and son had seated themselves on a projecting piece of rock at a +corner where three galleries met—the one they had come along from +their work, one to the right leading out of the mountain, and the other +to the left leading far into a portion of it which had been long +disused. Since the inundation caused by the goblins, it had indeed +been rendered impassable by the settlement of a quantity of the water, +forming a small but very deep lake, in a part where there was a +considerable descent. +</P> + +<P> +They had just risen and were turning to the right, when a gleam caught +their eyes, and made them look along the whole gallery. Far up they +saw a pale green light, whence issuing they could not tell, about +halfway between floor and roof of the passage. They saw nothing but +the light, which was like a large star, with a point of darker colour +yet brighter radiance in the heart of it, whence the rest of the light +shot out in rays that faded toward the ends until they vanished. It +shed hardly any light around it, although in itself it was so bright as +to sting the eyes that beheld it. Wonderful stories had from ages gone +been current in the mines about certain magic gems which gave out light +of themselves, and this light looked just like what might be supposed +to shoot from the heart of such a gem. +</P> + +<P> +They went up the old gallery to find out what it could be. To their +surprise they found, however, that, after going some distance, they +were no nearer to it, so far as they could judge, than when they +started. It did not seem to move, and yet they moving did not approach +it. Still they persevered, for it was far too wonderful a thing to +lose sight of, so long as they could keep it. At length they drew near +the hollow where the water lay, and still were no nearer the light. +Where they expected to be stopped by the water, however, water was +none: something had taken place in some part of the mine that had +drained it off, and the gallery lay open as in former times. +</P> + +<P> +And now, to their surprise, the light, instead of being in front of +them, was shining at the same distance to the right, where they did not +know there was any passage at all. Then they discovered, by the light +of the lanterns they carried, that there the water had broken through, +and made an entrance to a part of the mountain of which Peter knew +nothing. But they were hardly well into it, still following the light, +before Curdie thought he recognized some of the passages he had so +often gone through when he was watching the goblins. +</P> + +<P> +After they had advanced a long way, with many turnings, now to the +right, now to the left, all at once their eyes seemed to come suddenly +to themselves, and they became aware that the light which they had +taken to be a great way from them was in reality almost within reach of +their hands. +</P> + +<P> +The same instant it began to grow larger and thinner, the point of +light grew dim as it spread, the greenness melted away, and in a moment +or two, instead of the star, a dark, dark and yet luminous face was +looking at them with living eyes. And Curdie felt a great awe swell up +in his heart, for he thought he had seen those eyes before. +</P> + +<P> +'I see you know me, Curdie,' said a voice. +</P> + +<P> +'If your eyes are you, ma'am, then I know you,' said Curdie. 'But I +never saw your face before.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, you have seen it, Curdie,' said the voice. And with that the +darkness of its complexion melted away, and down from the face dawned +out the form that belonged to it, until at last Curdie and his father +beheld a lady, beautiful exceedingly, dressed in something pale green, +like velvet, over which her hair fell in cataracts of a rich golden +colour. It looked as if it were pouring down from her head, and, like +the water of the Dustbrook, vanishing in a golden vapour ere it reached +the floor. It came flowing from under the edge of a coronet of gold, +set with alternated pearls and emeralds. In front of the crown was a +great emerald, which looked somehow as if out of it had come the light +they had followed. There was no ornament else about her, except on her +slippers, which were one mass of gleaming emeralds, of various shades +of green, all mingling lovelily like the waving of grass in the wind +and sun. She looked about five-and-twenty years old. And for all the +difference, Curdie knew somehow or other, he could not have told how, +that the face before him was that of the old princess, Irene's +great-great-grandmother. +</P> + +<P> +By this time all around them had grown light, and now first they could +see where they were. They stood in a great splendid cavern, which +Curdie recognized as that in which the goblins held their state +assemblies. But, strange to tell, the light by which they saw came +streaming, sparkling, and shooting from stones of many colours in the +sides and roof and floor of the cavern—stones of all the colours of +the rainbow, and many more. It was a glorious sight—the whole rugged +place flashing with colours—in one spot a great light of deep +carbuncular red, in another of sapphirine blue, in another of topaz +yellow; while here and there were groups of stones of all hues and +sizes, and again nebulous spaces of thousands of tiniest spots of +brilliancy of every conceivable shade. Sometimes the colours ran +together, and made a little river or lake of lambent, interfusing, and +changing tints, which, by their variegation, seemed to imitate the +flowing of water, or waves made by the wind. +</P> + +<P> +Curdie would have gazed entranced, but that all the beauty of the +cavern, yes, of all he knew of the whole creation, seemed gathered in +one centre of harmony and loveliness in the person of the ancient lady +who stood before him in the very summer of beauty and strength. +Turning from the first glance at the circuadjacent splendour, it +dwindled into nothing as he looked again at the lady. Nothing flashed +or glowed or shone about her, and yet it was with a prevision of the +truth that he said, +</P> + +<P> +'I was here once before, ma'am.' +</P> + +<P> +'I know that, Curdie,' she replied. +</P> + +<P> +'The place was full of torches, and the walls gleamed, but nothing as +they do now, and there is no light in the place.' +</P> + +<P> +'You want to know where the light comes from?' she said, smiling. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, ma'am.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then see: I will go out of the cavern. Do not be afraid, but watch.' +</P> + +<P> +She went slowly out. The moment she turned her back to go, the light +began to pale and fade; the moment she was out of their sight the place +was black as night, save that now the smoky yellow-red of their lamps, +which they thought had gone out long ago, cast a dusky glimmer around +them. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 7 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +What Is in a Name? +</H3> + +<P> +For a time that seemed to them long, the two men stood waiting, while +still the Mother of Light did not return. So long was she absent that +they began to grow anxious: how were they to find their way from the +natural hollows of the mountain crossed by goblin paths, if their lamps +should go out? To spend the night there would mean to sit and wait +until an earthquake rent the mountain, or the earth herself fell back +into the smelting furnace of the sun whence she had issued—for it was +all night and no faintest dawn in the bosom of the world. +</P> + +<P> +So long did they wait unrevisited, that, had there not been two of +them, either would at length have concluded the vision a home-born +product of his own seething brain. And their lamps were going out, for +they grew redder and smokier! But they did not lose courage, for there +is a kind of capillary attraction in the facing of two souls, that +lifts faith quite beyond the level to which either could raise it +alone: they knew that they had seen the lady of emeralds, and it was to +give them their own desire that she had gone from them, and neither +would yield for a moment to the half doubts and half dreads that awoke +in his heart. +</P> + +<P> +And still she who with her absence darkened their air did not return. +They grew weary, and sat down on the rocky floor, for wait they +would—indeed, wait they must. Each set his lamp by his knee, and +watched it die. Slowly it sank, dulled, looked lazy and stupid. But +ever as it sank and dulled, the image in his mind of the Lady of Light +grew stronger and clearer. Together the two lamps panted and +shuddered. First one, then the other went out, leaving for a moment a +great, red, evil-smelling snuff. Then all was the blackness of +darkness up to their very hearts and everywhere around them. Was it? +No. Far away—it looked miles away—shone one minute faint point of +green light—where, who could tell? They only knew that it shone. It +grew larger, and seemed to draw nearer, until at last, as they watched +with speechless delight and expectation, it seemed once more within +reach of an outstretched hand. Then it spread and melted away as +before, and there were eyes—and a face—and a lovely form—and lo! the +whole cavern blazing with lights innumerable, and gorgeous, yet soft +and interfused—so blended, indeed, that the eye had to search and see +in order to separate distinct spots of special colour. +</P> + +<P> +The moment they saw the speck in the vast distance they had risen and +stood on their feet. When it came nearer they bowed their heads. Yet +now they looked with fearless eyes, for the woman that was old yet +young was a joy to see, and filled their hearts with reverent delight. +She turned first to Peter. +</P> + +<P> +'I have known you long,' she said. 'I have met you going to and from +the mine, and seen you working in it for the last forty years.' +</P> + +<P> +'How should it be, madam, that a grand lady like you should take notice +of a poor man like me?' said Peter, humbly, but more foolishly than he +could then have understood. +</P> + +<P> +'I am poor as well as rich,' said she. 'I, too, work for my bread, and +I show myself no favour when I pay myself my own wages. Last night +when you sat by the brook, and Curdie told you about my pigeon, and my +spinning, and wondered whether he could believe that he had actually +seen me, I heard what you said to each other. I am always about, as +the miners said the other night when they talked of me as Old Mother +Wotherwop.' +</P> + +<P> +The lovely lady laughed, and her laugh was a lightning of delight in +their souls. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' she went on, 'you have got to thank me that you are so poor, +Peter. I have seen to that, and it has done well for both you and me, +my friend. Things come to the poor that can't get in at the door of +the rich. Their money somehow blocks it up. It is a great privilege +to be poor, Peter—one that no man ever coveted, and but a very few +have sought to retain, but one that yet many have learned to prize. +You must not mistake, however, and imagine it a virtue; it is but a +privilege, and one also that, like other privileges, may be terribly +misused. Had you been rich, my Peter, you would not have been so good +as some rich men I know. And now I am going to tell you what no one +knows but myself: you, Peter, and your wife both have the blood of the +royal family in your veins. I have been trying to cultivate your +family tree, every branch of which is known to me, and I expect Curdie +to turn out a blossom on it. Therefore I have been training him for a +work that must soon be done. I was near losing him, and had to send my +pigeon. Had he not shot it, that would have been better; but he +repented, and that shall be as good in the end.' +</P> + +<P> +She turned to Curdie and smiled. +</P> + +<P> +'Ma'am,' said Curdie, 'may I ask questions?' +</P> + +<P> +'Why not, Curdie?' +</P> + +<P> +'Because I have been told, ma'am, that nobody must ask the king +questions.' +</P> + +<P> +'The king never made that law,' she answered, with some displeasure. +'You may ask me as many as you please—that is, so long as they are +sensible. Only I may take a few thousand years to answer some of them. +But that's nothing. Of all things time is the cheapest.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then would you mind telling me now, ma'am, for I feel very confused +about it—are you the Lady of the Silver Moon?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, Curdie; you may call me that if you like. What it means is true.' +</P> + +<P> +'And now I see you dark, and clothed in green, and the mother of all +the light that dwells in the stones of the earth! And up there they +call you Old Mother Wotherwop! And the Princess Irene told me you were +her great-great-grandmother! And you spin the spider threads, and take +care of a whole people of pigeons; and you are worn to a pale shadow +with old age; and are as young as anybody can be, not to be too young; +and as strong, I do believe, as I am.' +</P> + +<P> +The lady stooped toward a large green stone bedded in the rock of the +floor, and looking like a well of grassy light in it. She laid hold of +it with her fingers, broke it out, and gave it to Peter. 'There!' cried +Curdie. 'I told you so. Twenty men could not have done that. And +your fingers are white and smooth as any lady's in the land. I don't +know what to make of it.' +</P> + +<P> +'I could give you twenty names more to call me, Curdie, and not one of +them would be a false one. What does it matter how many names if the +person is one?' +</P> + +<P> +'Ah! But it is not names only, ma'am. Look at what you were like last +night, and what I see you now!' +</P> + +<P> +'Shapes are only dresses, Curdie, and dresses are only names. That +which is inside is the same all the time.' +</P> + +<P> +'But then how can all the shapes speak the truth?' +</P> + +<P> +'It would want thousands more to speak the truth, Curdie; and then they +could not. But there is a point I must not let you mistake about. It +is one thing the shape I choose to put on, and quite another the shape +that foolish talk and nursery tale may please to put upon me. Also, it +is one thing what you or your father may think about me, and quite +another what a foolish or bad man may see in me. For instance, if a +thief were to come in here just now, he would think he saw the demon of +the mine, all in green flames, come to protect her treasure, and would +run like a hunted wild goat. I should be all the same, but his evil +eyes would see me as I was not.' +</P> + +<P> +'I think I understand,' said Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'Peter,' said the lady, turning then to him, 'you will have to give up +Curdie for a little while.' +</P> + +<P> +'So long as he loves us, ma'am, that will not matter—much.' +</P> + +<P> +'Ah! you are right there, my friend,' said the beautiful princess. And +as she said it she put out her hand, and took the hard, horny hand of +the miner in it, and held it for a moment lovingly. +</P> + +<P> +'I need say no more,' she added, 'for we understand each other—you and +I, Peter.' +</P> + +<P> +The tears came into Peter's eyes. He bowed his head in thankfulness, +and his heart was much too full to speak. +</P> + +<P> +Then the great old, young, beautiful princess turned to Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'Now, Curdie, are you ready?' she said. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, ma'am,' answered Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'You do not know what for.' +</P> + +<P> +'You do, ma'am. That is enough.' +</P> + +<P> +'You could not have given me a better answer, or done more to prepare +yourself, Curdie,' she returned, with one of her radiant smiles. 'Do +you think you will know me again?' +</P> + +<P> +'I think so. But how can I tell what you may look like next?' +</P> + +<P> +'Ah, that indeed! How can you tell? Or how could I expect you should? +But those who know me well, know me whatever new dress or shape or name +I may be in; and by and by you will have learned to do so too.' +</P> + +<P> +'But if you want me to know you again, ma'am, for certain sure,' said +Curdie, 'could you not give me some sign, or tell me something about +you that never changes—or some other way to know you, or thing to know +you by?' +</P> + +<P> +'No, Curdie; that would be to keep you from knowing me. You must know +me in quite another way from that. It would not be the least use to +you or me either if I were to make you know me in that way. It would be +but to know the sign of Me—not to know me myself. It would be no +better than if I were to take this emerald out of my crown and give it +to you to take home with you, and you were to call it me, and talk to +it as if it heard and saw and loved you. Much good that would do you, +Curdie! No; you must do what you can to know me, and if you do, you +will. You shall see me again in very different circumstances from +these, and, I will tell you so much, it may be in a very different +shape. But come now, I will lead you out of this cavern; my good Joan +will be getting too anxious about you. One word more: you will allow +that the men knew little what they were talking about this morning, +when they told all those tales of Old Mother Wotherwop; but did it +occur to you to think how it was they fell to talking about me at all? +It was because I came to them; I was beside them all the time they were +talking about me, though they were far enough from knowing it, and had +very little besides foolishness to say.' +</P> + +<P> +As she spoke she turned and led the way from the cavern, which, as if a +door had been closed, sank into absolute blackness behind them. And +now they saw nothing more of the lady except the green star, which +again seemed a good distance in front of them, and to which they came +no nearer, although following it at a quick pace through the mountain. +Such was their confidence in her guidance, however, and so fearless +were they in consequence, that they felt their way neither with hand +nor foot, but walked straight on through the pitch-dark galleries. +When at length the night of the upper world looked in at the mouth of +the mine, the green light seemed to lose its way among the stars, and +they saw it no more. +</P> + +<P> +Out they came into the cool, blessed night. It was very late, and only +starlight. To their surprise, three paces away they saw, seated upon a +stone, an old country-woman, in a cloak which they took for black. +When they came close up to it, they saw it was red. +</P> + +<P> +'Good evening!' said Peter. +</P> + +<P> +'Good evening!' returned the old woman, in a voice as old as herself. +</P> + +<P> +But Curdie took off his cap and said: +</P> + +<P> +'I am your servant, Princess.' +</P> + +<P> +The old woman replied: +</P> + +<P> +'Come to me in the dove tower tomorrow night, Curdie—alone.' +</P> + +<P> +'I will, ma'am,' said Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +So they parted, and father and son went home to wife and mother—two +persons in one rich, happy woman. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 8 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Curdie's Mission +</H3> + +<P> +The next night Curdie went home from the mine a little earlier than +usual, to make himself tidy before going to the dove tower. The +princess had not appointed an exact time for him to be there; he would +go as near the time he had gone first as he could. On his way to the +bottom of the hill, he met his father coming up. The sun was then +down, and the warm first of the twilight filled the evening. He came +rather wearily up the hill: the road, he thought, must have grown +steeper in parts since he was Curdie's age. His back was to the light +of the sunset, which closed him all round in a beautiful setting, and +Curdie thought what a grand-looking man his father was, even when he +was tired. It is greed and laziness and selfishness, not hunger or +weariness or cold, that take the dignity out of a man, and make him +look mean. +</P> + +<P> +'Ah, Curdie! There you are!' he said, seeing his son come bounding +along as if it were morning with him and not evening. +</P> + +<P> +'You look tired, Father,' said Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, my boy. I'm not so young as you.' +</P> + +<P> +'Nor so old as the princess,' said Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'Tell me this,' said Peter, 'why do people talk about going downhill +when they begin to get old? It seems to me that then first they begin +to go uphill.' +</P> + +<P> +'You looked to me, Father, when I caught sight of you, as if you had +been climbing the hill all your life, and were soon to get to the top.' +</P> + +<P> +'Nobody can tell when that will be,' returned Peter. 'We're so ready +to think we're just at the top when it lies miles away. But I must not +keep you, my boy, for you are wanted; and we shall be anxious to know +what the princess says to you—that is, if she will allow you to tell +us.' +</P> + +<P> +'I think she will, for she knows there is nobody more to be trusted +than my father and mother,' said Curdie, with pride. +</P> + +<P> +And away he shot, and ran, and jumped, and seemed almost to fly down +the long, winding, steep path, until he came to the gate of the king's +house. +</P> + +<P> +There he met an unexpected obstruction: in the open door stood the +housekeeper, and she seemed to broaden herself out until she almost +filled the doorway. +</P> + +<P> +'So!' she said, 'it's you, is it, young man? You are the person that +comes in and goes out when he pleases, and keeps running up and down my +stairs without ever saying by your leave, or even wiping his shoes, and +always leaves the door open! Don't you know this is my house?' +</P> + +<P> +'No, I do not,' returned Curdie respectfully. 'You forget, ma'am, that +it is the king's house.' +</P> + +<P> +'That is all the same. The king left it to me to take care of—and +that you shall know!' +</P> + +<P> +'Is the king dead, ma'am, that he has left it to you?' asked Curdie, +half in doubt from the self-assertion of the woman. +</P> + +<P> +'Insolent fellow!' exclaimed the housekeeper. 'Don't you see by my +dress that I am in the king's service?' +</P> + +<P> +'And am I not one of his miners?' +</P> + +<P> +'Ah! that goes for nothing. I am one of his household. You are an +out-of-doors labourer. You are a nobody. You carry a pickaxe. I +carry the keys at my girdle. See!' +</P> + +<P> +'But you must not call one a nobody to whom the king has spoken,' said +Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'Go along with you!' cried the housekeeper, and would have shut the +door in his face, had she not been afraid that when she stepped back he +would step in ere she could get it in motion, for it was very heavy and +always seemed unwilling to shut. Curdie came a pace nearer. She +lifted the great house key from her side, and threatened to strike him +down with it, calling aloud on Mar and Whelk and Plout, the menservants +under her, to come and help her. Ere one of them could answer, however, +she gave a great shriek and turned and fled, leaving the door wide open. +</P> + +<P> +Curdie looked behind him, and saw an animal whose gruesome oddity even +he, who knew so many of the strange creatures, two of which were never +the same, that used to live inside the mountain with their masters the +goblins, had never seen equalled. Its eyes were flaming with anger, +but it seemed to be at the housekeeper, for it came cowering and +creeping up and laid its head on the ground at Curdie's feet. Curdie +hardly waited to look at it, however, but ran into the house, eager to +get up the stairs before any of the men should come to annoy—he had no +fear of their preventing him. Without halt or hindrance, though the +passages were nearly dark, he reached the door of the princess's +workroom, and knocked. +</P> + +<P> +'Come in,' said the voice of the princess. +</P> + +<P> +Curdie opened the door—but, to his astonishment, saw no room there. +Could he have opened a wrong door? There was the great sky, and the +stars, and beneath he could see nothing only darkness! But what was +that in the sky, straight in front of him? A great wheel of fire, +turning and turning, and flashing out blue lights! +</P> + +<P> +'Come in, Curdie,' said the voice again. +</P> + +<P> +'I would at once, ma'am,' said Curdie, 'if I were sure I was standing +at your door.' +</P> + +<P> +'Why should you doubt it, Curdie?' +</P> + +<P> +'Because I see neither walls nor floor, only darkness and the great +sky.' +</P> + +<P> +'That is all right, Curdie. Come in.' +</P> + +<P> +Curdie stepped forward at once. He was indeed, for the very crumb of a +moment, tempted to feel before him with his foot; but he saw that would +be to distrust the princess, and a greater rudeness he could not offer +her. So he stepped straight in—I will not say without a little +tremble at the thought of finding no floor beneath his foot. But that +which had need of the floor found it, and his foot was satisfied. +</P> + +<P> +No sooner was he in than he saw that the great revolving wheel in the +sky was the princess's spinning wheel, near the other end of the room, +turning very fast. He could see no sky or stars any more, but the +wheel was flashing out blue—oh, such lovely sky-blue light!—and +behind it of course sat the princess, but whether an old woman as thin +as a skeleton leaf, or a glorious lady as young as perfection, he could +not tell for the turning and flashing of the wheel. +</P> + +<P> +'Listen to the wheel,' said the voice which had already grown dear to +Curdie: its very tone was precious like a jewel, not as a jewel, for no +jewel could compare with it in preciousness. +</P> + +<P> +And Curdie listened and listened. +</P> + +<P> +'What is it saying?' asked the voice. +</P> + +<P> +'It is singing,' answered Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'What is it singing?' +</P> + +<P> +Curdie tried to make out, but thought he could not; for no sooner had +he got hold of something than it vanished again. +</P> + +<P> +Yet he listened, and listened, entranced with delight. +</P> + +<P> +'Thank you, Curdie, said the voice. +</P> + +<P> +'Ma'am,' said Curdie, 'I did try hard for a while, but I could not make +anything of it.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh yes, you did, and you have been telling it to me! Shall I tell you +again what I told my wheel, and my wheel told you, and you have just +told me without knowing it?' +</P> + +<P> +'Please, ma'am.' +</P> + +<P> +Then the lady began to sing, and her wheel spun an accompaniment to her +song, and the music of the wheel was like the music of an Aeolian harp +blown upon by the wind that bloweth where it listeth. Oh, the sweet +sounds of that spinning wheel! Now they were gold, now silver, now +grass, now palm trees, now ancient cities, now rubies, now mountain +brooks, now peacock's feathers, now clouds, now snowdrops, and now +mid-sea islands. But for the voice that sang through it all, about +that I have no words to tell. It would make you weep if I were able to +tell you what that was like, it was so beautiful and true and lovely. +But this is something like the words of its song: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The stars are spinning their threads, <BR> +And the clouds are the dust that flies, <BR> +And the suns are weaving them up <BR> +For the time when the sleepers shall rise.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The ocean in music rolls, <BR> +And gems are turning to eyes, <BR> +And the trees are gathering souls <BR> +For the day when the sleepers shall rise.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The weepers are learning to smile, <BR> +And laughter to glean the sighs;<BR> +Burn and bury the care and guile, <BR> +For the day when the sleepers shall rise.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +Oh, the dews and the moths and the daisy red, <BR> +The larks and the glimmers and flows! <BR> +The lilies and sparrows and daily bread, <BR> +And the something that nobody knows!<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The princess stopped, her wheel stopped, and she laughed. And her +laugh was sweeter than song and wheel; sweeter than running brook and +silver bell; sweeter than joy itself, for the heart of the laugh was +love. +</P> + +<P> +'Come now, Curdie, to this side of my wheel, and you will find me,' she +said; and her laugh seemed sounding on still in the words, as if they +were made of breath that had laughed. +</P> + +<P> +Curdie obeyed, and passed the wheel, and there she stood to receive +him!—fairer than when he saw her last, a little younger still, and +dressed not in green and emeralds, but in pale blue, with a coronet of +silver set with pearls, and slippers covered with opals that gleamed +every colour of the rainbow. It was some time before Curdie could take +his eyes from the marvel of her loveliness. Fearing at last that he was +rude, he turned them away; and, behold, he was in a room that was for +beauty marvellous! The lofty ceiling was all a golden vine, Whose +great clusters of carbuncles, rubies, and chrysoberyls hung down like +the bosses of groined arches, and in its centre hung the most glorious +lamp that human eyes ever saw—the Silver Moon itself, a globe of +silver, as it seemed, with a heart of light so wondrous potent that it +rendered the mass translucent, and altogether radiant. +</P> + +<P> +The room was so large that, looking back, he could scarcely see the end +at which he entered; but the other was only a few yards from him—and +there he saw another wonder: on a huge hearth a great fire was burning, +and the fire was a huge heap of roses, and yet it was fire. The smell +of the roses filled the air, and the heat of the flames of them glowed +upon his face. He turned an inquiring look upon the lady, and saw that +she was now seated in an ancient chair, the legs of which were crusted +with gems, but the upper part like a nest of daisies and moss and green +grass. +</P> + +<P> +'Curdie,' she said in answer to his eyes, 'you have stood more than one +trial already, and have stood them well: now I am going to put you to a +harder. Do you think you are prepared for it?' +</P> + +<P> +'How can I tell, ma'am,' he returned, 'seeing I do not know what it is, +or what preparation it needs? Judge me yourself, ma'am.' +</P> + +<P> +'It needs only trust and obedience,' answered the lady. +</P> + +<P> +'I dare not say anything, ma'am. If you think me fit, command me.' +</P> + +<P> +'It will hurt you terribly, Curdie, but that will be all; no real hurt +but much good will come to you from it.' +</P> + +<P> +Curdie made no answer but stood gazing with parted lips in the lady's +face. +</P> + +<P> +'Go and thrust both your hands into that fire,' she said quickly, +almost hurriedly. +</P> + +<P> +Curdie dared not stop to think. It was much too terrible to think +about. He rushed to the fire, and thrust both of his hands right into +the middle of the heap of flaming roses, and his arms halfway up to the +elbows. And it did hurt! But he did not draw them back. He held the +pain as if it were a thing that would kill him if he let it go—as +indeed it would have done. He was in terrible fear lest it should +conquer him. +</P> + +<P> +But when it had risen to the pitch that he thought he could bear it no +longer, it began to fall again, and went on growing less and less until +by contrast with its former severity it had become rather pleasant. At +last it ceased altogether, and Curdie thought his hands must be burned +to cinders if not ashes, for he did not feel them at all. The princess +told him to take them out and look at them. He did so, and found that +all that was gone of them was the rough, hard skin; they were white and +smooth like the princess's. +</P> + +<P> +'Come to me,' she said. +</P> + +<P> +He obeyed and saw, to his surprise, that her face looked as if she had +been weeping. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, Princess! What is the matter?' he cried. 'Did I make a noise and +vex you?' +</P> + +<P> +'No, Curdie, she answered; 'but it was very bad.' +</P> + +<P> +'Did you feel it too then?' +</P> + +<P> +'Of course I did. But now it is over, and all is well. Would you like +to know why I made You put your hands in the fire?' Curdie looked at +them again—then said: +</P> + +<P> +'To take the marks of the work off them and make them fit for the +king's court, I suppose.' +</P> + +<P> +'No, Curdie,' answered the princess, shaking her head, for she was not +pleased with the answer. 'It would be a poor way of making your hands +fit for the king's court to take off them signs of his service. There +is a far greater difference on them than that. Do you feel none?' +</P> + +<P> +'No, ma'am.' +</P> + +<P> +'You will, though, by and by, when the time comes. But perhaps even +then you might not know what had been given you, therefore I will tell +you. Have you ever heard what some philosophers say—that men were all +animals once?' +</P> + +<P> +'No, ma'am.' +</P> + +<P> +'It is of no consequence. But there is another thing that is of the +greatest consequence—this: that all men, if they do not take care, go +down the hill to the animals' country; that many men are actually, all +their lives, going to be beasts. People knew it once, but it is long +since they forgot it.' +</P> + +<P> +'I am not surprised to hear it, ma'am, when I think of some of our +miners.' +</P> + +<P> +'Ah! But you must beware, Curdie, how you say of this man or that man +that he is travelling beastward. There are not nearly so many going +that way as at first sight you might think. When you met your father +on the hill tonight, you stood and spoke together on the same spot; and +although one of you was going up and the other coming down, at a little +distance no one could have told which was bound in the one direction +and which in the other. Just so two people may be at the same spot in +manners and behaviour, and yet one may be getting better and the other +worse, which is just the greatest of all differences that could +possibly exist between them.' +</P> + +<P> +'But ma'am,' said Curdie, 'where is the good of knowing that there is +such a difference, if you can never know where it is?' +</P> + +<P> +'Now, Curdie, you must mind exactly what words I use, because although +the right words cannot do exactly what I want them to do, the wrong +words will certainly do what I do not want them to do. I did not say +you can never know. When there is a necessity for your knowing, when +you have to do important business with this or that man, there is +always a way of knowing enough to keep you from any great blunder. And +as you will have important business to do by and by, and that with +people of whom you yet know nothing, it will be necessary that you +should have some better means than usual of learning the nature of them. +</P> + +<P> +'Now listen. Since it is always what they do, whether in their minds +or their bodies, that makes men go down to be less than men, that is, +beasts, the change always comes first in their hands—and first of all +in the inside hands, to which the outside ones are but as the gloves. +They do not know it of course; for a beast does not know that he is a +beast, and the nearer a man gets to being a beast the less he knows it. +Neither can their best friends, or their worst enemies indeed, see any +difference in their hands, for they see only the living gloves of them. +But there are not a few who feel a vague something repulsive in the +hand of a man who is growing a beast. +</P> + +<P> +'Now here is what the rose-fire has done for you: it has made your +hands so knowing and wise, it has brought your real hands so near the +outside of your flesh gloves, that you will henceforth be able to know +at once the hand of a man who is growing into a beast; nay, more—you +will at once feel the foot of the beast he is growing, just as if there +were no glove made like a man's hand between you and it. +</P> + +<P> +'Hence of course it follows that you will be able often, and with +further education in zoology, will be able always to tell, not only +when a man is growing a beast, but what beast he is growing to, for you +will know the foot—what it is and what beast's it is. According, then, +to your knowledge of that beast will be your knowledge of the man you +have to do with. Only there is one beautiful and awful thing about it, +that if any one gifted with this perception once uses it for his own +ends, it is taken from him, and then, not knowing that it is gone, he +is in a far worse condition than before, for he trusts to what he has +not got.' +</P> + +<P> +'How dreadful!' Said Curdie. 'I must mind what I am about.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, indeed, Curdie.' +</P> + +<P> +'But may not one sometimes make a mistake without being able to help +it?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes. But so long as he is not after his own ends, he will never make +a serious mistake.' +</P> + +<P> +'I suppose you want me, ma'am, to warn every one whose hand tells me +that he is growing a beast—because, as you say, he does not know it +himself.' +</P> + +<P> +The princess smiled. +</P> + +<P> +'Much good that would do, Curdie! I don't say there are no cases in +which it would be of use, but they are very rare and peculiar cases, +and if such come you will know them. To such a person there is in +general no insult like the truth. He cannot endure it, not because he +is growing a beast, but because he is ceasing to be a man. It is the +dying man in him that it makes uncomfortable, and he trots, or creeps, +or swims, or flutters out of its way—calls it a foolish feeling, a +whim, an old wives' fable, a bit of priests' humbug, an effete +superstition, and so on.' +</P> + +<P> +'And is there no hope for him? Can nothing be done? It's so awful to +think of going down, down, down like that!' +</P> + +<P> +'Even when it's with his own will?' +</P> + +<P> +'That's what seems to me to make it worst of all,' said Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'You are right,' answered the princess, nodding her head; 'but there is +this amount of excuse to make for all such, remember—that they do not +know what or how horrid their coming fate is. Many a lady, so delicate +and nice that she can bear nothing coarser than the finest linen to +touch her body, if she had a mirror that could show her the animal she +is growing to, as it lies waiting within the fair skin and the fine +linen and the silk and the jewels, would receive a shock that might +possibly wake her up.' +</P> + +<P> +'Why then, ma'am, shouldn't she have it?' +</P> + +<P> +The princess held her peace. +</P> + +<P> +'Come here, Lina,' she said after a long pause. +</P> + +<P> +From somewhere behind Curdie, crept forward the same hideous animal +which had fawned at his feet at the door, and which, without his +knowing it, had followed him every step up the dove tower. She ran to +the princess, and lay down flat at her feet, looking up at her with an +expression so pitiful that in Curdie's heart it overcame all the +ludicrousness of her horrible mass of incongruities. She had a very +short body, and very long legs made like an elephant's, so that in +lying down she kneeled with both pairs. Her tail, which dragged on the +floor behind her, was twice as long and quite as thick as her body. +Her head was something between that of a polar bear and a snake. Her +eyes were dark green, with a yellow light in them. Her under teeth +came up like a fringe of icicles, only very white, outside of her upper +lip. Her throat looked as if the hair had been plucked off. It showed +a skin white and smooth. +</P> + +<P> +'Give Curdie a paw, Lina,' said the princess. +</P> + +<P> +The creature rose, and, lifting a long foreleg, held up a great doglike +paw to Curdie. He took it gently. But what a shudder, as of terrified +delight, ran through him, when, instead of the paw of a dog, such as it +seemed to his eyes, he clasped in his great mining fist the soft, neat +little hand of a child! He took it in both of his, and held it as if +he could not let it go. The green eyes stared at him with their yellow +light, and the mouth was turned up toward him with its constant half +grin; but here was the child's hand! If he could but pull the child +out of the beast! His eyes sought the princess. She was watching him +with evident satisfaction. +</P> + +<P> +'Ma'am, here is a child's hand!' said Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'Your gift does more for you than it promised. It is yet better to +perceive a hidden good than a hidden evil.' +</P> + +<P> +'But,' began Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'I am not going to answer any more questions this evening,' interrupted +the princess. 'You have not half got to the bottom of the answers I +have already given you. That paw in your hand now might almost teach +you the whole science of natural history—the heavenly sort, I mean.' +</P> + +<P> +'I will think,' said Curdie. 'But oh! please! one word more: may I +tell my father and mother all about it?' +</P> + +<P> +'Certainly—though perhaps now it may be their turn to find it a little +difficult to believe that things went just as you must tell them.' +</P> + +<P> +'They shall see that I believe it all this time,' said Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'Tell them that tomorrow morning you must set out for the court—not +like a great man, but just as poor as you are. They had better not +speak about it. Tell them also that it will be a long time before they +hear of you again, but they must not lose heart. And tell your father +to lay that stone I gave him at night in a safe place—not because of +the greatness of its price, although it is such an emerald as no prince +has in his crown, but because it will be a news-bearer between you and +him. As often as he gets at all anxious about you, he must take it and +lay it in the fire, and leave it there when he goes to bed. In the +morning he must find it in the ashes, and if it be as green as ever, +then all goes well with you; if it have lost colour, things go ill with +you; but if it be very pale indeed, then you are in great danger, and +he must come to me.' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, ma'am,' said Curdie. 'Please, am I to go now?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' answered the princess, and held out her hand to him. +</P> + +<P> +Curdie took it, trembling with joy. It was a very beautiful hand—not +small, very smooth, but not very soft—and just the same to his +fire-taught touch that it was to his eyes. He would have stood there +all night holding it if she had not gently withdrawn it. +</P> + +<P> +'I will provide you a servant,' she said, 'for your journey and to wait +upon you afterward.' +</P> + +<P> +'But where am I to go, ma'am, and what am I to do? You have given me +no message to carry, neither have you said what I am wanted for. I go +without a notion whether I am to walk this way or that, or what I am to +do when I get I don't know where.' +</P> + +<P> +'Curdie!' said the princess, and there was a tone of reminder in his +own name as she spoke it, 'did I not tell you to tell your father and +mother that you were to set out for the court? And you know that lies +to the north. You must learn to use far less direct directions than +that. You must not be like a dull servant that needs to be told again +and again before he will understand. You have orders enough to start +with, and you will find, as you go on, and as you need to know, what +you have to do. But I warn you that perhaps it will not look the least +like what you may have been fancying I should require of you. I have +one idea of you and your work, and you have another. I do not blame +you for that—you cannot help it yet; but you must be ready to let my +idea, which sets you working, set your idea right. Be true and honest +and fearless, and all shall go well with you and your work, and all +with whom your work lies, and so with your parents—and me too, +Curdie,' she added after a little pause. +</P> + +<P> +The young miner bowed his head low, patted the strange head that lay at +the princess's feet, and turned away. As soon as he passed the +spinning wheel, which looked, in the midst of the glorious room, just +like any wheel you might find in a country cottage—old and worn and +dingy and dusty—the splendour of the place vanished, and he saw but +the big bare room he seemed at first to have entered, with the +moon—the princess's moon no doubt—shining in at one of the windows +upon the spinning wheel. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 9 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Hands +</H3> + +<P> +Curdie went home, pondering much, and told everything to his father and +mother. As the old princess had said, it was now their turn to find +what they heard hard to believe. If they had not been able to trust +Curdie himself, they would have refused to believe more than the half +of what he reported, then they would have refused that half too, and at +last would most likely for a time have disbelieved in the very +existence of the princess, what evidence their own senses had given +them notwithstanding. +</P> + +<P> +For he had nothing conclusive to show in proof of what he told them. +When he held out his hands to them, his mother said they looked as if +he had been washing them with soft soap, only they did smell of +something nicer than that, and she must allow it was more like roses +than anything else she knew. His father could not see any difference +upon his hands, but then it was night, he said, and their poor little +lamp was not enough for his old eyes. As to the feel of them, each of +his own hands, he said, was hard and horny enough for two, and it must +be the fault of the dullness of his own thick skin that he felt no +change on Curdie's palms. +</P> + +<P> +'Here, Curdie,' said his mother, 'try my hand, and see what beast's paw +lies inside it.' +</P> + +<P> +'No, Mother,' answered Curdie, half beseeching, half indignant, 'I will +not insult my new gift by making pretence to try it. That would be +mockery. There is no hand within yours but the hand of a true woman, +my mother.' +</P> + +<P> +'I should like you just to take hold of my hand though,' said his +mother. 'You are my son, and may know all the bad there is in me.' +</P> + +<P> +Then at once Curdie took her hand in his. And when he had it, he kept +it, stroking it gently with his other hand. +</P> + +<P> +'Mother,' he said at length, 'your hand feels just like that of the +princess.' +</P> + +<P> +'What! My horny, cracked, rheumatic old hand, with its big joints, and +its short nails all worn down to the quick with hard work—like the +hand of the beautiful princess! Why, my child, you will make me fancy +your fingers have grown very dull indeed, instead of sharp and +delicate, if you talk such nonsense. Mine is such an ugly hand I +should be ashamed to show it to any but one that loved me. But love +makes all safe—doesn't it, Curdie?' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, Mother, all I can say is that I don't feel a roughness, or a +crack, or a big joint, or a short nail. Your hand feels just and +exactly, as near as I can recollect, and it's not more than two hours +since I had it in mine—well, I will say, very like indeed to that of +the old princess.' +</P> + +<P> +'Go away, you flatterer,' said his mother, with a smile that showed how +she prized the love that lay beneath what she took for its hyperbole. +The praise even which one cannot accept is sweet from a true mouth. +'If that is all your new gift can do, it won't make a warlock of you,' +she added. +</P> + +<P> +'Mother, it tells me nothing but the truth,' insisted Curdie, 'however +unlike the truth it may seem. It wants no gift to tell what anybody's +outside hands are like. But by it I know your inside hands are like +the princess's.' +</P> + +<P> +'And I am sure the boy speaks true,' said Peter. 'He only says about +your hand what I have known ever so long about yourself, Joan. Curdie, +your mother's foot is as pretty a foot as any lady's in the land, and +where her hand is not so pretty it comes of killing its beauty for you +and me, my boy. And I can tell you more, Curdie. I don't know much +about ladies and gentlemen, but I am sure your inside mother must be a +lady, as her hand tells you, and I will try to say how I know it. This +is how: when I forget myself looking at her as she goes about her +work—and that happens often as I grow older—I fancy for a moment or +two that I am a gentleman; and when I wake up from my little dream, it +is only to feel the more strongly that I must do everything as a +gentleman should. I will try to tell you what I mean, Curdie. If a +gentleman—I mean a real gentleman, not a pretended one, of which sort +they say there are a many above ground—if a real gentleman were to +lose all his money and come down to work in the mines to get bread for +his family—do you think, Curdie, he would work like the lazy ones? +Would he try to do as little as he could for his wages? I know the +sort of the true gentleman pretty near as well as he does himself. And +my wife, that's your mother, Curdie, she's a true lady, you may take my +word for it, for it's she that makes me want to be a true gentleman. +Wife, the boy is in the right about your hand.' +</P> + +<P> +'Now, Father, let me feel yours,' said Curdie, daring a little more. +</P> + +<P> +'No, no, my boy,' answered Peter. 'I don't want to hear anything about +my hand or my head or my heart. I am what I am, and I hope growing +better, and that's enough. No, you shan't feel my hand. You must go to +bed, for you must start with the sun.' +</P> + +<P> +It was not as if Curdie had been leaving them to go to prison, or to +make a fortune, and although they were sorry enough to lose him, they +were not in the least heartbroken or even troubled at his going. +</P> + +<P> +As the princess had said he was to go like the poor man he was, Curdie +came down in the morning from his little loft dressed in his working +clothes. His mother, who was busy getting his breakfast for him, while +his father sat reading to her out of an old book, would have had him +put on his holiday garments, which, she said, would look poor enough +among the fine ladies and gentlemen he was going to. But Curdie said +he did not know that he was going among ladies and gentlemen, and that +as work was better than play, his workday clothes must on the whole be +better than his playday Clothes; and as his father accepted the +argument, his mother gave in. When he had eaten his breakfast, she +took a pouch made of goatskin, with the long hair on it, filled it with +bread and cheese, and hung it over his shoulder. Then his father gave +him a stick he had cut for him in the wood, and he bade them good-bye +rather hurriedly, for he was afraid of breaking down. As he went out +he caught up his mattock and took it with him. It had on the one side +a pointed curve of strong steel for loosening the earth and the ore, +and on the other a steel hammer for breaking the stones and rocks. +Just as he crossed the threshold the sun showed the first segment of +his disc above the horizon. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 10 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Heath +</H3> + +<P> +He had to go to the bottom of the hill to get into a country he could +cross, for the mountains to the north were full of precipices, and it +would have been losing time to go that way. Not until he had reached +the king's house was it any use to turn northwards. Many a look did he +raise, as he passed it, to the dove tower, and as long as it was in +sight, but he saw nothing of the lady of the pigeons. +</P> + +<P> +On and on he fared, and came in a few hours to a country where there +were no mountains more—only hills, with great stretches of desolate +heath. Here and there was a village, but that brought him little +pleasure, for the people were rougher and worse mannered than those in +the mountains, and as he passed through, the children came behind and +mocked him. +</P> + +<P> +'There's a monkey running away from the mines!' they cried. Sometimes +their parents came out and encouraged them. +</P> + +<P> +'He doesn't want to find gold for the king any longer—the lazybones!' +they would say. 'He'll be well taxed down here though, and he won't +like that either.' +</P> + +<P> +But it was little to Curdie that men who did not know what he was about +should not approve of his proceedings. He gave them a merry answer now +and then, and held diligently on his way. When they got so rude as +nearly to make him angry, he would treat them as he used to treat the +goblins, and sing his own songs to keep out their foolish noises. Once +a child fell as he turned to run away after throwing a stone at him. +He picked him up, kissed him, and carried him to his mother. The woman +had run out in terror when she saw the strange miner about, as she +thought, to take vengeance on her boy. When he put him in her arms, +she blessed him, and Curdie went on his way rejoicing. +</P> + +<P> +And so the day went on, and the evening came, and in the middle of a +great desolate heath he began to feel tired, and sat down under an +ancient hawthorn, through which every now and then a lone wind that +seemed to come from nowhere and to go nowhither sighed and hissed. It +was very old and distorted. There was not another tree for miles all +around. It seemed to have lived so long, and to have been so torn and +tossed by the tempests on that moor, that it had at last gathered a +wind of its own, which got up now and then, tumbled itself about, and +lay down again. +</P> + +<P> +Curdie had been so eager to get on that he had eaten nothing since his +breakfast. But he had had plenty of water, for Many little streams had +crossed his path. He now opened the wallet his mother had given him, +and began to eat his supper. The sun was setting. A few clouds had +gathered about the west, but there was not a single cloud anywhere else +to be seen. +</P> + +<P> +Now Curdie did not know that this was a part of the country very hard +to get through. Nobody lived there, though many had tried to build in +it. Some died very soon. Some rushed out of it. Those who stayed +longest went raving mad, and died a terrible death. Such as walked +straight on, and did not spend a night there, got through well and were +nothing the worse. But those who slept even a single night in it were +sure to meet with something they could never forget, and which often +left a mark everybody could read. And that old hawthorn Might have been +enough for a warning—it looked so like a human being dried up and +distorted with age and suffering, with cares instead of loves, and +things instead of thoughts. Both it and the heath around it, which +stretched on all sides as far as he could see, were so withered that it +was impossible to say whether they were alive or not. +</P> + +<P> +And while Curdie ate there came a change. Clouds had gathered over his +head, and seemed drifting about in every direction, as if not +'shepherded by the slow, unwilling wind,' but hunted in all directions +by wolfish flaws across the plains of the sky. The sun was going down +in a storm of lurid crimson, and out of the west came a wind that felt +red and hot the one moment, and cold and pale the other. And very +strangely it sang in the dreary old hawthorn tree, and very cheerily it +blew about Curdie, now making him creep close up to the tree for +shelter from its shivery cold, now fan himself with his cap, it was so +sultry and stifling. It seemed to come from the deathbed of the sun, +dying in fever and ague. +</P> + +<P> +And as he gazed at the sun, now on the verge of the horizon, very large +and very red and very dull—for though the clouds had broken away a +dusty fog was spread all over the disc—Curdie saw something strange +appear against it, moving about like a fly over its burning face. This +looked as if it were coming out of the sun's furnace heart, and was a +living creature of some kind surely; but its shape was very uncertain, +because the dazzle of the light all around melted the outlines. +</P> + +<P> +It was growing larger, it must be approaching! It grew so rapidly that +by the time the sun was half down its head reached the top of the arch, +and presently nothing but its legs were to be seen, crossing and +recrossing the face of the vanishing disc. +</P> + +<P> +When the sun was down he could see nothing of it more, but in a moment +he heard its feet galloping over the dry crackling heather, and seeming +to come straight for him. He stood up, lifted his pickaxes and threw +the hammer end over his shoulder: he was going to have a fight for his +life! And now it appeared again, vague, yet very awful, in the dim +twilight the sun had left behind. But just before it reached him, down +from its four long legs it dropped flat on the ground, and came +crawling towards him, wagging a huge tail as it came. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 11 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Lina +</H3> + +<P> +It was Lina. All at once Curdie recognized her—the frightful creature +he had seen at the princess's. He dropped his pickaxes and held out +his hand. She crept nearer and nearer, and laid her chin in his palm, +and he patted her ugly head. Then she crept away behind the tree, and +lay down, panting hard. +</P> + +<P> +Curdie did not much like the idea of her being behind him. Horrible as +she was to look at, she seemed to his mind more horrible when he was +not looking at her. But he remembered the child's hand, and never +thought of driving her away. Now and then he gave a glance behind him, +and there she lay flat, with her eyes closed and her terrible teeth +gleaming between her two huge forepaws. +</P> + +<P> +After his supper and his long day's journey it was no wonder Curdie +should now be sleepy. Since the sun set the air had been warm and +pleasant. He lay down under the tree, closed his eyes, and thought to +sleep. He found himself mistaken, however. But although he could not +sleep, he was yet aware of resting delightfully. +</P> + +<P> +Presently he heard a sweet sound of singing somewhere, such as he had +never heard before—a singing as of curious birds far off, which drew +nearer and nearer. At length he heard their wings, and, opening his +eyes, saw a number of very large birds, as it seemed, alighting around +him, still singing. It was strange to hear song from the throats of +such big birds. +</P> + +<P> +And still singing, with large and round but not the less birdlike +voices, they began to weave a strange dance about him, moving their +wings in time with their legs. But the dance seemed somehow to be +troubled and broken, and to return upon itself in an eddy, in place of +sweeping smoothly on. +</P> + +<P> +And he soon learned, in the low short growls behind him, the cause of +the imperfection: they wanted to dance all round the tree, but Lina +would not permit them to come on her side. +</P> + +<P> +Now curdie liked the birds, and did not altogether like Lina. But +neither, nor both together, made a reason for driving away the +princess's creature. Doubtless she had been the goblins' creature, but +the last time he saw her was in the king's house and the dove tower, +and at the old princess's feet. So he left her to do as she would, and +the dance of the birds continued only a semicircle, troubled at the +edges, and returning upon itself. +</P> + +<P> +But their song and their motions, nevertheless, and the waving of their +wings, began at length to make him very sleepy. All the time he had +kept doubting whether they could really be birds, and the sleepier he +got, the more he imagined them something else, but he suspected no harm. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly, just as he was sinking beneath the waves of slumber, he awoke +in fierce pain. The birds were upon him—all over him—and had begun +to tear him with beaks and claws. He had but time, however, to feel +that he could not move under their weight, when they set up a hideous +screaming, and scattered like a cloud. Lina was among them, snapping +and striking with her paws, while her tail knocked them over and over. +But they flew up, gathered, and descended on her in a swarm, perching +upon every part of her body, so that he could see only a huge misshapen +mass, which seemed to go rolling away into the darkness. He got up and +tried to follow, but could see nothing, and after wandering about +hither and thither for some time, found himself again beside the +hawthorn. He feared greatly that the birds had been too much for Lina, +and had torn her to pieces. In a little while, however, she came +limping back, and lay down in her old place. Curdie also lay down, +but, from the pain of his wounds, there was no sleep for him. When the +light came he found his clothes a good deal torn and his skin as well, +but gladly wondered why the wicked birds had not at once attacked his +eyes. Then he turned, looking for Lina. She rose and crept to him. +But she was in far worse plight than he—plucked and gashed and torn +with the beaks and claws of the birds, especially about the bare part +of her neck, so that she was pitiful to see. And those worst wounds +she could not reach to lick. +</P> + +<P> +'Poor Lina!' said Curdie, 'you got all those helping me.' +</P> + +<P> +She wagged her tail, and made it clear she understood him. Then it +flashed upon Curdie's mind that perhaps this was the companion the +princess had promised him. For the princess did so many things +differently from what anybody looked for! Lina was no beauty +certainly, but already, the first night, she had saved his life. +</P> + +<P> +'Come along, Lina,' he said, 'we want water.' +</P> + +<P> +She put her nose to the earth, and after snuffing for a moment, darted +off in a straight line. Curdie followed. The ground was so uneven, +that after losing sight of her many times, at last he seemed to have +lost her altogether. In a few minutes, however, he came upon her +waiting for him. Instantly she darted off again. After he had lost and +found her again many times, he found her the last time lying beside a +great stone. As soon as he came up she began scratching at it with her +paws. When he had raised it an inch or two, she shoved in first her +nose and then her teeth, and lifted with all the might of her neck. +</P> + +<P> +When at length between them they got it up, there was a beautiful +little well. He filled his cap with the clearest and sweetest water, +and drank. Then he gave to Lina, and she drank plentifully. Next he +washed her wounds very carefully. And as he did so, he noted how much +the bareness of her neck added to the strange repulsiveness of her +appearance. Then he bethought him of the goatskin wallet his mother +had given him, and taking it from his shoulders, tried whether it would +do to make a collar of for the poor animal. He found there was just +enough, and the hair so similar in colour to Lina's, that no one could +suspect it of having grown somewhere else. +</P> + +<P> +He took his knife, ripped up the seams of the wallet, and began trying +the skin to her neck. It was plain she understood perfectly what he +wished, for she endeavoured to hold her neck conveniently, turning it +this way and that while he contrived, with his rather scanty material, +to make the collar fit. As his mother had taken care to provide him +with needles and thread, he soon had a nice gorget ready for her. He +laced it on with one of his boot laces, which its long hair covered. +Poor Lina looked much better in it. Nor could any one have called it a +piece of finery. If ever green eyes with a yellow light in them looked +grateful, hers did. +</P> + +<P> +As they had no longer any bag to carry them in, Curdie and Lina now ate +what was left of the provisions. Then they set out again upon their +journey. For seven days it lasted. They met with various adventures, +and in all of them Lina proved so helpful, and so ready to risk her +life for the sake of her companion, that Curdie grew not merely very +fond but very trustful of her; and her ugliness, which at first only +moved his pity, now actually increased his affection for her. One day, +looking at her stretched on the grass before him, he said: +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, Lina! If the princess would but burn you in her fire of roses!' +</P> + +<P> +She looked up at him, gave a mournful whine like a dog, and laid her +head on his feet. What or how much he could not tell, but clearly she +had gathered something from his words. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 12 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +More Creatures +</H3> + +<P> +One day from morning till night they had been passing through a forest. +As soon as the sun was down Curdie began to be aware that there were +more in it than themselves. First he saw only the swift rush of a +figure across the trees at some distance. Then he saw another and then +another at shorter intervals. Then he saw others both farther off and +nearer. At last, missing Lina and looking about after her, he saw an +appearance as marvellous as herself steal up to her, and begin +conversing with her after some beast fashion which evidently she +understood. +</P> + +<P> +Presently what seemed a quarrel arose between them, and stranger noises +followed, mingled with growling. At length it came to a fight, which +had not lasted long, however, before the creature of the wood threw +itself upon its back, and held up its paws to Lina. She instantly +walked on, and the creature got up and followed her. They had not gone +far before another strange animal appeared, approaching Lina, when +precisely the same thing was repeated, the vanquished animal rising and +following with the former. Again, and yet again, and again, a fresh +animal came up, seemed to be reasoned and certainly was fought with and +overcome by Lina, until at last, before they were out of the wood, she +was followed by forty-nine of the most grotesquely ugly, the most +extravagantly abnormal animals imagination can conceive. To describe +them were a hopeless task. +</P> + +<P> +I knew a boy who used to make animals out of heather roots. Wherever he +could find four legs, he was pretty sure to find a head and a tail. +His beasts were a most comic menagerie, and right fruitful of laughter. +But they were not so grotesque and extravagant as Lina and her +followers. One of them, for instance, was like a boa constrictor +walking on four little stumpy legs near its tail. About the same +distance from its head were two little wings, which it was forever +fluttering as if trying to fly with them. Curdie thought it fancied it +did fly with them, when it was merely plodding on busily with its four +little stumps. How it managed to keep up he could not think, till once +when he missed it from the group: the same moment he caught sight of +something at a distance plunging at an awful serpentine rate through +the trees, and presently, from behind a huge ash, this same creature +fell again into the group, quietly waddling along on its four stumps. +</P> + +<P> +Watching it after this, he saw that, when it was not able to keep up +any longer, and they had all got a little space ahead, it shot into the +wood away from the route, and made a great round, serpentine alone in +huge billows of motion, devouring the ground, undulating awfully, +galloping as if it were all legs together, and its four stumps nowhere. +In this mad fashion it shot ahead, and, a few minutes after, toddled in +again among the rest, walking peacefully and somewhat painfully on its +few fours. +</P> + +<P> +From the time it takes to describe one of them it will be readily seen +that it would hardly do to attempt a description of each of the +forty-nine. They were not a goodly company, but well worth +contemplating, nevertheless; and Curdie had been too long used to the +goblins' creatures in the mines and on the mountain, to feel the least +uncomfortable at being followed by such a herd. On the contrary, the +marvellous vagaries of shape they manifested amused him greatly, and +shortened the journey much. +</P> + +<P> +Before they were all gathered, however, it had got so dark that he +could see some of them only a part at a time, and every now and then, +as the company wandered on, he would be startled by some extraordinary +limb or feature, undreamed of by him before, thrusting itself out of +the darkness into the range of his ken. Probably there were some of his +old acquaintances among them, although such had been the conditions of +semi-darkness, in which alone he had ever seen any of them, that it was +not like he would be able to identify any of them. +</P> + +<P> +On they marched solemnly, almost in silence, for either with feet or +voice the creatures seldom made any noise. By the time they reached +the outside of the wood it was morning twilight. Into the open trooped +the strange torrent of deformity, each one following Lina. Suddenly +she stopped, turned towards them, and said something which they +understood, although to Curdie's ear the sounds she made seemed to have +no articulation. Instantly they all turned, and vanished in the +forest, and Lina alone came trotting lithely and clumsily after her +master. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 13 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Baker's Wife +</H3> + +<P> +They were now passing through a lovely country of hill and dale and +rushing stream. The hills were abrupt, with broken chasms for +watercourses, and deep little valleys full of trees. But now and then +they came to a larger valley, with a fine river, whose level banks and +the adjacent meadows were dotted all over with red and white kine, +while on the fields above, that sloped a little to the foot of the +hills, grew oats and barley and wheat, and on the sides of the hills +themselves vines hung and chestnuts rose. +</P> + +<P> +They came at last to a broad, beautiful river, up which they must go to +arrive at the city of Gwyntystorm, where the king had his court. As +they went the valley narrowed, and then the river, but still it was +wide enough for large boats. After this, while the river kept its +size, the banks narrowed, until there was only room for a road between +the river and the great Cliffs that overhung it. At last river and road +took a sudden turn, and lo! a great rock in the river, which dividing +flowed around it, and on the top of the rock the city, with lofty walls +and towers and battlements, and above the city the palace of the king, +built like a strong castle. But the fortifications had long been +neglected, for the whole country was now under one king, and all men +said there was no more need for weapons or walls. No man pretended to +love his neighbour, but every one said he knew that peace and quiet +behaviour was the best thing for himself, and that, he said, was quite +as useful, and a great deal more reasonable. The city was prosperous +and rich, and if everybody was not comfortable, everybody else said he +ought to be. +</P> + +<P> +When Curdie got up opposite the mighty rock, which sparkled all over +with crystals, he found a narrow bridge, defended by gates and +portcullis and towers with loopholes. But the gates stood wide open, +and were dropping from their great hinges; the portcullis was eaten +away with rust, and clung to the grooves evidently immovable; while the +loopholed towers had neither floor nor roof, and their tops were fast +filling up their interiors. Curdie thought it a pity, if only for +their old story, that they should be thus neglected. But everybody in +the city regarded these signs of decay as the best proof of the +prosperity of the place. Commerce and self-interest, they said, had +got the better of violence, and the troubles of the past were whelmed +in the riches that flowed in at their open gates. +</P> + +<P> +Indeed, there was one sect of philosophers in it which taught that it +would be better to forget all the past history of the city, were it not +that its former imperfections taught its present inhabitants how +superior they and their times were, and enabled them to glory over +their ancestors. There were even certain quacks in the city who +advertised pills for enabling people to think well of themselves, and +some few bought of them, but most laughed, and said, with evident +truth, that they did not require them. Indeed, the general theme of +discourse when they met was, how much wiser they were than their +fathers. +</P> + +<P> +Curdie crossed the river, and began to ascend the winding road that led +up to the city. They met a good many idlers, and all stared at them. +It was no wonder they should stare, but there was an unfriendliness in +their looks which Curdie did not like. No one, however, offered them +any molestation: Lina did not invite liberties. After a long ascent, +they reached the principal gate of the city and entered. +</P> + +<P> +The street was very steep, ascending toward the palace, which rose in +great strength above all the houses. Just as they entered, a baker, +whose shop was a few doors inside the gate, came out in his white +apron, and ran to the shop of his friend, the barber, on the opposite +side of the way. But as he ran he stumbled and fell heavily. Curdie +hastened to help him up, and found he had bruised his forehead badly. +He swore grievously at the stone for tripping him up, declaring it was +the third time he had fallen over it within the last month; and saying +what was the king about that he allowed such a stone to stick up +forever on the main street of his royal residence of Gwyntystorm! What +was a king for if he would not take care of his people's heads! And he +stroked his forehead tenderly. +</P> + +<P> +'Was it your head or your feet that ought to bear the blame of your +fall?' asked Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'Why, you booby of a miner! My feet, of course,' answered the baker. +</P> + +<P> +'Nay, then,' said Curdie, 'the king can't be to blame.' +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, I see!' said the baker. 'You're laying a trap for me. Of course, +if you come to that, it was my head that ought to have looked after my +feet. But it is the king's part to look after us all, and have his +streets smooth.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, I don't see, said Curdie, 'why the king should take care of the +baker, when the baker's head won't take care of the baker's feet.' +</P> + +<P> +'Who are you to make game of the king's baker?' cried the man in a rage. +</P> + +<P> +But, instead of answering, Curdie went up to the bump on the street +which had repeated itself on the baker's head, and turning the hammer +end of his mattock, struck it such a blow that it flew wide in pieces. +Blow after blow he struck until he had levelled it with the street. +</P> + +<P> +But out flew the barber upon him in a rage. 'What do you break my +window for, you rascal, with your pickaxe?' +</P> + +<P> +'I am very sorry,' said Curdie. 'It must have been a bit of stone that +flew from my mattock. I couldn't help it, you know.' +</P> + +<P> +'Couldn't help it! A fine story! What do you go breaking the rock +for—the very rock upon which the city stands?' +</P> + +<P> +'Look at your friend's forehead,' said Curdie. 'See what a lump he has +got on it with falling over that same stone.' +</P> + +<P> +'What's that to my window?' cried the barber. 'His forehead can mend +itself; my poor window can't.' +</P> + +<P> +'But he's the king's baker,' said Curdie, more and more surprised at +the man's anger. +</P> + +<P> +'What's that to me? This is a free city. Every man here takes care of +himself, and the king takes care of us all. I'll have the price of my +window out of you, or the exchequer shall pay for it.' +</P> + +<P> +Something caught Curdie's eye. He stooped, picked up a piece of the +stone he had just broken, and put it in his pocket. +</P> + +<P> +'I suppose you are going to break another of my windows with that +stone!' said the barber. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh no,' said Curdie. 'I didn't mean to break your window, and I +certainly won't break another.' +</P> + +<P> +'Give me that stone,' said the barber. +</P> + +<P> +Curdie gave it him, and the barber threw it over the city wall. +</P> + +<P> +'I thought you wanted the stone,' said Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'No, you fool!' answered the barber. 'What should I want with a stone?' +</P> + +<P> +Curdie stooped and picked up another. +</P> + +<P> +'Give me that stone,' said the barber. +</P> + +<P> +'No,' answered Curdie. 'You have just told me YOU don't want a stone, +and I do.' +</P> + +<P> +The barber took Curdie by the collar. +</P> + +<P> +'Come, now! You pay me for that window.' +</P> + +<P> +'How much?' asked Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +The barber said, 'A crown.' But the baker, annoyed at the +heartlessness of the barber, in thinking more of his broken window than +the bump on his friend's forehead, interfered. +</P> + +<P> +'No, no,' he said to Curdie; 'don't you pay any such sum. A little +pane like that cost only a quarter.' +</P> + +<P> +'Well, to be certain,' said Curdie, 'I'll give a half.' For he doubted +the baker as well as the barber. 'Perhaps one day, if he finds he has +asked too much, he will bring me the difference.' +</P> + +<P> +'Ha! ha!' laughed the barber. 'A fool and his money are soon parted.' +</P> + +<P> +But as he took the coin from Curdie's hand he grasped it in affected +reconciliation and real satisfaction. In Curdie's, his was the cold +smooth leathery palm of a monkey. He looked up, almost expecting to +see him pop the money in his cheek; but he had not yet got so far as +that, though he was well on the road to it: then he would have no other +pocket. +</P> + +<P> +'I'm glad that stone is gone, anyhow,' said the baker. 'It was the +bane of my life. I had no idea how easy it was to remove it. Give me +your pickaxes young miner, and I will show you how a baker can make the +stones fly.' +</P> + +<P> +He caught the tool out of Curdie's hand, and flew at one of the +foundation stones of the gateway. But he jarred his arm terribly, +scarcely chipped the stone, dropped the mattock with a cry of pain, and +ran into his own shop. Curdie picked up his implement, and, looking +after the baker, saw bread in the window, and followed him in. But the +baker, ashamed of himself, and thinking he was coming to laugh at him, +popped out of the back door, and when Curdie entered, the baker's wife +came from the bakehouse to serve him. Curdie requested to know the +price of a certain good-sized loaf. +</P> + +<P> +Now the baker's wife had been watching what had passed since first her +husband ran out of the shop, and she liked the look of Curdie. Also she +was more honest than her husband. Casting a glance to the back door, +she replied: +</P> + +<P> +'That is not the best bread. I will sell you a loaf of what we bake +for ourselves.' And when she had spoken she laid a finger on her lips. +'Take care of yourself in this place, MY son,' she added. 'They do not +love strangers. I was once a stranger here, and I know what I say.' +Then fancying she heard her husband, 'That is a strange animal you +have,' she said, in a louder voice. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes,' answered Curdie. 'She is no beauty, but she is very good, and +we love each other. Don't we, Lina?' +</P> + +<P> +Lina looked up and whined. Curdie threw her the half of his loaf, +which she ate, while her master and the baker's wife talked a little. +Then the baker's wife gave them some water, and Curdie having paid for +his loaf, he and Lina went up the street together. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 14 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Dogs of Gwyntystorm +</H3> + +<P> +The steep street led them straight up to a large market place with +butchers' shops, about which were many dogs. The moment they caught +sight of Lina, one and all they came rushing down upon her, giving her +no chance of explaining herself. When Curdie saw the dogs coming he +heaved up his mattock over his shoulder, and was ready, if they would +have it so. Seeing him thus prepared to defend his follower, a great +ugly bulldog flew at him. With the first blow Curdie struck him +through the brain and the brute fell dead at his feet. But he could +not at once recover his weapon, which stuck in the skull of his foe, +and a huge mastiff, seeing him thus hampered, flew at him next. +</P> + +<P> +Now Lina, who had shown herself so brave upon the road thither, had +grown shy upon entering the city, and kept always at Curdie's heel. But +it was her turn now. The moment she saw her master in danger she +seemed to go mad with rage. As the mastiff jumped at Curdie's throat, +Lina flew at him, seized him with her tremendous jaws, gave one roaring +grind, and he lay beside the bulldog with his neck broken. They were +the best dogs in the market, after the judgement of the butchers of +Gwyntystorm. Down came their masters, knives in hand. +</P> + +<P> +Curdie drew himself up fearlessly, mattock on shoulder, and awaited +their coming, while at his heel his awful attendant showed not only her +outside fringe of icicle teeth, but a double row of right serviceable +fangs she wore inside her mouth, and her green eyes flashed yellow as +gold. The butchers, not liking the look of either of them or of the +dogs at their feet, drew back, and began to remonstrate in the manner +of outraged men. +</P> + +<P> +'Stranger,' said the first, 'that bulldog is mine.' +</P> + +<P> +'Take him, then,' said Curdie, indignant. +</P> + +<P> +'You've killed him!' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes—else he would have killed me.' +</P> + +<P> +'That's no business of mine.' +</P> + +<P> +'No?' +</P> + +<P> +'No.' +</P> + +<P> +'That makes it the more mine, then.' +</P> + +<P> +'This sort of thing won't do, you know,' said the other butcher. +</P> + +<P> +'That's true,' said Curdie. 'That's my mastiff,' said the butcher. +</P> + +<P> +'And as he ought to be,' said Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'Your brute shall be burned alive for it,' said the butcher. +</P> + +<P> +'Not yet,' answered Curdie. 'We have done no wrong. We were walking +quietly up your street when your dogs flew at us. If you don't teach +your dogs how to treat strangers, you must take the consequences.' +</P> + +<P> +'They treat them quite properly,' said the butcher. 'What right has +any one to bring an abomination like that into our city? The horror is +enough to make an idiot of every child in the place.' +</P> + +<P> +'We are both subjects of the king, and my poor animal can't help her +looks. How would you like to be served like that because you were +ugly? She's not a bit fonder of her looks than you are—only what can +she do to change them?' +</P> + +<P> +'I'll do to change them,' said the fellow. +</P> + +<P> +Thereupon the butchers brandished their long knives and advanced, +keeping their eyes upon Lina. +</P> + +<P> +'Don't be afraid, Lina,' cried Curdie. 'I'll kill one—you kill the +other.' +</P> + +<P> +Lina gave a howl that might have terrified an army, and crouched ready +to spring. The butchers turned and ran. +</P> + +<P> +By this time a great crowd had gathered behind the butchers, and in it +a number of boys returning from school who began to stone the +strangers. It was a way they had with man or beast they did not expect +to make anything by. One of the stones struck Lina; she caught it in +her teeth and crunched it so that it fell in gravel from her mouth. +Some of the foremost of the crowd saw this, and it terrified them. +They drew back; the rest took fright from their retreat; the panic +spread; and at last the crowd scattered in all directions. They ran, +and cried out, and said the devil and his dam were come to Gwyntystorm. +So Curdie and Lina were left standing unmolested in the market place. +But the terror of them spread throughout the city, and everybody began +to shut and lock his door so that by the time the setting sun shone +down the street, there was not a shop left open, for fear of the devil +and his horrible dam. But all the upper windows within sight of them +were crowded with heads watching them where they stood lonely in the +deserted market place. +</P> + +<P> +Curdie looked carefully all round, but could not see one open door. He +caught sight of the sign of an inn, however, and laying down his +mattock, and telling Lina to take care of it, walked up to the door of +it and knocked. But the people in the house, instead of opening the +door, threw things at him from the windows. They would not listen to a +word he said, but sent him back to Lina with the blood running down his +face. When Lina saw that she leaped up in a fury and was rushing at +the house, into which she would certainly have broken; but Curdie +called her, and made her lie down beside him while he bethought him +what next he should do. +</P> + +<P> +'Lina,' he said, 'the people keep their gates open, but their houses +and their hearts shut.' +</P> + +<P> +As if she knew it was her presence that had brought this trouble upon +him, she rose and went round and round him, purring like a tigress, and +rubbing herself against his legs. +</P> + +<P> +Now there was one little thatched house that stood squeezed in between +two tall gables, and the sides of the two great houses shot out +projecting windows that nearly met across the roof of the little one, +so that it lay in the street like a doll's house. In this house lived +a poor old woman, with a grandchild. And because she never gossiped or +quarrelled, or chaffered in the market, but went without what she could +not afford, the people called her a witch, and would have done her many +an ill turn if they had not been afraid of her. +</P> + +<P> +Now while Curdie was looking in another direction the door opened, and +out came a little dark-haired, black-eyed, gypsy-looking child, and +toddled across the market place toward the outcasts. The moment they +saw her coming, Lina lay down flat on the road, and with her two huge +forepaws covered her mouth, while Curdie went to meet her, holding out +his arms. The little one came straight to him, and held up her mouth +to be kissed. Then she took him by the hand, and drew him toward the +house, and Curdie yielded to the silent invitation. +</P> + +<P> +But when Lina rose to follow, the child shrank from her, frightened a +little. Curdie took her up, and holding her on one arm, patted Lina +with the other hand. Then the child wanted also to pat doggy, as she +called her by a right bountiful stretch of courtesy, and having once +patted her, nothing would serve but Curdie must let her have a ride on +doggy. So he set her on Lina's back, holding her hand, and she rode +home in merry triumph, all unconscious of the hundreds of eyes staring +at her foolhardiness from the windows about the market place, or the +murmur of deep disapproval that rose from as many lips. +</P> + +<P> +At the door stood the grandmother to receive them. She caught the +child to her bosom with delight at her courage, welcomed Curdie, and +showed no dread of Lina. Many were the significant nods exchanged, and +many a one said to another that the devil and the witch were old +friends. But the woman was only a wise woman, who, having seen how +Curdie and Lina behaved to each other, judged from that what sort they +were, and so made them welcome to her house. She was not like her +fellow townspeople, for that they were strangers recommended them to +her. +</P> + +<P> +The moment her door was shut the other doors began to open, and soon +there appeared little groups here and there about a threshold, while a +few of the more courageous ventured out upon the square—all ready to +make for their houses again, however, upon the least sign of movement +in the little thatched one. +</P> + +<P> +The baker and the barber had joined one of these groups, and were +busily wagging their tongues against Curdie and his horrible beast. +</P> + +<P> +'He can't be honest,' said the barber; 'for he paid me double the worth +of the pane he broke in my window.' +</P> + +<P> +And then he told them how Curdie broke his window by breaking a stone +in the street with his hammer. There the baker struck in. +</P> + +<P> +'Now that was the stone,' said he, 'over which I had fallen three times +within the last month: could it be by fair means he broke that to +pieces at the first blow? Just to make up my mind on that point I +tried his own hammer against a stone in the gate; it nearly broke both +my arms, and loosened half the teeth in my head!' +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 15 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Derba and Barbara +</H3> + +<P> +Meantime the wanderers were hospitably entertained by the old woman and +her grandchild and they were all very comfortable and happy together. +Little Barbara sat upon Curdie's knee, and he told her stories about +the mines and his adventures in them. But he never mentioned the king +or the princess, for all that story was hard to believe. And he told +her about his mother and father, and how good they were. And Derba sat +and listened. At last little Barbara fell asleep in Curdie's arms, and +her grandmother carried her to bed. +</P> + +<P> +It was a poor little house, and Derba gave up her own room to Curdie +because he was honest and talked wisely. Curdie saw how it was, and +begged her to allow him to lie on the floor, but she would not hear of +it. +</P> + +<P> +In the night he was waked by Lina pulling at him. As soon as he spoke +to her she ceased, and Curdie, listening, thought he heard someone +trying to get in. He rose, took his mattock, and went about the house, +listening and watching; but although he heard noises now at one place +now at another, he could not think what they meant for no one appeared. +Certainly, considering how she had frightened them all in the day, it +was not likely any one would attack Lina at night. By and by the +noises ceased, and Curdie went back to his bed, and slept undisturbed. +</P> + +<P> +In the morning, however, Derba came to him in great agitation, and said +they had fastened up the door, so that she could not get out. Curdie +rose immediately and went with her: they found that not only the door, +but every window in the house was so secured on the outside that it was +impossible to open one of them without using great force. Poor Derba +looked anxiously in Curdie's face. He broke out laughing. +</P> + +<P> +'They are much mistaken,' he said, 'if they fancy they could keep Lina +and a miner in any house in Gwyntystorm—even if they built up doors +and windows.' +</P> + +<P> +With that he shouldered his mattock. But Derba begged him not to make +a hole in her house just yet. She had plenty for breakfast, she said, +and before it was time for dinner they would know what the people meant +by it. +</P> + +<P> +And indeed they did. For within an hour appeared one of the chief +magistrates of the city, accompanied by a score of soldiers with drawn +swords, and followed by a great multitude of people, requiring the +miner and his brute to yield themselves, the one that he might be tried +for the disturbance he had occasioned and the injury he had committed, +the other that she might be roasted alive for her part in killing two +valuable and harmless animals belonging to worthy citizens. The +summons was preceded and followed by flourish of trumpet, and was read +with every formality by the city marshal himself. +</P> + +<P> +The moment he ended, Lina ran into the little passage, and stood +opposite the door. +</P> + +<P> +'I surrender,' cried Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'Then tie up your brute, and give her here.' +</P> + +<P> +'No, no,' cried Curdie through the door. 'I surrender; but I'm not +going to do your hangman's work. If you want MY dog, you must take +her.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then we shall set the house on fire, and burn witch and all.' +</P> + +<P> +'It will go hard with us but we shall kill a few dozen of you first,' +cried Curdie. 'We're not the least afraid of you.' With that Curdie +turned to Derba, and said: +</P> + +<P> +'Don't be frightened. I have a strong feeling that all will be well. +Surely no trouble will come to you for being good to strangers.' +</P> + +<P> +'But the poor dog!' said Derba. +</P> + +<P> +Now Curdie and Lina understood each other more than a little by this +time, and not only had he seen that she understood the proclamation, +but when she looked up at him after it was read, it was with such a +grin, and such a yellow flash, that he saw also she was determined to +take care of herself. +</P> + +<P> +'The dog will probably give you reason to think a little more of her +ere long,' he answered. 'But now,' he went on, 'I fear I must hurt +your house a little. I have great confidence, however, that I shall be +able to make up to you for it one day.' +</P> + +<P> +'Never mind the house, if only you can get safe off,' she answered. 'I +don't think they will hurt this precious lamb,' she added, clasping +little Barbara to her bosom. 'For myself, it is all one; I am ready +for anything.' +</P> + +<P> +'It is but a little hole for Lina I want to make,' said Curdie. 'She +can creep through a much smaller one than you would think.' +</P> + +<P> +Again he took his mattock, and went to the back wall. +</P> + +<P> +'They won't burn the house,' he said to himself. 'There is too good a +one on each side of it.' +</P> + +<P> +The tumult had kept increasing every moment, and the city marshal had +been shouting, but Curdie had not listened to him. When now they heard +the blows of his mattock, there went up a great cry, and the people +taunted the soldiers that they were afraid of a dog and his miner. The +soldiers therefore made a rush at the door, and cut its fastenings. +</P> + +<P> +The moment they opened it, out leaped Lina, with a roar so unnaturally +horrible that the sword arms of the soldiers dropped by their sides, +paralysed with the terror of that cry; the crowd fled in every +direction, shrieking and yelling with mortal dismay; and without even +knocking down with her tail, not to say biting a man of them with her +pulverizing jaws, Lina vanished—no one knew whither, for not one of +the crowd had had courage to look upon her. +</P> + +<P> +The moment she was gone, Curdie advanced and gave himself up. The +soldiers were so filled with fear, shame, and chagrin, that they were +ready to kill him on the spot. But he stood quietly facing them, with +his mattock on his shoulder; and the magistrate wishing to examine him, +and the people to see him made an example of, the soldiers had to +content themselves with taking him. Partly for derision, partly to +hurt him, they laid his mattock against his back, and tied his arms to +it. +</P> + +<P> +They led him up a very steep street, and up another still, all the +crowd following. The king's palace-castle rose towering above them; +but they stopped before they reached it, at a low-browed door in a +great, dull, heavy-looking building. +</P> + +<P> +The city marshal opened it with a key which hung at his girdle, and +ordered Curdie to enter. The place within was dark as night, and while +he was feeling his way with his feet, the marshal gave him a rough +push. He fell, and rolled once or twice over, unable to help himself +because his hands were tied behind him. +</P> + +<P> +It was the hour of the magistrate's second and more important +breakfast, and until that was over he never found himself capable of +attending to a case with concentration sufficient to the distinguishing +of the side upon which his own advantage lay; and hence was this +respite for Curdie, with time to collect his thoughts. But indeed he +had very few to collect, for all he had to do, so far as he could see, +was to wait for what would come next. Neither had he much power to +collect them, for he was a good deal shaken. +</P> + +<P> +In a few minutes he discovered, to his great relief, that, from the +projection of the pick end of his mattock beyond his body, the fall had +loosened the ropes tied round it. He got one hand disengaged, and then +the other; and presently stood free, with his good mattock once more in +right serviceable relation to his arms and legs. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 16 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Mattock +</H3> + +<P> +While The magistrate reinvigorated his selfishness with a greedy +breakfast, Curdie found doing nothing in the dark rather tiresome work. +It was useless attempting to think what he should do next, seeing the +circumstances in which he was presently to find himself were altogether +unknown to him. So he began to think about his father and mother in +their little cottage home, high in the clear air of the open +Mountainside, and the thought, instead of making his dungeon gloomier +by the contrast, made a light in his soul that destroyed the power of +darkness and captivity. +</P> + +<P> +But he was at length startled from his waking dream by a swell in the +noise outside. All the time there had been a few of the more idle of +the inhabitants about the door, but they had been rather quiet. Now, +however, the sounds of feet and voices began to grow, and grew so +rapidly that it was plain a multitude was gathering. For the people of +Gwyntystorm always gave themselves an hour of pleasure after their +second breakfast, and what greater pleasure could they have than to see +a stranger abused by the officers of justice? +</P> + +<P> +The noise grew till it was like the roaring of the sea, and that +roaring went on a long time, for the magistrate, being a great man, +liked to know that he was waited for: it added to the enjoyment of his +breakfast, and, indeed, enabled him to eat a little more after he had +thought his powers exhausted. +</P> + +<P> +But at length, in the waves of the human noises rose a bigger wave, and +by the running and shouting and outcry, Curdie learned that the +magistrate was approaching. +</P> + +<P> +Presently came the sound of the great rusty key in the lock, which +yielded with groaning reluctance; the door was thrown back, the light +rushed in, and with it came the voice of the city marshal, calling upon +Curdie, by many legal epithets opprobrious, to come forth and be tried +for his life, inasmuch as he had raised a tumult in His Majesty's city +of Gwyntystorm, troubled the hearts of the king's baker and barber, and +slain the faithful dogs of His Majesty's well-beloved butchers. +</P> + +<P> +He was still reading, and Curdie was still seated in the brown twilight +of the vault, not listening, but pondering with himself how this king +the city marshal talked of could be the same with the Majesty he had +seen ride away on his grand white horse with the Princess Irene on a +cushion before him, when a scream of agonized terror arose on the +farthest skirt of the crowd, and, swifter than flood or flame, the +horror spread shrieking. In a moment the air was filled with hideous +howling, cries of unspeakable dismay, and the multitudinous noise of +running feet. The next moment, in at the door of the vault bounded +Lina, her two green eyes flaming yellow as sunflowers, and seeming to +light up the dungeon. With one spring she threw herself at Curdie's +feet, and laid her head upon them panting. Then came a rush of two or +three soldiers darkening the doorway, but it was only to lay hold of +the key, pull the door to, and lock it; so that once more Curdie and +Lina were prisoners together. +</P> + +<P> +For a few moments Lina lay panting hard: it is breathless work leaping +and roaring both at once, and that in a way to scatter thousands of +people. Then she jumped up, and began snuffing about all over the +place; and Curdie saw what he had never seen before—two faint spots of +light cast from her eyes upon the ground, one on each side of her +snuffing nose. He got out his tinder box—a miner is never without +one—and lighted a precious bit of candle he carried in a division of +it just for a moment, for he must not waste it. +</P> + +<P> +The light revealed a vault without any window or other opening than the +door. It was very old and much neglected. The mortar had vanished +from between the stones, and it was half filled with a heap of all +sorts of rubbish, beaten down in the middle, but looser at the sides; +it sloped from the door to the foot of the opposite wall: evidently for +a long time the vault had been left open, and every sort of refuse +thrown into it. A single minute served for the survey, so little was +there to note. +</P> + +<P> +Meantime, down in the angle between the back wall and the base of the +heap Lina was scratching furiously with all the eighteen great strong +claws of her mighty feet. +</P> + +<P> +'Ah, ha!' said Curdie to himself, catching sight of her, 'if only they +will leave us long enough to ourselves!' +</P> + +<P> +With that he ran to the door, to see if there was any fastening on the +inside. There was none: in all its long history it never had had one. +But a few blows of the right sort, now from the one, now from the other +end of his mattock, were as good as any bolt, for they so ruined the +lock that no key could ever turn in it again. Those who heard them +fancied he was trying to get out, and laughed spitefully. As soon as +he had done, he extinguished his candle, and went down to Lina. +</P> + +<P> +She had reached the hard rock which formed the floor of the dungeon, +and was now clearing away the earth a little wider. Presently she +looked up in his face and whined, as much as to say, 'My paws are not +hard enough to get any farther.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then get out of my way, Lina,' said Curdie, and mind you keep your +eyes shining, for fear I should hit you.' +</P> + +<P> +So saying, he heaved his mattock, and assailed with the hammer end of +it the spot she had cleared. +</P> + +<P> +The rock was very hard, but when it did break it broke in good-sized +pieces. Now with hammer, now with pick, he worked till he was weary, +then rested, and then set to again. He could not tell how the day +went, as he had no light but the lamping of Lina's eyes. The darkness +hampered him greatly, for he would not let Lina come close enough to +give him all the light she could, lest he should strike her. So he +had, every now and then, to feel with his hands to know how he was +getting on, and to discover in what direction to strike: the exact spot +was a mere imagination. +</P> + +<P> +He was getting very tired and hungry, and beginning to lose heart a +little, when out of the ground, as if he had struck a spring of it, +burst a dull, gleamy, lead-coloured light, and the next moment he heard +a hollow splash and echo. A piece of rock had fallen out of the floor, +and dropped into water beneath. Already Lina, who had been lying a few +yards off all the time he worked, was on her feet and peering through +the hole. Curdie got down on his hands and knees, and looked. They +were over what seemed a natural cave in the rock, to which apparently +the river had access, for, at a great distance below, a faint light was +gleaming upon water. If they could but reach it, they might get out; +but even if it was deep enough, the height was very dangerous. The +first thing, whatever might follow, was to make the hole larger. It +was comparatively easy to break away the sides of it, and in the course +of another hour he had it large enough to get through. +</P> + +<P> +And now he must reconnoitre. He took the rope they had tied him +with—for Curdie's hindrances were always his furtherance—and fastened +one end of it by a slipknot round the handle of his pickaxes then +dropped the other end through, and laid the pickaxe so that, when he +was through himself, and hanging on the edge, he could place it across +the hole to support him on the rope. This done, he took the rope in +his hands, and, beginning to descend, found himself in a narrow cleft +widening into a cave. His rope was not very long, and would not do +much to lessen the force of his fall—he thought to himself—if he +should have to drop into the water; but he was not more than a couple +of yards below the dungeon when he spied an opening on the opposite +side of the cleft: it might be but a shadow hole, or it might lead them +out. He dropped himself a little below its level, gave the rope a +swing by pushing his feet against the side of the cleft, and so +penduled himself into it. Then he laid a stone on the end of the rope +that it should not forsake him, called to Lina, whose yellow eyes were +gleaming over the mattock grating above, to watch there till he +returned, and went cautiously in. It proved a passage, level for some +distance, then sloping gently up. He advanced carefully, feeling his +way as he went. At length he was stopped by a door—a small door, +studded with iron. But the wood was in places so much decayed that +some of the bolts had dropped out, and he felt sure of being able to +open it. He returned, therefore, to fetch Lina and his mattock. +Arrived at the cleft, his strong miner arms bore him swiftly up along +the rope and through the hole into the dungeon. There he undid the +rope from his mattock, and making Lina take the end of it in her teeth, +and get through the hole, he lowered her—it was all he could do, she +was so heavy. When she came opposite the passage, with a slight push +of her tail she shot herself into it, and let go the rope, which Curdie +drew up. +</P> + +<P> +Then he lighted his candle and searching in the rubbish found a bit of +iron to take the place of his pickaxe across the hole. Then he +searched again in the rubbish, and found half an old shutter. This he +propped up leaning a little over the hole, with a bit of stick, and +heaped against the back of it a quantity of the loosened earth. Next he +tied his mattock to the end of the rope, dropped it, and let it hang. +Last, he got through the hole himself, and pulled away the propping +stick, so that the shutter fell over the hole with a quantity of earth +on the top of it. A few motions of hand over hand, and he swung +himself and his mattock into the passage beside Lina. +</P> + +<P> +There he secured the end of the rope, and they went on together to the +door. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 17 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Wine Cellar +</H3> + +<P> +He lighted his candle and examined it. Decayed and broken as it was, +it was strongly secured in its place by hinges on the one side, and +either lock or bolt, he could not tell which, on the other. A brief +use of his pocket-knife was enough to make room for his hand and arm to +get through, and then he found a great iron bolt—but so rusty that he +could not move it. +</P> + +<P> +Lina whimpered. He took his knife again, made the hole bigger, and +stood back. In she shot her small head and long neck, seized the bolt +with her teeth, and dragged it, grating and complaining, back. A push +then opened the door. It was at the foot of a short flight of steps. +They ascended, and at the top Curdie found himself in a space which, +from the echo to his stamp, appeared of some size, though of what sort +he could not at first tell, for his hands, feeling about, came upon +nothing. Presently, however, they fell on a great thing: it was a wine +cask. +</P> + +<P> +He was just setting out to explore the place thoroughly, when he heard +steps coming down a stair. He stood still, not knowing whether the +door would open an inch from his nose or twenty yards behind his back. +It did neither. He heard the key turn in the lock, and a stream of +light shot in, ruining the darkness, about fifteen yards away on his +right. +</P> + +<P> +A man carrying a candle in one hand and a large silver flagon in the +other, entered, and came toward him. The light revealed a row of huge +wine casks, that stretched away into the darkness of the other end of +the long vault. Curdie retreated into the recess of the stair, and +peeping round the corner of it, watched him, thinking what he could do +to prevent him from locking them in. He came on and on, until curdie +feared he would pass the recess and see them. He was just preparing to +rush out, and master him before he should give alarm, not in the least +knowing what he should do next, when, to his relief, the man stopped at +the third cask from where he stood. He set down his light on the top +of it, removed what seemed a large vent-peg, and poured into the cask a +quantity of something from the flagon. Then he turned to the next +cask, drew some wine, rinsed the flagon, threw the wine away, drew and +rinsed and threw away again, then drew and drank, draining to the +bottom. Last of all, he filled the flagon from the cask he had first +visited, replaced then the vent-peg, took up his candle, and turned +toward the door. +</P> + +<P> +'There is something wrong here!' thought Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'Speak to him, Lina,' he whispered. +</P> + +<P> +The sudden howl she gave made Curdie himself start and tremble for a +moment. As to the man, he answered Lina's with another horrible howl, +forced from him by the convulsive shudder of every muscle of his body, +then reeled gasping to and fro, and dropped his candle. But just as +Curdie expected to see him fall dead he recovered himself, and flew to +the door, through which he darted, leaving it open behind him. The +moment he ran, Curdie stepped out, picked up the candle still alight, +sped after him to the door, drew out the key, and then returned to the +stair and waited. In a few minutes he heard the sound of many feet and +voices. Instantly he turned the tap of the cask from which the man had +been drinking, set the candle beside it on the floor, went down the +steps and out of the little door, followed by Lina, and closed it +behind them. +</P> + +<P> +Through the hole in it he could see a little, and hear all. He could +see how the light of many candles filled the place, and could hear how +some two dozen feet ran hither and thither through the echoing cellar; +he could hear the clash of iron, probably spits and pokers, now and +then; and at last heard how, finding nothing remarkable except the best +wine running to waste, they all turned on the butler and accused him of +having fooled them with a drunken dream. He did his best to defend +himself, appealing to the evidence of their own senses that he was as +sober as they were. They replied that a fright was no less a fright +that the cause was imaginary, and a dream no less a dream that the +fright had waked him from it. +</P> + +<P> +When he discovered, and triumphantly adduced as corroboration, that the +key was gone from the door, they said it merely showed how drunk he had +been—either that or how frightened, for he had certainly dropped it. +In vain he protested that he had never taken it out of the lock—that +he never did when he went in, and certainly had not this time stopped +to do so when he came out; they asked him why he had to go to the +cellar at such a time of the day, and said it was because he had +already drunk all the wine that was left from dinner. He said if he +had dropped the key, the key was to be found, and they must help him to +find it. They told him they wouldn't move a peg for him. He declared, +with much language, he would have them all turned out of the king's +service. They said they would swear he was drunk. +</P> + +<P> +And so positive were they about it, that at last the butler himself +began to think whether it was possible they could be in the right. For +he knew that sometimes when he had been drunk he fancied things had +taken place which he found afterward could not have happened. Certain +of his fellow servants, however, had all the time a doubt whether the +cellar goblin had not appeared to him, or at least roared at him, to +protect the wine. In any case nobody wanted to find the key for him; +nothing could please them better than that the door of the wine cellar +should never more be locked. By degrees the hubbub died away, and they +departed, not even pulling to the door, for there was neither handle +nor latch to it. +</P> + +<P> +As soon as they were gone, Curdie returned, knowing now that they were +in the wine cellar of the palace, as indeed, he had suspected. Finding +a pool of wine in a hollow of the floor, Lina lapped it up eagerly: she +had had no breakfast, and was now very thirsty as well as hungry. Her +master was in a similar plight, for he had but just begun to eat when +the magistrate arrived with the soldiers. If only they were all in +bed, he thought, that he might find his way to the larder! For he said +to himself that, as he was sent there by the young princess's +great-great-grandmother to serve her or her father in some way, surely +he must have a right to his food in the Palace, without which he could +do nothing. He would go at once and reconnoitre. +</P> + +<P> +So he crept up the stair that led from the cellar. At the top was a +door, opening on a long passage dimly lighted by a lamp. He told Lina +to lie down upon the stair while he went on. At the end of the passage +he found a door ajar, and, peering through, saw right into a great +stone hall, where a huge fire was blazing, and through which men in the +king's livery were constantly coming and going. Some also in the same +livery were lounging about the fire. He noted that their colours were +the same as those he himself, as king's miner, wore; but from what he +had seen and heard of the habits of the place, he could not hope they +would treat him the better for that. +</P> + +<P> +The one interesting thing at the moment, however, was the plentiful +supper with which the table was spread. It was something at least to +stand in sight of food, and he was unwilling to turn his back on the +prospect so long as a share in it was not absolutely hopeless. Peeping +thus, he soon made UP his mind that if at any moment the hall should be +empty, he would at that moment rush in and attempt to carry off a dish. +That he might lose no time by indecision, he selected a large pie upon +which to pounce instantaneously. But after he had watched for some +minutes, it did not seem at all likely the chance would arrive before +suppertime, and he was just about to turn away and rejoin Lina, when he +saw that there was not a person in the place. Curdie never made up his +mind and then hesitated. He darted in, seized the pie, and bore it +swiftly and noiselessly to the cellar stair. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 18 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The King's Kitchen +</H3> + +<P> +Back to the cellar Curdie and Lina sped with their booty, where, seated +on the steps, Curdie lighted his bit of candle for a moment. A very +little bit it was now, but they did not waste much of it in examination +of the pie; that they effected by a more summary process. Curdie +thought it the nicest food he had ever tasted, and between them they +soon ate it up. Then Curdie would have thrown the dish along with the +bones into the water, that there might be no traces of them; but he +thought of his mother, and hid it instead; and the very next minute +they wanted it to draw some wine into. He was careful it should be +from the cask of which he had seen the butler drink. +</P> + +<P> +Then they sat down again upon the steps, and waited until the house +should be quiet. For he was there to do something, and if it did not +come to him in the cellar, he must go to meet it in other places. +Therefore, lest he should fall asleep, he set the end of the helve of +his mattock on the ground, and seated himself on the cross part, +leaning against the wall, so that as long as he kept awake he should +rest, but the moment he began to fall asleep he must fall awake +instead. He quite expected some of the servants would visit the cellar +again that night, but whether it was that they were afraid of each +other, or believed more of the butler's story than they had chosen to +allow, not one of them appeared. +</P> + +<P> +When at length he thought he might venture, he shouldered his mattock +and crept up the stair. The lamp was out in the passage, but he could +not miss his way to the servants' hall. Trusting to Lina's quickness +in concealing herself, he took her with him. +</P> + +<P> +When they reached the hall they found it quiet and nearly dark. The +last of the great fire was glowing red, but giving little light. +Curdie stood and warmed himself for a few moments: miner as he was, he +had found the cellar cold to sit in doing nothing; and standing thus he +thought of looking if there were any bits of candle about. There were +many candlesticks on the supper table, but to his disappointment and +indignation their candles seemed to have been all left to burn out, and +some of them, indeed, he found still hot in the neck. +</P> + +<P> +Presently, one after another, he came upon seven men fast asleep, most +of them upon tables, one in a chair, and one on the floor. They seemed, +from their shape and colour, to have eaten and drunk so much that they +might be burned alive without wakening. He grasped the hand of each in +succession, and found two ox hoofs, three pig hoofs, one concerning +which he could not be sure whether it was the hoof of a donkey or a +pony, and one dog's paw. 'A nice set of people to be about a king!' +thought Curdie to himself, and turned again to his candle hunt. He did +at last find two or three little pieces, and stowed them away in his +pockets. They now left the hall by another door, and entered a short +passage, which led them to the huge kitchen, vaulted and black with +smoke. There, too, the fire was still burning, so that he was able to +see a little of the state of things in this quarter also. +</P> + +<P> +The place was dirty and disorderly. In a recess, on a heap of +brushwood, lay a kitchen-maid, with a table cover around her, and a +skillet in her hand: evidently she too had been drinking. In another +corner lay a page, and Curdie noted how like his dress was to his own. +In the cinders before the hearth were huddled three dogs and five cats, +all fast asleep, while the rats were running about the floor. Curdie's +heart ached to think of the lovely child-princess living over such a +sty. The mine was a paradise to a palace with such servants in it. +</P> + +<P> +Leaving the kitchen, he got into the region of the sculleries. There +horrible smells were wandering about, like evil spirits that come forth +with the darkness. He lighted a candle—but only to see ugly sights. +Everywhere was filth and disorder. Mangy turnspit dogs were lying +about, and grey rats were gnawing at refuse in the sinks. It was like +a hideous dream. He felt as if he should never get out of it, and +longed for one glimpse of his mother's poor little kitchen, so clean +and bright and airy. Turning from it at last in miserable disgust, he +almost ran back through the kitchen, re-entered the hall, and crossed +it to another door. +</P> + +<P> +It opened upon a wider passage leading to an arch in a stately +corridor, all its length lighted by lamps in niches. At the end of it +was a large and beautiful hall, with great pillars. There sat three +men in the royal livery, fast asleep, each in a great armchair, with +his feet on a huge footstool. They looked like fools dreaming +themselves kings; and Lina looked as if she longed to throttle them. +At one side of the hall was the grand staircase, and they went up. +</P> + +<P> +Everything that now met Curdie's eyes was rich—not glorious like the +splendours of the mountain cavern, but rich and soft—except where, now +and then, some rough old rib of the ancient fortress came through, hard +and discoloured. Now some dark bare arch of stone, now some rugged and +blackened pillar, now some huge beam, brown with the smoke and dust of +centuries, looked like a thistle in the midst of daisies, or a rock in +a smooth lawn. +</P> + +<P> +They wandered about a good while, again and again finding themselves +where they had been before. Gradually, however, Curdie was gaining +some idea of the place. By and by Lina began to look frightened, and +as they went on Curdie saw that she looked more and more frightened. +Now, by this time he had come to understand that what made her look +frightened was always the fear of frightening, and he therefore +concluded they must be drawing nigh to somebody. +</P> + +<P> +At last, in a gorgeously painted gallery, he saw a curtain of crimson, +and on the curtain a royal crown wrought in silks and stones. He felt +sure this must be the king's chamber, and it was here he was wanted; +or, if it was not the place he was bound for, something would meet him +and turn him aside; for he had come to think that so long as a man +wants to do right he may go where he can: when he can go no farther, +then it is not the way. 'Only,' said his father, in assenting to the +theory, 'he must really want to do right, and not merely fancy he does. +He must want it with his heart and will, and not with his rag of a +tongue.' +</P> + +<P> +So he gently lifted the corner of the curtain, and there behind it was +a half-open door. He entered, and the moment he was in, Lina stretched +herself along the threshold between the curtain and the door. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 19 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The King's Chamber +</H3> + +<P> +He found himself in a large room, dimly lighted by a silver lamp that +hung from the ceiling. Far at the other end was a great bed, +surrounded with dark heavy curtains. He went softly toward it, his +heart beating fast. It was a dreadful thing to be alone in the king's +chamber at the dead of night. To gain courage he had to remind himself +of the beautiful princess who had sent him. +</P> + +<P> +But when he was about halfway to the bed, a figure appeared from the +farther side of it, and came towards him, with a hand raised warningly. +He stood still. The light was dim, and he could distinguish little +more than the outline of a young girl. But though the form he saw was +much taller than the princess he remembered, he never doubted it was +she. For one thing, he knew that most girls would have been frightened +to see him there in the dead of the night, but like a true princess, +and the princess he used to know, she walked straight on to meet him. +As she came she lowered the hand she had lifted, and laid the +forefinger of it upon her lips. Nearer and nearer, quite near, close +up to him she came, then stopped, and stood a moment looking at him. +</P> + +<P> +'You are Curdie,' she said. +</P> + +<P> +'And you are the Princess Irene,' he returned. +</P> + +<P> +'Then we know each other still,' she said, with a sad smile of +pleasure. 'You will help me.' +</P> + +<P> +'That I will,' answered Curdie. He did not say, 'If I can'; for he +knew that what he was sent to do, that he could do. 'May I kiss your +hand, little Princess?' +</P> + +<P> +She was only between nine and ten, though indeed she looked several +years older, and her eyes almost those of a grown woman, for she had +had terrible trouble of late. +</P> + +<P> +She held out her hand. +</P> + +<P> +'I am not the little princess any more. I have grown up since I saw +you last, Mr Miner.' +</P> + +<P> +The smile which accompanied the words had in it a strange mixture of +playfulness and sadness. +</P> + +<P> +'So I see, Miss Princess,' returned Curdie; 'and therefore, being more +of a princess, you are the more my princess. Here I am, sent by your +great-great-grandmother, to be your servant. May I ask why you are up +so late, Princess?' +</P> + +<P> +'Because my father wakes so frightened, and I don't know what he would +do if he didn't find me by his bedside. There! he's waking now.' +</P> + +<P> +She darted off to the side of the bed she had come from. +</P> + +<P> +Curdie stood where he was. +</P> + +<P> +A voice altogether unlike what he remembered of the mighty, noble king +on his white horse came from the bed, thin, feeble, hollow, and husky, +and in tone like that of a petulant child: +</P> + +<P> +'I will not, I will not. I am a king, and I will be a king. I hate +you and despise you, and you shall not torture me!' +</P> + +<P> +'Never mind them, Father dear,' said the princess. 'I am here, and +they shan't touch you. They dare not, you know, so long as you defy +them.' +</P> + +<P> +'They want my crown, darling; and I can't give them my crown, can I? +For what is a king without his crown?' +</P> + +<P> +'They shall never have your crown, my king,' said Irene. 'Here it +is—all safe. I am watching it for you.' +</P> + +<P> +Curdie drew near the bed on the other side. There lay the grand old +king—he looked grand still, and twenty years older. His body was +pillowed high; his beard descended long and white over the crimson +coverlid; and his crown, its diamonds and emeralds gleaming in the +twilight of the curtains, lay in front of him, his long thin old hands +folded round it, and the ends of his beard straying among the lovely +stones. His face was like that of a man who had died fighting nobly; +but one thing made it dreadful: his eyes, while they moved about as if +searching in this direction and in that, looked more dead than his +face. He saw neither his daughter nor his crown: it was the voice of +the one and the touch of the other that comforted him. He kept +murmuring what seemed words, but was unintelligible to Curdie, +although, to judge from the look of Irene's face, she learned and +concluded from it. +</P> + +<P> +By degrees his voice sank away and the murmuring ceased, although still +his lips moved. Thus lay the old king on his bed, slumbering with his +crown between his hands; on one side of him stood a lovely little +maiden, with blue eyes, and brown hair going a little back from her +temples, as if blown by a wind that no one felt but herself; and on the +other a stalwart young miner, with his mattock over his shoulder. +Stranger sight still was Lina lying along the threshold—only nobody +saw her just then. +</P> + +<P> +A moment more and the king's lips ceased to move. His breathing had +grown regular and quiet. The princess gave a sigh of relief, and came +round to Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'We can talk a little now,' she said, leading him toward the middle of +the room. 'My father will sleep now till the doctor wakes him to give +him his medicine. It is not really medicine, though, but wine. +Nothing but that, the doctor says, could have kept him so long alive. +He always comes in the middle of the night to give it him with his own +hands. But it makes me cry to see him wake up when so nicely asleep.' +</P> + +<P> +'What sort of man is your doctor?' asked Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, such a dear, good, kind gentleman!' replied the princess. 'He +speaks so softly, and is so sorry for his dear king! He will be here +presently, and you shall see for yourself. You will like him very +much.' +</P> + +<P> +'Has your king-father been long ill?' asked Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'A whole year now,' she replied. 'Did you not know? That's how your +mother never got the red petticoat my father promised her. The lord +chancellor told me that not only Gwyntystorm but the whole land was +mourning over the illness of the good man.' +</P> + +<P> +Now Curdie himself had not heard a word of His Majesty's illness, and +had no ground for believing that a single soul in any place he had +visited on his journey had heard of it. Moreover, although mention had +been made of His Majesty again and again in his hearing since he came +to Gwyntystorm, never once had he heard an allusion to the state of his +health. And now it dawned upon him also that he had never heard the +least expression of love to him. But just for the time he thought it +better to say nothing on either point. +</P> + +<P> +'Does the king wander like this every night?' he asked. +</P> + +<P> +'Every night,' answered Irene, shaking her head mournfully. 'That is +why I never go to bed at night. He is better during the day—a little, +and then I sleep—in the dressing room there, to be with him in a +moment if he should call me. It is so sad he should have only me and +not my mamma! A princess is nothing to a queen!' +</P> + +<P> +'I wish he would like me,' said Curdie, 'for then I might watch by him +at night, and let you go to bed, Princess.' +</P> + +<P> +'Don't you know then?' returned Irene, in wonder. 'How was it you +came? Ah! You said my grandmother sent you. But I thought you knew +that he wanted you.' +</P> + +<P> +And again she opened wide her blue stars. +</P> + +<P> +'Not I,' said Curdie, also bewildered, but very glad. +</P> + +<P> +'He used to be constantly saying—he was not so ill then as he is +now—that he wished he had you about him.' +</P> + +<P> +'And I never to know it!' said Curdie, with displeasure. +</P> + +<P> +'The master of the horse told papa's own secretary that he had written +to the miner-general to find you and send you up; but the miner-general +wrote back to the master of the horse, and he told the secretary, and +the secretary told my father, that they had searched every mine in the +kingdom and could hear nothing of you. My father gave a great sigh, and +said he feared the goblins had got you, after all, and your father and +mother were dead of grief. And he has never mentioned you since, +except when wandering. I cried very much. But one of my grandmother's +pigeons with its white wing flashed a message to me through the window +one day, and then I knew that my Curdie wasn't eaten by the goblins, +for my grandmother wouldn't have taken care of him one time to let him +be eaten the next. Where were you, Curdie, that they couldn't find +you?' +</P> + +<P> +'We will talk about that another time, when we are not expecting the +doctor,' said Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +As he spoke, his eyes fell upon something shining on the table under +the lamp. His heart gave a great throb, and he went nearer. Yes, there +could be no doubt—it was the same flagon that the butler had filled in +the wine cellar. +</P> + +<P> +'It looks worse and worse!'he said to himself, and went back to Irene, +where she stood half dreaming. +</P> + +<P> +'When will the doctor be here?' he asked once more—this time hurriedly. +</P> + +<P> +The question was answered—not by the princess, but by something which +that instant tumbled heavily into the room. Curdie flew toward it in +vague terror about Lina. +</P> + +<P> +On the floor lay a little round man, puffing and blowing, and uttering +incoherent language. Curdie thought of his mattock, and ran and laid +it aside. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, dear Dr Kelman!' cried the princess, running up and taking hold of +his arm; 'I am so sorry!' She pulled and pulled, but might almost as +well have tried to set up a cannon ball. 'I hope you have not hurt +yourself?' +</P> + +<P> +'Not at all, not at all,' said the doctor, trying to smile and to rise +both at once, but finding it impossible to do either. +</P> + +<P> +'If he slept on the floor he would be late for breakfast,' said Curdie +to himself, and held out his hand to help him. +</P> + +<P> +But when he took hold of it, Curdie very nearly let him fall again, for +what he held was not even a foot: it was the belly of a creeping thing. +He managed, however, to hold both his peace and his grasp, and pulled +the doctor roughly on his legs—such as they were. +</P> + +<P> +'Your Royal Highness has rather a thick mat at the door,' said the +doctor, patting his palms together. 'I hope my awkwardness may not +have startled His Majesty.' +</P> + +<P> +While he talked Curdie went to the door: Lina was not there. +</P> + +<P> +The doctor approached the bed. +</P> + +<P> +'And how has my beloved king slept tonight?' he asked. +</P> + +<P> +'No better,' answered Irene, with a mournful shake of her head. +</P> + +<P> +'Ah, that is very well!' returned the doctor, his fall seeming to have +muddled either his words or his meaning. 'When we give him his wine, +he will be better still.' +</P> + +<P> +Curdie darted at the flagon, and lifted it high, as if he had expected +to find it full, but had found it empty. +</P> + +<P> +'That stupid butler! I heard them say he was drunk!' he cried in a +loud whisper, and was gliding from the room. +</P> + +<P> +'Come here with that flagon, you! Page!' cried the doctor. Curdie came +a few steps toward him with the flagon dangling from his hand, heedless +of the gushes that fell noiseless on the thick carpet. +</P> + +<P> +'Are you aware, young man,' said the doctor, 'that it is not every wine +can do His Majesty the benefit I intend he should derive from my +prescription?' +</P> + +<P> +'Quite aware, sir, answered Curdie. 'The wine for His Majesty's use is +in the third cask from the corner.' +</P> + +<P> +'Fly, then,' said the doctor, looking satisfied. +</P> + +<P> +Curdie stopped outside the curtain and blew an audible breath—no more; +up came Lina noiseless as a shadow. He showed her the flagon. +</P> + +<P> +'The cellar, Lina: go,' he said. +</P> + +<P> +She galloped away on her soft feet, and Curdie had indeed to fly to +keep up with her. Not once did she make even a dubious turn. From the +king's gorgeous chamber to the cold cellar they shot. Curdie dashed +the wine down the back stair, rinsed the flagon out as he had seen the +butler do, filled it from the cask of which he had seen the butler +drink, and hastened with it up again to the king's room. +</P> + +<P> +The little doctor took it, poured out a full glass, smelt, but did not +taste it, and set it down. Then he leaned over the bed, shouted in the +king's ear, blew upon his eyes, and pinched his arm: Curdie thought he +saw him run something bright into it. At last the king half woke. The +doctor seized the glass, raised his head, poured the wine down his +throat, and let his head fall back on the pillow again. Tenderly +wiping his beard, and bidding the princess good night in paternal +tones, he then took his leave. Curdie would gladly have driven his +pick into his head, but that was not in his commission, and he let him +go. The little round man looked very carefully to his feet as he +crossed the threshold. +</P> + +<P> +'That attentive fellow of a page has removed the mat,' he said to +himself, as he walked along the corridor. 'I must remember him.' +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 20 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Counterplotting +</H3> + +<P> +Curdie was already sufficiently enlightened as to how things were +going, to see that he must have the princess of one mind with him, and +they must work together. It was clear that among those about the king +there was a plot against him: for one thing, they had agreed in a lie +concerning himself; and it was plain also that the doctor was working +out a design against the health and reason of His Majesty, rendering +the question of his life a matter of little moment. It was in itself +sufficient to justify the worst fears, that the people outside the +palace were ignorant of His Majesty's condition: he believed those +inside it also—the butler excepted—were ignorant of it as well. +Doubtless His Majesty's councillors desired to alienate the hearts of +his subjects from their sovereign. Curdie's idea was that they +intended to kill the king, marry the princess to one of themselves, and +found a new dynasty; but whatever their purpose, there was treason in +the palace of the worst sort: they were making and keeping the king +incapable, in order to effect that purpose. The first thing to be seen +to, therefore, was that His Majesty should neither eat morsel nor drink +drop of anything prepared for him in the palace. Could this have been +managed without the princess, Curdie would have preferred leaving her +in ignorance of the horrors from which he sought to deliver her. He +feared also the danger of her knowledge betraying itself to the evil +eyes about her; but it must be risked and she had always been a wise +child. +</P> + +<P> +Another thing was clear to him—that with such traitors no terms of +honour were either binding or possible, and that, short of lying, he +might use any means to foil them. And he could not doubt that the old +princess had sent him expressly to frustrate their plans. +</P> + +<P> +While he stood thinking thus with himself, the princess was earnestly +watching the king, with looks of childish love and womanly tenderness +that went to Curdie's heart. Now and then with a great fan of peacock +feathers she would fan him very softly; now and then, seeing a cloud +begin to gather upon the sky of his sleeping face, she would climb upon +the bed, and bending to his ear whisper into it, then draw back and +watch again—generally to see the cloud disperse. In his deepest +slumber, the soul of the king lay open to the voice of his child, and +that voice had power either to change the aspect of his visions, or, +which was better still, to breathe hope into his heart, and courage to +endure them. +</P> + +<P> +Curdie came near, and softly called her. +</P> + +<P> +'I can't leave Papa just yet,' she returned, in a low voice. +</P> + +<P> +'I will wait,' said Curdie; 'but I want very much to say something.' +</P> + +<P> +In a few minutes she came to him where he stood under the lamp. +</P> + +<P> +'Well, Curdie, what is it?' she said. +</P> + +<P> +'Princess,' he replied, 'I want to tell you that I have found why your +grandmother sent me.' +</P> + +<P> +'Come this way, then, she answered, 'where I can see the face of my +king.' +</P> + +<P> +Curdie placed a chair for her in the spot she chose, where she would be +near enough to mark any slightest change on her father's countenance, +yet where their low-voiced talk would not disturb him. There he sat +down beside her and told her all the story—how her grandmother had +sent her good pigeon for him, and how she had instructed him, and sent +him there without telling him what he had to do. Then he told her what +he had discovered of the state of things generally in Gwyntystorm, and +especially what he had heard and seen in the palace that night. +</P> + +<P> +'Things are in a bad state enough,' he said in conclusion—'lying and +selfishness and inhospitality and dishonesty everywhere; and to crown +all, they speak with disrespect of the good king, and not a man knows +he is ill.' +</P> + +<P> +'You frighten me dreadfully,' said Irene, trembling. +</P> + +<P> +'You must be brave for your king's sake,' said Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'Indeed I will,' she replied, and turned a long loving look upon the +beautiful face of her father. 'But what is to be done? And how am I +to believe such horrible things of Dr Kelman?' +</P> + +<P> +'My dear Princess,' replied Curdie, 'you know nothing of him but his +face and his tongue, and they are both false. Either you must beware +of him, or you must doubt your grandmother and me; for I tell you, by +the gift she gave me of testing hands, that this man is a snake. That +round body he shows is but the case of a serpent. Perhaps the creature +lies there, as in its nest, coiled round and round inside.' +</P> + +<P> +'Horrible!' said Irene. +</P> + +<P> +'Horrible indeed; but we must not try to get rid of horrible things by +refusing to look at them, and saying they are not there. Is not your +beautiful father sleeping better since he had the wine?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes.' +</P> + +<P> +'Does he always sleep better after having it?' +</P> + +<P> +She reflected an instant. +</P> + +<P> +'No; always worse—till tonight,' she answered. +</P> + +<P> +'Then remember that was the wine I got him—not what the butler drew. +Nothing that passes through any hand in the house except yours or mine +must henceforth, till he is well, reach His Majesty's lips.' +</P> + +<P> +'But how, dear Curdie?' said the princess, almost crying. +</P> + +<P> +'That we must contrive,' answered Curdie. 'I know how to take care of +the wine; but for his food—now we must think.' +</P> + +<P> +'He takes hardly any,' said the princess, with a pathetic shake of her +little head which Curdie had almost learned to look for. +</P> + +<P> +'The more need,' he replied, 'there should be no poison in it.' Irene +shuddered. 'As soon as he has honest food he will begin to grow +better. And you must be just as careful with yourself, Princess,' +Curdie went on, 'for you don't know when they may begin to poison you, +too.' +</P> + +<P> +'There's no fear of me; don't talk about me,' said Irene. 'The good +food! How are we to get it, Curdie? That is the whole question.' +</P> + +<P> +'I am thinking hard,' answered Curdie. 'The good food? Let me +see—let me see! Such servants as I saw below are sure to have the +best of everything for themselves: I will go an see what I can find on +their table.' +</P> + +<P> +'The chancellor sleeps in the house, and he and the master of the +king's horse always have their supper together in a room off the great +hall, to the right as you go down the stairs,' said Irene. 'I would go +with you, but I dare not leave my father. Alas! He scarcely ever +takes more than a mouthful. I can't think how he lives! And the very +thing he would like, and often asks for—a bit of bread—I can hardly +ever get for him: Dr Kelman has forbidden it, and says it is nothing +less than poison to him.' +</P> + +<P> +'Bread at least he shall have,' said Curdie; 'and that, with the honest +wine, will do as well as anything, I do believe. I will go at once and +look for some. But I want you to see Lina first, and know her, lest, +coming upon her by accident at any time, you should be frightened.' +</P> + +<P> +'I should like much to see her,' said the princess. +</P> + +<P> +Warning her not to be startled by her ugliness, he went to the door and +called her. +</P> + +<P> +She entered, creeping with downcast head, and dragging her tail over +the floor behind her. Curdie watched the princess as the frightful +creature came nearer and nearer. One shudder went from head to foot, +and next instant she stepped to meet her. Lina dropped flat on the +floor, and covered her face with her two big paws. It went to the +heart of the princess: in a moment she was on her knees beside her, +stroking her ugly head, and patting her all over. +</P> + +<P> +'Good dog! Dear ugly dog!' she said. +</P> + +<P> +Lina whimpered. +</P> + +<P> +'I believe,' said Curdie, 'from what your grandmother told me, that +Lina is a woman, and that she was naughty, but is now growing good.' +</P> + +<P> +Lina had lifted her head while Irene was caressing her; now she dropped +it again between her paws; but the princess took it in her hands, and +kissed the forehead betwixt the gold-green eyes. +</P> + +<P> +'Shall I take her with me or leave her?' asked Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'Leave her, poor dear,' said Irene, and Curdie, knowing the way now, +went without her. +</P> + +<P> +He took his way first to the room the princess had spoken of, and there +also were the remains of supper; but neither there nor in the kitchen +could he find a scrap of plain wholesome-looking bread. So he returned +and told her that as soon as it was light he would go into the city for +some, and asked her for a handkerchief to tie it in. If he could not +bring it himself, he would send it by Lina, who could keep out of sight +better than he, and as soon as all was quiet at night he would come to +her again. He also asked her to tell the king that he was in the +house. His hope lay in the fact that bakers everywhere go to work +early. But it was yet much too early. So he persuaded the princess to +lie down, promising to call her if the king should stir. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap21"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 21 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Loaf +</H3> + +<P> +His Majesty slept very quietly. The dawn had grown almost day, and +still Curdie lingered, unwilling to disturb the princess. +</P> + +<P> +At last, however, he called her, and she was in the room in a moment. +She had slept, she said, and felt quite fresh. Delighted to find her +father still asleep, and so peacefully, she pushed her chair close to +the bed, and sat down with her hands in her lap. +</P> + +<P> +Curdie got his mattock from where he had hidden it behind a great +mirror, and went to the cellar, followed by Lina. They took some +breakfast with them as they passed through the hall, and as soon as +they had eaten it went out the back way. +</P> + +<P> +At the mouth of the passage Curdie seized the rope, drew himself up, +pushed away the shutter, and entered the dungeon. Then he swung the +end of the rope to Lina, and she caught it in her teeth. When her +master said, 'Now, Lina!' she gave a great spring, and he ran away with +the end of the rope as fast as ever he could. And such a spring had +she made, that by the time he had to bear her weight she was within a +few feet of the hole. The instant she got a paw through, she was all +through. +</P> + +<P> +Apparently their enemies were waiting till hunger should have cowed +them, for there was no sign of any attempt having been made to open the +door. A blow or two of Curdie's mattock drove the shattered lock clean +from it, and telling Lina to wait there till he came back, and let no +one in, he walked out into the silent street, and drew the door to +behind them. He could hardly believe it was not yet a whole day since +he had been thrown in there with his hands tied at his back. +</P> + +<P> +Down the town he went, walking in the middle of the street, that, if +any one saw him, he might see he was not afraid, and hesitate to rouse +an attack on him. As to the dogs, ever since the death of their two +companions, a shadow that looked like a mattock was enough to make them +scamper. As soon as he reached the archway of the city gate he turned +to reconnoitre the baker's shop, and perceiving no sign of movement, +waited there watching for the first. +</P> + +<P> +After about an hour, the door opened, and the baker's man appeared with +a pail in his hand. He went to a pump that stood in the street, and +having filled his pail returned with it into the shop. Curdie stole +after him, found the door on the latch, opened it very gently, peeped +in, saw nobody, and entered. Remembering perfectly from what shelf the +baker's wife had taken the loaf she said was the best, and seeing just +one upon it, he seized it, laid the price of it on the counter, and +sped softly out, and up the street. Once more in the dungeon beside +Lina, his first thought was to fasten up the door again, which would +have been easy, so many iron fragments of all sorts and sizes lay +about; but he bethought himself that if he left it as it was, and they +came to find him, they would conclude at once that they had made their +escape by it, and would look no farther so as to discover the hole. He +therefore merely pushed the door close and left it. Then once more +carefully arranging the earth behind the shutter, so that it should +again fall with it, he returned to the cellar. +</P> + +<P> +And now he had to convey the loaf to the princess. If he could venture +to take it himself, well; if not, he would send Lina. He crept to the +door of the servants' hall, and found the sleepers beginning to stir. +One said it was time to go to bed; another, that he would go to the +cellar instead, and have a mug of wine to waken him up; while a third +challenged a fourth to give him his revenge at some game or other. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, hang your losses!' answered his companion; 'you'll soon pick up +twice as much about the house, if you but keep your eyes open.' +</P> + +<P> +Perceiving there would be risk in attempting to pass through, and +reflecting that the porters in the great hall would probably be awake +also, Curdie went back to the cellar, took Irene's handkerchief with +the loaf in it, tied it round Lina's neck, and told her to take it to +the princess. +</P> + +<P> +Using every shadow and every shelter, Lina slid through the servants +like a shapeless terror through a guilty mind, and so, by corridor and +great hall, up the stair to the king's chamber. +</P> + +<P> +Irene trembled a little when she saw her glide soundless in across the +silent dusk of the morning, that filtered through the heavy drapery of +the windows, but she recovered herself at once when she saw the bundle +about her neck, for it both assured her of Curdie's safety, and gave +her hope of her father's. She untied it with joy, and Lina stole away, +silent as she had come. Her joy was the greater that the king had +waked up a little before, and expressed a desire for food—not that he +felt exactly hungry, he said, and yet he wanted something. If only he +might have a piece of nice fresh bread! Irene had no knife, but with +eager hands she broke a great piece from the loaf, and poured out a +full glass of wine. The king ate and drank, enjoyed the bread and the +wine much, and instantly fell asleep again. +</P> + +<P> +It was hours before the lazy people brought their breakfast. When it +came, Irene crumbled a little about, threw some into the fireplace, and +managed to make the tray look just as usual. +</P> + +<P> +In the meantime, down below in the cellar, Curdie was lying in the +hollow between the upper sides of two of the great casks, the warmest +place he could find. Lina was watching. She lay at his feet, across +the two casks, and did her best so to arrange her huge tail that it +should be a warm coverlid for her master. +</P> + +<P> +By and by Dr Kelman called to see his patient; and now that Irene's +eyes were opened, she saw clearly enough that he was both annoyed and +puzzled at finding His Majesty rather better. He pretended however to +congratulate him, saying he believed he was quite fit to see the lord +chamberlain: he wanted his signature to something important; only he +must not strain his mind to understand it, whatever it might be: if His +Majesty did, he would not be answerable for the consequences. The king +said he would see the lord chamberlain, and the doctor went. +</P> + +<P> +Then Irene gave him more bread and wine, and the king ate and drank, +and smiled a feeble smile, the first real one she had seen for many a +day. He said he felt much better, and would soon be able to take +matters into his own hands again. He had a strange miserable feeling, +he said, that things were going terribly wrong, although he could not +tell how. Then the princess told him that Curdie had come, and that at +night, when all was quiet for nobody in the palace must know, he would +pay His Majesty a visit. Her great-great-grandmother had sent him, she +said. The king looked strangely upon her, but the strange look passed +into a smile clearer than the first, and irene's heart throbbed with +delight. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap22"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 22 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Lord Chamberlain +</H3> + +<P> +At noon the lord chamberlain appeared. With a long, low bow, and paper +in hand, he stepped softly into the room. Greeting His Majesty with +every appearance of the profoundest respect, and congratulating him on +the evident progress he had made, he declared himself sorry to trouble +him, but there were certain papers, he said, which required his +signature—and therewith drew nearer to the king, who lay looking at +him doubtfully. He was a lean, long, yellow man, with a small head, +bald over the top, and tufted at the back and about the ears. He had a +very thin, prominent, hooked nose, and a quantity of loose skin under +his chin and about the throat, which came craning up out of his +neckcloth. His eyes were very small, sharp, and glittering, and looked +black as jet. He had hardly enough of a mouth to make a smile with. +His left hand held the paper, and the long, skinny fingers of his right +a pen just dipped in ink. +</P> + +<P> +But the king, who for weeks had scarcely known what he did, was today +so much himself as to be aware that he was not quite himself; and the +moment he saw the paper, he resolved that he would not sign without +understanding and approving of it. He requested the lord chamberlain +therefore to read it. His Lordship commenced at once but the +difficulties he seemed to encounter, and the fits of stammering that +seized him, roused the king's suspicion tenfold. He called the princess. +</P> + +<P> +'I trouble His Lordship too much,' he said to her: 'you can read print +well, my child—let me hear how you can read writing. Take that paper +from His Lordship's hand, and read it to me from beginning to end, +while my lord drinks a glass of my favourite wine, and watches for your +blunders.' +</P> + +<P> +'Pardon me, Your Majesty,' said the lord chamberlain, with as much of a +smile as he was able to extemporize, 'but it were a thousand pities to +put the attainments of Her Royal Highness to a test altogether too +severe. Your Majesty can scarcely with justice expect the very organs +of her speech to prove capable of compassing words so long, and to her +so unintelligible.' +</P> + +<P> +'I think much of my little princess and her capabilities,' returned the +king, more and more aroused. 'Pray, my lord, permit her to try.' +</P> + +<P> +'Consider, Your Majesty: the thing would be altogether without +precedent. It would be to make sport of statecraft,' said the lord +chamberlain. +</P> + +<P> +'Perhaps you are right, my lord,' answered the king, with more meaning +than he intended should be manifest, while to his growing joy he felt +new life and power throbbing in heart and brain. 'So this morning we +shall read no further. I am indeed ill able for business of such +weight.' +</P> + +<P> +'Will Your Majesty please sign your royal name here?' said the lord +chamberlain, preferring the request as a matter of course, and +approaching with the feather end of the pen pointed to a spot where +there was a great red seal. +</P> + +<P> +'Not today, my lord,' replied the king. +</P> + +<P> +'It is of the greatest importance, Your Majesty,' softly insisted the +other. +</P> + +<P> +'I descried no such importance in it,' said the king. +</P> + +<P> +'Your Majesty heard but a part.' +</P> + +<P> +'And I can hear no more today.' +</P> + +<P> +'I trust Your Majesty has ground enough, in a case of necessity like +the present, to sign upon the representation of his loyal subject and +chamberlain? Or shall I call the lord chancellor?' he added, rising. +</P> + +<P> +'There is no need. I have the very highest opinion of your judgement, +my lord,' answered the king; 'that is, with respect to means: we might +differ as to ends.' +</P> + +<P> +The lord chamberlain made yet further attempts at persuasion; but they +grew feebler and feebler, and he was at last compelled to retire +without having gained his object. And well might his annoyance be +keen! For that paper was the king's will, drawn up by the +attorney-general; nor until they had the king's signature to it was +there much use in venturing farther. But his worst sense of +discomfiture arose from finding the king with so much capacity left, +for the doctor had pledged himself so to weaken his brain that he +should be as a child in their hands, incapable of refusing anything +requested of him: His Lordship began to doubt the doctor's fidelity to +the conspiracy. +</P> + +<P> +The princess was in high delight. She had not for weeks heard so many +words, not to say words of such strength and reason, from her father's +lips: day by day he had been growing weaker and more lethargic. He was +so much exhausted, however, after this effort, that he asked for +another piece of bread and more wine, and fell fast asleep the moment +he had taken them. +</P> + +<P> +The lord chamberlain sent in a rage for Dr Kelman. He came, and while +professing himself unable to understand the symptoms described by His +Lordship, yet pledged himself again that on the morrow the king should +do whatever was required of him. +</P> + +<P> +The day went on. When His Majesty was awake, the princess read to +him—one storybook after another; and whatever she read, the king +listened as if he had never heard anything so good before, making out +in it the wisest meanings. Every now and then he asked for a piece of +bread and a little wine, and every time he ate and drank he slept, and +every time he woke he seemed better than the last time. The princess +bearing her part, the loaf was eaten up and the flagon emptied before +night. The butler took the flagon away, and brought it back filled to +the brim, but both were thirsty and hungry when Curdie came again. +</P> + +<P> +Meantime he and Lina, watching and waking alternately, had plenty of +sleep. In the afternoon, peeping from the recess, they saw several of +the servants enter hurriedly, one after the other, draw wine, drink it, +and steal out; but their business was to take care of the king, not of +his cellar, and they let them drink. Also, when the butler came to +fill the flagon, they restrained themselves, for the villain's fate was +not yet ready for him. He looked terribly frightened, and had brought +with him a large candle and a small terrier—which latter indeed +threatened to be troublesome, for he went roving and sniffing about +until he came to the recess where they were. But as soon as he showed +himself, Lina opened her jaws so wide, and glared at him so horribly, +that, without even uttering a whimper, he tucked his tail between his +legs and ran to his master. He was drawing the wicked wine at the +moment, and did not see him, else he would doubtless have run too. +</P> + +<P> +When suppertime approached, Curdie took his place at the door into the +servants' hall; but after a long hour's vain watch, he began to fear he +should get nothing: there was so much idling about, as well as coming +and going. It was hard to bear—chiefly from the attractions of a +splendid loaf, just fresh out of the oven, which he longed to secure +for the king and princess. At length his chance did arrive: he pounced +upon the loaf and carried it away, and soon after got hold of a pie. +</P> + +<P> +This time, however, both loaf and pie were missed. The cook was +called. He declared he had provided both. One of themselves, he said, +must have carried them away for some friend outside the palace. Then a +housemaid, who had not long been one of them, said she had seen someone +like a page running in the direction of the cellar with something in +his hands. Instantly all turned upon the pages, accusing them, one +after another. All denied, but nobody believed one of them: Where +there is no truth there can be no faith. +</P> + +<P> +To the cellar they all set out to look for the missing pie and loaf. +Lina heard them coming, as well she might, for they were talking and +quarrelling loud, and gave her master warning. They snatched up +everything, and got all signs of their presence out at the back door +before the servants entered. When they found nothing, they all turned +on the chambermaid, and accused her, not only of lying against the +pages, but of having taken the things herself. Their language and +behaviour so disgusted Curdie, who could hear a great part of what +passed, and he saw the danger of discovery now so much increased, that +he began to devise how best at once to rid the palace of the whole pack +of them. That, however, would be small gain so long as the treacherous +officers of state continued in it. They must be first dealt with. A +thought came to him, and the longer he looked at it the better he liked +it. +</P> + +<P> +As soon as the servants were gone, quarrelling and accusing all the +way, they returned and finished their supper. Then Curdie, who had +long been satisfied that Lina understood almost every word he said, +communicated his plan to her, and knew by the wagging of her tail and +the flashing of her eyes that she comprehended it. Until they had the +king safe through the worst part of the night, however, nothing could +be done. +</P> + +<P> +They had now merely to go on waiting where they were till the household +should be asleep. This waiting and waiting was much the hardest thing +Curdie had to do in the whole affair. He took his mattock and, going +again into the long passage, lighted a candle end and proceeded to +examine the rock on all sides. But this was not merely to pass the +time: he had a reason for it. When he broke the stone in the street, +over which the baker fell, its appearance led him to pocket a fragment +for further examination; and since then he had satisfied himself that +it was the kind of stone in which gold is found, and that the yellow +particles in it were pure metal. If such stone existed here in any +plenty, he could soon make the king rich and independent of his +ill-conditioned subjects. He was therefore now bent on an examination +of the rock; nor had he been at it long before he was persuaded that +there were large quantities of gold in the half-crystalline white +stone, with its veins of opaque white and of green, of which the rock, +so far as he had been able to inspect it, seemed almost entirely to +consist. Every piece he broke was spotted with particles and little +lumps of a lovely greenish yellow—and that was gold. Hitherto he had +worked only in silver, but he had read, and heard talk, and knew, +therefore, about gold. As soon as he had got the king free of rogues +and villains, he would have all the best and most honest miners, with +his father at the head of them, to work this rock for the king. +</P> + +<P> +It was a great delight to him to use his mattock once more. The time +went quickly, and when he left the passage to go to the king's chamber, +he had already a good heap of fragments behind the broken door. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap23"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 23 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Dr Kelman +</H3> + +<P> +As soon as he had reason to hope the way was clear, Curdie ventured +softly into the hall, with Lina behind him. There was no one asleep on +the bench or floor, but by the fading fire sat a girl weeping. It was +the same who had seen him carrying off the food, and had been so hardly +used for saying so. She opened her eyes when he appeared, but did not +seem frightened at him. +</P> + +<P> +'I know why you weep,' said Curdie, 'and I am sorry for you.' +</P> + +<P> +'It is hard not to be believed just because one speaks the truth,' said +the girl, 'but that seems reason enough with some people. My mother +taught me to speak the truth, and took such pains with me that I should +find it hard to tell a lie, though I could invent many a story these +servants would believe at once; for the truth is a strange thing here, +and they don't know it when they see it. Show it them, and they all +stare as if it were a wicked lie, and that with the lie yet warm that +has just left their own mouths! You are a stranger,' she said, and +burst out weeping afresh, 'but the stranger you are to such a place and +such people the better!' +</P> + +<P> +'I am the person,' said Curdie, whom you saw carrying the things from +the supper table.' He showed her the loaf. 'If you can trust, as well +as speak the truth, I will trust you. Can you trust me?' +</P> + +<P> +She looked at him steadily for a moment. +</P> + +<P> +'I can,' she answered. +</P> + +<P> +'One thing more,' said Curdie: 'have you courage as well as truth?' +</P> + +<P> +'I think so.' +</P> + +<P> +'Look my dog in the face and don't cry out. Come here, Lina.' +</P> + +<P> +Lina obeyed. The girl looked at her, and laid her hand on Lina's head. +</P> + +<P> +'Now I know you are a true woman,' said curdie. 'I am come to set +things right in this house. Not one of the servants knows I am here. +Will you tell them tomorrow morning that, if they do not alter their +ways, and give over drinking, and lying, and stealing, and unkindness, +they shall every one of them be driven from the palace?' +</P> + +<P> +'They will not believe me.' +</P> + +<P> +'Most likely; but will you give them the chance?' +</P> + +<P> +'I will.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then I will be your friend. Wait here till I come again.' +</P> + +<P> +She looked him once more in the face, and sat down. +</P> + +<P> +When he reached the royal chamber, he found His Majesty awake, and very +anxiously expecting him. He received him with the utmost kindness, and +at once, as it were, put himself in his hands by telling him all he +knew concerning the state he was in. His voice was feeble, but his eye +was clear, although now and then his words and thoughts seemed to +wander. Curdie could not be certain that the cause of their not being +intelligible to him did not lie in himself. The king told him that for +some years, ever since his queen's death, he had been losing heart over +the wickedness of his people. He had tried hard to make them good, but +they got worse and worse. Evil teachers, unknown to him, had crept +into the schools; there was a general decay of truth and right +principle at least in the city; and as that set the example to the +nation, it must spread. +</P> + +<P> +The main cause of his illness was the despondency with which the +degeneration of his people affected him. He could not sleep, and had +terrible dreams; while, to his unspeakable shame and distress, he +doubted almost everybody. He had striven against his suspicion, but in +vain, and his heart was sore, for his courtiers and councillors were +really kind; only he could not think why none of their ladies came near +his princess. The whole country was discontented, he heard, and there +were signs of gathering storm outside as well as inside his borders. +The master of the horse gave him sad news of the insubordination of the +army; and his great white horse was dead, they told him; and his sword +had lost its temper: it bent double the last time he tried it!—only +perhaps that was in a dream; and they could not find his shield; and +one of his spurs had lost the rowel. +</P> + +<P> +Thus the poor king went wandering in a maze of sorrows, some of which +were purely imaginary, while others were truer than he understood. He +told how thieves came at night and tried to take his crown, so that he +never dared let it out of his hands even when he slept; and how, every +night, an evil demon in the shape of his physician came and poured +poison down his throat. He knew it to be poison, he said, somehow, +although it tasted like wine. +</P> + +<P> +Here he stopped, faint with the unusual exertion of talking. +</P> + +<P> +Curdie seized the flagon, and ran to the wine cellar. +</P> + +<P> +In the servants' hall the girl still sat by the fire, waiting for him. +As he returned he told her to follow him, and left her at the chamber +door until he should rejoin her. When the king had had a little wine, +he informed him that he had already discovered certain of His Majesty's +enemies, and one of the worst of them was the doctor, for it was no +other demon than the doctor himself who had been coming every night, +and giving him a slow poison. +</P> + +<P> +'So!' said the king. 'Then I have not been suspicious enough, for I +thought it was but a dream! Is it possible Kelman can be such a +wretch? Who then am I to trust?' +</P> + +<P> +'Not one in the house, except the princess and myself,' said Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'I will not go to sleep,' said the king. +</P> + +<P> +'That would be as bad as taking the poison,' said Curdie. 'No, no, +sire; you must show your confidence by leaving all the watching to me, +and doing all the sleeping Your Majesty can.' +</P> + +<P> +The king smiled a contented smile, turned on his side, and was +presently fast asleep. Then Curdie persuaded the princess also to go +to sleep, and telling Lina to watch, went to the housemaid. He asked +her if she could inform him which of the council slept in the palace, +and show him their rooms. She knew every one of them, she said, and +took him the round of all their doors, telling him which slept in each +room. He then dismissed her, and returning to the king's chamber, +seated himself behind a curtain at the head of the bed, on the side +farthest from the king. He told Lina to get under the bed, and make no +noise. +</P> + +<P> +About one o'clock the doctor came stealing in. He looked round for the +princess, and seeing no one, smiled with satisfaction as he approached +the wine where it stood under the lamp. Having partly filled a glass, +he took from his pocket a small phial, and filled up the glass from it. +The light fell upon his face from above, and Curdie saw the snake in it +plainly visible. He had never beheld such an evil countenance: the man +hated the king, and delighted in doing him wrong. +</P> + +<P> +With the glass in his hand, he drew near the bed, set it down, and +began his usual rude rousing of His Majesty. Not at once succeeding, +he took a lancet from his pocket, and was parting its cover with an +involuntary hiss of hate between his closed teeth, when Curdie stooped +and whispered to Lina. +</P> + +<P> +'Take him by the leg, Lina.' She darted noiselessly upon him. With a +face of horrible consternation, he gave his leg one tug to free it; the +next instant Curdie heard the one scrunch with which she crushed the +bone like a stick of celery. He tumbled on the floor with a yell. +</P> + +<P> +'Drag him out, Lina,' said Curdie. Lina took him by the collar, and +dragged him out. Her master followed her to direct her, and they left +the doctor lying across the lord chamberlain's door, where he gave +another horrible yell, and fainted. +</P> + +<P> +The king had waked at his first cry, and by the time Curdie re-entered +he had got at his sword where it hung from the centre of the tester, +had drawn it, and was trying to get out of bed. But when Curdie told +him all was well, he lay down again as quietly as a child comforted by +his mother from a troubled dream. Curdie went to the door to watch. +</P> + +<P> +The doctor's yells had aroused many, but not one had yet ventured to +appear. Bells were rung violently, but none were answered; and in a +minute or two Curdie had what he was watching for. The door of the +lord chamberlain's room opened, and, pale with hideous terror, His +Lordship peeped out. Seeing no one, he advanced to step into the +corridor, and tumbled over the doctor. Curdie ran up, and held out his +hand. He received in it the claw of a bird of prey—vulture or eagle, +he could not tell which. +</P> + +<P> +His Lordship, as soon as he was on his legs, taking him for one of the +pages abused him heartily for not coming sooner, and threatened him +with dismissal from the king's service for cowardice and neglect. He +began indeed what bade fair to be a sermon on the duties of a page, but +catching sight of the man who lay at his door, and seeing it was the +doctor, he fell upon Curdie afresh for standing there doing nothing, +and ordered him to fetch immediate assistance. Curdie left him, but +slipped into the King's chamber, closed and locked the door, and left +the rascals to look after each other. Ere long he heard hurrying +footsteps, and for a few minutes there was a great muffled tumult of +scuffling feet, low voices and deep groanings; then all was still again. +</P> + +<P> +Irene slept through the whole—so confidently did she rest, knowing +Curdie was in her father's room watching over him. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap24"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 24 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Prophecy +</H3> + +<P> +Curdie sat and watched every motion of the sleeping king. All the +night, to his ear, the palace lay as quiet as a nursery of healthful +children. At sunrise he called the princess. +</P> + +<P> +'How has His Majesty slept?' were her first words as she entered the +room. +</P> + +<P> +'Quite quietly,' answered Curdie; 'that is, since the doctor was got +rid of.' +</P> + +<P> +'How did you manage that?' inquired Irene; and Curdie had to tell all +about it. +</P> + +<P> +'How terrible!' she said. 'Did it not startle the king dreadfully?' +</P> + +<P> +'It did rather. I found him getting out of bed, sword in hand.' +</P> + +<P> +'The brave old man!' cried the princess. +</P> + +<P> +'Not so old!' said Curdie, 'as you will soon see. He went off again in +a minute or so; but for a little while he was restless, and once when +he lifted his hand it came down on the spikes of his crown, and he half +waked.' +</P> + +<P> +'But where is the crown?' cried Irene, in sudden terror. +</P> + +<P> +'I stroked his hands,' answered Curdie, 'and took the crown from them; +and ever since he has slept quietly, and again and again smiled in his +sleep.' +</P> + +<P> +'I have never seen him do that,' said the princess. 'But what have you +done with the crown, Curdie?' +</P> + +<P> +'Look,' said Curdie, moving away from the bedside. +</P> + +<P> +Irene followed him—and there, in the middle of the floor, she saw a +strange sight. Lina lay at full length, fast asleep, her tail +stretched out straight behind her and her forelegs before her: between +the two paws meeting in front of it, her nose just touching it behind, +glowed and flashed the crown, like a nest of the humming birds of +heaven. +</P> + +<P> +Irene gazed, and looked up with a smile. +</P> + +<P> +'But what if the thief were to come, and she not to wake?' she said. +'Shall I try her?' And as she spoke she stooped toward the crown. +</P> + +<P> +'No, no, no!' cried Curdie, terrified. 'She would frighten you out of +your wits. I would do it to show you, but she would wake your father. +You have no conception with what a roar she would spring at my throat. +But you shall see how lightly she wakes the moment I speak to her. +Lina!' +</P> + +<P> +She was on her feet the same instant, with her great tail sticking out +straight behind her, just as it had been lying. +</P> + +<P> +'Good dog!' said the princess, and patted her head. Lina wagged her +tail solemnly, like the boom of an anchored sloop. Irene took the +crown, and laid it where the king would see it when he woke. +</P> + +<P> +'Now, Princess,' said Curdie, 'I must leave you for a few minutes. You +must bolt the door, please, and not open it to any one.' +</P> + +<P> +Away to the cellar he went with Lina, taking care, as they passed +through the servants' hall, to get her a good breakfast. In about one +minute she had eaten what he gave her, and looked up in his face: it +was not more she wanted, but work. So out of the cellar they went +through the passage, and Curdie into the dungeon, where he pulled up +Lina, opened the door, let her out, and shut it again behind her. As +he reached the door of the king's chamber, Lina was flying out of the +gate of Gwyntystorm as fast as her mighty legs could carry her. +</P> + +<P> +'What's come to the wench?' growled the menservants one to another, +when the chambermaid appeared among them the next morning. There was +something in her face which they could not understand, and did not like. +</P> + +<P> +'Are we all dirt?' they said. 'What are you thinking about? Have you +seen yourself in the glass this morning, miss?' +</P> + +<P> +She made no answer. +</P> + +<P> +'Do you want to be treated as you deserve, or will you speak, you +hussy?' said the first woman-cook. 'I would fain know what right you +have to put on a face like that!' +</P> + +<P> +'You won't believe me,' said the girl. +</P> + +<P> +'Of course not. What is it?' +</P> + +<P> +'I must tell you, whether you believe me or not,' she said. +</P> + +<P> +'Of course you must.' +</P> + +<P> +'It is this, then: if you do not repent of your bad ways, you are all +going to be punished—all turned out of the palace together.' +</P> + +<P> +'A mighty punishment!' said the butler. 'A good riddance, say I, of +the trouble of keeping minxes like you in order! And why, pray, should +we be turned out? What have I to repent of now, your holiness?' +</P> + +<P> +'That you know best yourself,' said the girl. +</P> + +<P> +'A pretty piece of insolence! How should I know, forsooth, what a +menial like you has got against me! There are people in this +house—oh! I'm not blind to their ways!—but every one for himself, say +I! Pray, Miss judgement, who gave you such an impertinent message to +His Majesty's household?' +</P> + +<P> +'One who is come to set things right in the king's house.' +</P> + +<P> +'Right, indeed!' cried the butler; but that moment the thought came +back to him of the roar he had heard in the cellar, and he turned pale +and was silent. +</P> + +<P> +The steward took it up next. +</P> + +<P> +'And pray, pretty prophetess,' he said, attempting to chuck her under +the chin, 'what have I got to repent of?' +</P> + +<P> +'That you know best yourself,' said the girl. 'You have but to look +into your books or your heart.' +</P> + +<P> +'Can you tell me, then, what I have to repent of?' said the groom of +the chambers. 'That you know best yourself,' said the girl once more. +'The person who told me to tell you said the servants of this house had +to repent of thieving, and lying, and unkindness, and drinking; and +they will be made to repent of them one way, if they don't do it of +themselves another.' +</P> + +<P> +Then arose a great hubbub; for by this time all the servants in the +house were gathered about her, and all talked together, in towering +indignation. +</P> + +<P> +'Thieving, indeed!' cried one. 'A pretty word in a house where +everything is left lying about in a shameless way, tempting poor +innocent girls! A house where nobody cares for anything, or has the +least respect to the value of property!' +</P> + +<P> +'I suppose you envy me this brooch of mine,' said another. 'There was +just a half sheet of note paper about it, not a scrap more, in a drawer +that's always open in the writing table in the study! What sort of a +place is that for a jewel? Can you call it stealing to take a thing +from such a place as that? Nobody cared a straw about it. It might as +well have been in the dust hole! If it had been locked up—then, to be +sure!' +</P> + +<P> +'Drinking!' said the chief porter, with a husky laugh. 'And who +wouldn't drink when he had a chance? Or who would repent it, except +that the drink was gone? Tell me that, Miss Innocence.' +</P> + +<P> +'Lying!' said a great, coarse footman. 'I suppose you mean when I told +you yesterday you were a pretty girl when you didn't pout? Lying, +indeed! Tell us something worth repenting of! Lying is the way of +Gwyntystorm. You should have heard Jabez lying to the cook last night! +He wanted a sweetbread for his pup, and pretended it was for the +princess! Ha! ha! ha!' +</P> + +<P> +'Unkindness! I wonder who's unkind! Going and listening to any +stranger against her fellow servants, and then bringing back his wicked +words to trouble them!' said the oldest and worst of the housemaids. +'One of ourselves, too! Come, you hypocrite! This is all an invention +of yours and your young man's, to take your revenge of us because we +found you out in a lie last night. Tell true now: wasn't it the same +that stole the loaf and the pie that sent you with the impudent +message?' +</P> + +<P> +As she said this, she stepped up to the housemaid and gave her, instead +of time to answer, a box on the ear that almost threw her down; and +whoever could get at her began to push and bustle and pinch and punch +her. +</P> + +<P> +'You invite your fate,' she said quietly. +</P> + +<P> +They fell furiously upon her, drove her from the hall with kicks and +blows, hustled her along the passage, and threw her down the stair to +the wine cellar, then locked the door at the top of it, and went back +to their breakfast. +</P> + +<P> +In the meantime the king and the princess had had their bread and wine, +and the princess, with Curdie's help, had made the room as tidy as she +could—they were terribly neglected by the servants. And now Curdie set +himself to interest and amuse the king, and prevent him from thinking +too much, in order that he might the sooner think the better. +Presently, at His Majesty's request, he began from the beginning, and +told everything he could recall of his life, about his father and +mother and their cottage on the mountain, of the inside of the mountain +and the work there, about the goblins and his adventures with them. +</P> + +<P> +When he came to finding the princess and her nurse overtaken by the +twilight on the mountain, Irene took up her share of the tale, and told +all about herself to that point, and then Curdie took it up again; and +so they went on, each fitting in the part that the other did not know, +thus keeping the hoop of the story running straight; and the king +listened with wondering and delighted ears, astonished to find what he +could so ill comprehend, yet fitting so well together from the lips of +two narrators. +</P> + +<P> +At last, with the mission given him by the wonderful princess and his +consequent adventures, Curdie brought up the whole tale to the present +moment. Then a silence fell, and Irene and Curdie thought the king was +asleep. But he was far from it; he was thinking about many things. +After a long pause he said: +</P> + +<P> +'Now at last, MY children, I am compelled to believe many things I +could not and do not yet understand—things I used to hear, and +sometimes see, as often as I visited my mother's home. Once, for +instance, I heard my mother say to her father—speaking of me—"He is a +good, honest boy, but he will be an old man before he understands"; and +my grandfather answered, "Keep up your heart, child: my mother will +look after him." I thought often of their words, and the many strange +things besides I both heard and saw in that house; but by degrees, +because I could not understand them, I gave up thinking of them. And +indeed I had almost forgotten them, when you, my child, talking that +day about the Queen Irene and her pigeons, and what you had seen in her +garret, brought them all back to my mind in a vague mass. But now they +keep coming back to me, one by one, every one for itself; and I shall +just hold my peace, and lie here quite still, and think about them all +till I get well again.' +</P> + +<P> +What he meant they could not quite understand, but they saw plainly +that already he was better. +</P> + +<P> +'Put away my crown,' he said. 'I am tired of seeing it, and have no +more any fear of its safety.' They put it away together, withdrew from +the bedside, and left him in peace. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap25"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 25 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Avengers +</H3> + +<P> +There was nothing now to be dreaded from Dr Kelman, but it made Curdie +anxious, as the evening drew near, to think that not a soul belonging +to the court had been to visit the king, or ask how he did, that day. +He feared, in some shape or other, a more determined assault. He had +provided himself a place in the room, to which he might retreat upon +approach, and whence he could watch; but not once had he had to betake +himself to it. +</P> + +<P> +Towards night the king fell asleep. Curdie thought more and more +uneasily of the moment when he must again leave them for a little +while. Deeper and deeper fell the shadows. No one came to light the +lamp. The princess drew her chair close to Curdie: she would rather it +were not so dark, she said. She was afraid of something—she could not +tell what; nor could she give any reason for her fear but that all was +so dreadfully still. +</P> + +<P> +When it had been dark about an hour, Curdie thought Lina might have +returned; and reflected that the sooner he went the less danger was +there of any assault while he was away. There was more risk of his own +presence being discovered, no doubt, but things were now drawing to a +crisis, and it must be run. So, telling the princess to lock all the +doors of the bedchamber, and let no one in, he took his mattock, and +with here a run, and there a halt under cover, gained the door at the +head of the cellar stair in safety. To his surprise he found it +locked, and the key was gone. There was no time for deliberation. He +felt where the lock was, and dealt it a tremendous blow with his +mattock. It needed but a second to dash the door open. Someone laid a +hand on his arm. +</P> + +<P> +'Who is it?' said Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'I told you they wouldn't believe me, sir,' said the housemaid. 'I +have been here all day.' +</P> + +<P> +He took her hand, and said, 'You are a good, brave girl. Now come with +me, lest your enemies imprison you again.' +</P> + +<P> +He took her to the cellar, locked the door, lighted a bit of candle, +gave her a little wine, told her to wait there till he came, and went +out the back way. +</P> + +<P> +Swiftly he swung himself up into the dungeon. Lina had done her part. +The place was swarming with creatures—animal forms wilder and more +grotesque than ever ramped in nightmare dream. Close by the hole, +waiting his coming, her green eyes piercing the gulf below, Lina had +but just laid herself down when he appeared. All about the vault and +up the slope of the rubbish heap lay and stood and squatted the +forty-nine whose friendship Lina had conquered in the wood. They all +came crowding about Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +He must get them into the cellar as quickly as ever he could. But when +he looked at the size of some of them, he feared it would be a long +business to enlarge the hole sufficiently to let them through. At it +he rushed, hitting vigorously at the edge with his mattock. At the +very first blow came a splash from the water beneath, but ere he could +heave a third, a creature like a tapir, only that the grasping point of +its proboscis was hard as the steel of Curdie's hammer, pushed him +gently aside, making room for another creature, with a head like a +great club, which it began banging upon the floor with terrible force +and noise. After about a minute of this battery, the tapir came up +again, shoved Clubhead aside, and putting its own head into the hole +began gnawing at the sides of it with the finger of its nose, in such a +fashion that the fragments fell in a continuous gravelly shower into +the water. In a few minutes the opening was large enough for the +biggest creature among them to get through it. +</P> + +<P> +Next came the difficulty of letting them down: some were quite light, +but the half of them were too heavy for the rope, not to say for his +arms. The creatures themselves seemed to be puzzling where or how they +were to go. One after another of them came up, looked down through the +hole, and drew back. Curdie thought if he let Lina down, perhaps that +would suggest something; possibly they did not see the opening on the +other side. He did so, and Lina stood lighting up the entrance of the +passage with her gleaming eyes. +</P> + +<P> +One by one the creatures looked down again, and one by one they drew +back, each standing aside to glance at the next, as if to say, Now you +have a look. At last it came to the turn of the serpent with the long +body, the four short legs behind, and the little wings before. No +sooner had he poked his head through than he poked it farther +through—and farther, and farther yet, until there was little more than +his legs left in the dungeon. By that time he had got his head and +neck well into the passage beside Lina. Then his legs gave a great +waddle and spring, and he tumbled himself, far as there was betwixt +them, heels over head into the passage. +</P> + +<P> +'That is all very well for you, Mr Legserpent!' thought Curdie to +himself; 'but what is to be done with the rest?' He had hardly time to +think it, however, before the creature's head appeared again through +the floor. He caught hold of the bar of iron to which Curdie's rope +was tied, and settling it securely across the narrowest part of the +irregular opening, held fast to it with his teeth. It was plain to +Curdie, from the universal hardness among them, that they must all, at +one time or another, have been creatures of the mines. +</P> + +<P> +He saw at once what this one was after. The beast had planted his feet +firmly upon the floor of the passage, and stretched his long body up +and across the chasm to serve as a bridge for the rest. Curdie mounted +instantly upon his neck, threw his arms round him as far as they would +go, and slid down in ease and safety, the bridge just bending a little +as his weight glided over it. But he thought some of the creatures +would try the legserpent's teeth. +</P> + +<P> +One by one the oddities followed, and slid down in safety. When they +seemed to be all landed, he counted them: there were but forty-eight. +Up the rope again he went, and found one which had been afraid to trust +himself to the bridge, and no wonder! for he had neither legs nor head +nor arms nor tail: he was just a round thing, about a foot in diameter, +with a nose and mouth and eyes on one side of the ball. He had made +his journey by rolling as swiftly as the fleetest of them could run. +The back of the legserpent not being flat, he could not quite trust +himself to roll straight and not drop into the gulf. Curdie took him +in his arms, and the moment he looked down through the hole, the bridge +made itself again, and he slid into the passage in safety, with +Ballbody in his bosom. +</P> + +<P> +He ran first to the cellar to warn the girl not to be frightened at the +avengers of wickedness. Then he called to Lina to bring in her friends. +</P> + +<P> +One after another they came trooping in, till the cellar seemed full of +them. The housemaid regarded them without fear. +</P> + +<P> +'Sir,' she said, 'there is one of the pages I don't take to be a bad +fellow.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then keep him near you,' said Curdie. 'And now can you show me a way +to the king's chamber not through the servants' hall?' +</P> + +<P> +'There is a way through the chamber of the colonel of the guard,' she +answered, 'but he is ill, and in bed.' +</P> + +<P> +'Take me that way,' said Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +By many ups and downs and windings and turnings she brought him to a +dimly lighted room, where lay an elderly man asleep. His arm was +outside the coverlid, and Curdie gave his hand a hurried grasp as he +went by. His heart beat for joy, for he had found a good, honest, +human hand. +</P> + +<P> +'I suppose that is why he is ill,' he said to himself. +</P> + +<P> +It was now close upon suppertime, and when the girl stopped at the door +of the king's chamber, he told her to go and give the servants one +warning more. +</P> + +<P> +'Say the messenger sent you,' he said. 'I will be with you very soon.' +</P> + +<P> +The king was still asleep. Curdie talked to the princess for a few +minutes, told her not to be frightened whatever noises she heard, only +to keep her door locked till he came, and left her. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap26"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 26 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Vengeance +</H3> + +<P> +By the time the girl reached the servants' hall they were seated at +supper. A loud, confused exclamation arose when she entered. No one +made room for her; all stared with unfriendly eyes. A page, who +entered the next minute by another door, came to her side. +</P> + +<P> +'Where do you come from, hussy?' shouted the butler, and knocked his +fist on the table with a loud clang. +</P> + +<P> +He had gone to fetch wine, had found the stair door broken open and the +cellar door locked, and had turned and fled. Among his fellows, +however, he had now regained what courage could be called his. +</P> + +<P> +'From the cellar,' she replied. 'The messenger broke open the door, +and sent me to you again.' +</P> + +<P> +'The messenger! Pooh! What messenger?' +</P> + +<P> +'The same who sent me before to tell you to repent.' +</P> + +<P> +'What! Will you go fooling it still? Haven't you had enough of it?' +cried the butler in a rage, and starting to his feet, drew near +threateningly. +</P> + +<P> +'I must do as I am told,' said the girl. +</P> + +<P> +'Then why don't you do as I tell you, and hold your tongue?' said the +butler. 'Who wants your preachments? If anybody here has anything to +repent Of, isn't that enough—and more than enough for him—but you +must come bothering about, and stirring up, till not a drop of quiet +will settle inside him? You come along with me, young woman; we'll see +if we can't find a lock somewhere in the house that'll hold you in!' +</P> + +<P> +'Hands off, Mr Butler!' said the page, and stepped between. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, ho!' cried the butler, and pointed his fat finger at him. 'That's +you, is it, my fine fellow? So it's you that's up to her tricks, is +it?' +</P> + +<P> +The youth did not answer, only stood with flashing eyes fixed on him, +until, growing angrier and angrier, but not daring a step nearer, he +burst out with a rude but quavering authority: +</P> + +<P> +'Leave the house, both of you! Be off, or I'll have Mr Steward to talk +to you. Threaten your masters, indeed! Out of the house with you, and +show us the way you tell us of!' +</P> + +<P> +Two or three of the footmen got up and ranged themselves behind the +butler. +</P> + +<P> +'Don't say I threaten you, Mr Butler,' expostulated the girl from +behind the page. 'The messenger said I was to tell you again, and give +you one chance more.' +</P> + +<P> +'Did the messenger mention me in particular?' asked the butler, looking +the page unsteadily in the face. +</P> + +<P> +'No, sir,' answered the girl. +</P> + +<P> +'I thought not! I should like to hear him!' +</P> + +<P> +'Then hear him now,' said Curdie, who that moment entered at the +opposite corner of the hall. 'I speak of the butler in particular when +I say that I know more evil of him than of any of the rest. He will not +let either his own conscience or my messenger speak to him: I therefore +now speak myself. I proclaim him a villain, and a traitor to His +Majesty the king. But what better is any one of you who cares only for +himself, eats, drinks, takes good money, and gives vile service in +return, stealing and wasting the king's property, and making of the +palace, which ought to be an example of order and sobriety, a disgrace +to the country?' +</P> + +<P> +For a moment all stood astonished into silence by this bold speech from +a stranger. True, they saw by his mattock over his shoulder that he +was nothing but a miner boy, yet for a moment the truth told +notwithstanding. Then a great roaring laugh burst from the biggest of +the footmen as he came shouldering his way through the crowd toward +Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, I'm right,' he cried; 'I thought as much! This messenger, +forsooth, is nothing but a gallows bird—a fellow the city marshal was +going to hang, but unfortunately put it off till he should be starved +enough to save rope and be throttled with a pack thread. He broke +prison, and here he is preaching!' As he spoke, he stretched out his +great hand to lay hold of him. Curdie caught it in his left hand, and +heaved his mattock with the other. Finding, however, nothing worse +than an ox hoof, he restrained himself, stepped back a pace or two, +shifted his mattock to his left hand, and struck him a little smart +blow on the shoulder. His arm dropped by his side, he gave a roar, and +drew back. +</P> + +<P> +His fellows came crowding upon Curdie. Some called to the dogs; others +swore; the women screamed; the footmen and pages got round him in a +half circle, which he kept from closing by swinging his mattock, and +here and there threatening a blow. +</P> + +<P> +'Whoever confesses to having done anything wrong in this house, however +small, however great, and means to do better, let him come to this +corner of the room,' he cried. +</P> + +<P> +None moved but the page, who went toward him skirting the wall. When +they caught sight of him, the crowd broke into a hiss of derision. +</P> + +<P> +'There! See! Look at the sinner! He confesses! Actually confesses! +Come, what is it you stole? The barefaced hypocrite! There's your sort +to set up for reproving other people! Where's the other now?' +</P> + +<P> +But the maid had left the room, and they let the page pass, for he +looked dangerous to stop. Curdie had just put him betwixt him and the +wall, behind the door, when in rushed the butler with the huge kitchen +poker, the point of which he had blown red-hot in the fire, followed by +the cook with his longest spit. Through the crowd, which scattered +right and left before them, they came down upon Curdie. Uttering a +shrill whistle, he caught the poker a blow with his mattock, knocking +the point to the ground, while the page behind him started forward, and +seizing the point of the spit, held on to it with both hands, the cook +kicking him furiously. +</P> + +<P> +Ere the butler could raise the poker again, or the cook recover the +spit, with a roar to terrify the dead, Lina dashed into the room, her +eyes flaming like candles. She went straight at the butler. He was +down in a moment, and she on the top of him, wagging her tail over him +like a lioness. +</P> + +<P> +'Don't kill him, Lina,' said Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'Oh, Mr Miner!' cried the butler. +</P> + +<P> +'Put your foot on his mouth, Lina,' said Curdie. 'The truth Fear tells +is not much better than her lies.' +</P> + +<P> +The rest of the creatures now came stalking, rolling, leaping, gliding, +hobbling into the room, and each as he came took the next place along +the wall, until, solemn and grotesque, all stood ranged, awaiting +orders. +</P> + +<P> +And now some of the culprits were stealing to the doors nearest them. +Curdie whispered to the two creatures next him. Off went Ballbody, +rolling and bounding through the crowd like a spent cannon shot, and +when the foremost reached the door to the corridor, there he lay at the +foot of it grinning; to the other door scuttled a scorpion, as big as a +huge crab. The rest stood so still that some began to think they were +only boys dressed up to look awful; they persuaded themselves they were +only another part of the housemaid's and page's vengeful contrivance, +and their evil spirits began to rise again. Meantime Curdie had, with +a second sharp blow from the hammer of his mattock, disabled the cook, +so that he yielded the spit with a groan. He now turned to the +avengers. +</P> + +<P> +'Go at them,' he said. +</P> + +<P> +The whole nine-and-forty obeyed at once, each for himself, and after +his own fashion. A scene of confusion and terror followed. The crowd +scattered like a dance of flies. The creatures had been instructed not +to hurt much, but to hunt incessantly, until everyone had rushed from +the house. The women shrieked, and ran hither and thither through the +hall, pursued each by her own horror, and snapped at by every other in +passing. If one threw herself down in hysterical despair, she was +instantly poked or clawed or nibbled up again. +</P> + +<P> +Though they were quite as frightened at first, the men did not run so +fast; and by and by some of them finding they were only glared at, and +followed, and pushed, began to summon up courage once more, and with +courage came impudence. The tapir had the big footman in charge: the +fellow stood stock-still, and let the beast come up to him, then put +out his finger and playfully patted his nose. The tapir gave the nose +a little twist, and the finger lay on the floor. +</P> + +<P> +Then indeed did the footman run. +</P> + +<P> +Gradually the avengers grew more severe, and the terrors of the +imagination were fast yielding to those of sensuous experience, when a +page, perceiving one of the doors no longer guarded, sprang at it, and +ran out. Another and another followed. Not a beast went after, until, +one by one, they were every one gone from the hall, and the whole crew +in the kitchen. +</P> + +<P> +There they were beginning to congratulate themselves that all was over, +when in came the creatures trooping after them, and the second act of +their terror and pain began. They were flung about in all directions; +their clothes were torn from them; they were pinched and scratched any- +and everywhere; Ballbody kept rolling up them and over them, confining +his attentions to no one in particular; the scorpion kept grabbing at +their legs with his huge pincers; a three-foot centipede kept screwing +up their bodies, nipping as he went; varied as numerous were their +woes. Nor was it long before the last of them had fled from the +kitchen to the sculleries. +</P> + +<P> +But thither also they were followed, and there again they were hunted +about. They were bespattered with the dirt of their own neglect; they +were soused in the stinking water that had boiled greens; they were +smeared with rancid dripping; their faces were rubbed in maggots: I +dare not tell all that was done to them. At last they got the door +into a back yard open, and rushed out. Then first they knew that the +wind was howling and the rain falling in sheets. But there was no rest +for them even there. Thither also were they followed by the inexorable +avengers, and the only door here was a door out of the palace: out +every soul of them was driven, and left, some standing, some lying, +some crawling, to the farther buffeting of the waterspouts and +whirlwinds ranging every street of the city. The door was flung to +behind them, and they heard it locked and bolted and barred against +them. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap27"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 27 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +More Vengeance +</H3> + +<P> +As soon as they were gone, Curdie brought the creatures back to the +servants' hall, and told them to eat up everything on the table. It was +a sight to see them all standing round it—except such as had to get +upon it—eating and drinking, each after its fashion, without a smile, +or a word, or a glance of fellowship in the act. A very few moments +served to make everything eatable vanish, and then Curdie requested +them to clean house, and the page who stood by to assist them. +</P> + +<P> +Every one set about it except Ballbody: he could do nothing at +cleaning, for the more he rolled, the more he spread the dirt. Curdie +was curious to know what he had been, and how he had come to be such as +he was: but he could only conjecture that he was a gluttonous alderman +whom nature had treated homeopathically. And now there was such a +cleaning and clearing out of neglected places, such a burying and +burning of refuse, such a rinsing of jugs, such a swilling of sinks, +and such a flushing of drains as would have delighted the eyes of all +true housekeepers and lovers of cleanliness generally. +</P> + +<P> +Curdie meantime was with the king, telling him all he had done. They +had heard a little noise, but not much, for he had told the avengers to +repress outcry as much as possible; and they had seen to it that the +more anyone cried out the more he had to cry out upon, while the +patient ones they scarcely hurt at all. +</P> + +<P> +Having promised His Majesty and Her Royal Highness a good breakfast, +Curdie now went to finish the business. The courtiers must be dealt +with. A few who were the worst, and the leaders of the rest, must be +made examples of; the others should be driven to the street. +</P> + +<P> +He found the chiefs of the conspiracy holding a final consultation in +the smaller room off the hall. These were the lord chamberlain, the +attorney-general, the master of the horse, and the king's private +secretary: the lord chancellor and the rest, as foolish as faithless, +were but the tools of these. +</P> + +<P> +The housemaid had shown him a little closet, opening from a passage +behind, where he could overhear all that passed in that room; and now +Curdie heard enough to understand that they had determined, in the dead +of that night, rather in the deepest dark before the morning, to bring +a certain company of soldiers into the palace, make away with the king, +secure the princess, announce the sudden death of His Majesty, read as +his the will they had drawn up, and proceed to govern the country at +their ease, and with results: they would at once levy severer taxes, +and pick a quarrel with the most powerful of their neighbours. +Everything settled, they agreed to retire, and have a few hours' quiet +sleep first—all but the secretary, who was to sit up and call them at +the proper moment. Curdie allowed them half an hour to get to bed, and +then set about completing his purgation of the palace. +</P> + +<P> +First he called Lina, and opened the door of the room where the +secretary sat. She crept in, and laid herself down against it. When +the secretary, rising to stretch his legs, caught sight of her eyes, he +stood frozen with terror. She made neither motion nor sound. +Gathering courage, and taking the thing for a spectral illusion, he +made a step forward. She showed her other teeth, with a growl neither +more than audible nor less than horrible. The secretary sank fainting +into a chair. He was not a brave man, and besides, his conscience had +gone over to the enemy, and was sitting against the door by Lina. +</P> + +<P> +To the lord chamberlain's door next, Curdie conducted the legserpent, +and let him in. +</P> + +<P> +Now His Lordship had had a bedstead made for himself, sweetly fashioned +of rods of silver gilt: upon it the legserpent found him asleep, and +under it he crept. But out he came on the other side, and crept over +it next, and again under it, and so over it, under it, over it, five or +six times, every time leaving a coil of himself behind him, until he +had softly folded all his length about the lord chamberlain and his +bed. This done, he set up his head, looking down with curved neck +right over His Lordship's, and began to hiss in his face. +</P> + +<P> +He woke in terror unspeakable, and would have started up but the moment +he moved, the legserpent drew his coils closer, and closer still, and +drew and drew until the quaking traitor heard the joints of his +bedstead grinding and gnarring. Presently he persuaded himself that it +was only a horrid nightmare, and began to struggle with all his +strength to throw it off. Thereupon the legserpent gave his hooked +nose such a bite that his teeth met through it—but it was hardly +thicker than the bowl of a spoon; and then the vulture knew that he was +in the grasp of his enemy the snake, and yielded. +</P> + +<P> +As soon as he was quiet the legserpent began to untwist and retwist, to +uncoil and recoil himself, swinging and swaying, knotting and relaxing +himself with strangest curves and convolutions, always, however, +leaving at least one coil around his victim. At last he undid himself +entirely, and crept from the bed. Then first the lord chamberlain +discovered that his tormentor had bent and twisted the bedstead, legs +and canopy and all, so about him that he was shut in a silver cage out +of which it was impossible for him to find a way. Once more, thinking +his enemy was gone, he began to shout for help. But the instant he +opened his mouth his keeper darted at him and bit him, and after three +or four such essays, he lay still. +</P> + +<P> +The master of the horse Curdie gave in charge to the tapir. When the +soldier saw him enter—for he was not yet asleep—he sprang from his +bed, and flew at him with his sword. But the creature's hide was +invulnerable to his blows, and he pecked at his legs with his proboscis +until he jumped into bed again, groaning, and covered himself up; after +which the tapir contented himself with now and then paying a visit to +his toes. +</P> + +<P> +As for the attorney-general, Curdie led to his door a huge spider, +about two feet long in the body, which, having made an excellent +supper, was full of webbing. The attorney-general had not gone to bed, +but sat in a chair asleep before a great mirror. He had been trying +the effect of a diamond star which he had that morning taken from the +jewel room. When he woke he fancied himself paralysed; every limb, +every finger even, was motionless: coils and coils of broad spider +ribbon bandaged his members to his body, and all to the chair. In the +glass he saw himself wound about with slavery infinite. On a footstool +a yard off sat the spider glaring at him. +</P> + +<P> +Clubhead had mounted guard over the butler, where he lay tied hand and +foot under the third cask. From that cask he had seen the wine run +into a great bath, and therein he expected to be drowned. The doctor, +with his crushed leg, needed no one to guard him. +</P> + +<P> +And now Curdie proceeded to the expulsion of the rest. Great men or +underlings, he treated them all alike. From room to room over the +house he went, and sleeping or waking took the man by the hand. Such +was the state to which a year of wicked rule had reduced the moral +condition of the court, that in it all he found but three with human +hands. The possessors of these he allowed to dress themselves and +depart in peace. When they perceived his mission, and how he was +backed, they yielded. +</P> + +<P> +Then commenced a general hunt, to clear the house of the vermin. Out of +their beds in their night clothing, out of their rooms, gorgeous +chambers or garret nooks, the creatures hunted them. Not one was +allowed to escape. Tumult and noise there was little, for fear was too +deadly for outcry. Ferreting them out everywhere, following them +upstairs and downstairs, yielding no instant of repose except upon the +way out, the avengers persecuted the miscreants, until the last of them +was shivering outside the palace gates, with hardly sense enough left +to know where to turn. +</P> + +<P> +When they set out to look for shelter, they found every inn full of the +servants expelled before them, and not one would yield his place to a +superior suddenly levelled with himself. Most houses refused to admit +them on the ground of the wickedness that must have drawn on them such +a punishment; and not a few would have been left in the streets all +night, had not Derba, roused by the vain entreaties at the doors on +each side of her cottage, opened hers, and given up everything to them. +The lord chancellor was only too glad to share a mattress with a +stableboy, and steal his bare feet under his jacket. +</P> + +<P> +In the morning Curdie appeared, and the outcasts were in terror, +thinking he had come after them again. But he took no notice of them: +his object was to request Derba to go to the palace: the king required +her services. She need take no trouble about her cottage, he said; the +palace was henceforward her home: she was the king's chatelaine over +men and maidens of his household. And this very morning she must cook +His Majesty a nice breakfast. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap28"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 28 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Preacher +</H3> + +<P> +Various reports went undulating through the city as to the nature of +what had taken place in the palace. The people gathered, and stared at +the house, eyeing it as if it had sprung up in the night. But it looked +sedate enough, remaining closed and silent, like a house that was dead. +They saw no one come out or go in. Smoke arose from a chimney or two; +there was hardly another sign of life. It was not for some little time +generally understood that the highest officers of the crown as well as +the lowest menials of the palace had been dismissed in disgrace: for +who was to recognize a lord chancellor in his nightshirt? And what +lord chancellor would, so attired in the street, proclaim his rank and +office aloud? Before it was day most of the courtiers crept down to the +river, hired boats, and betook themselves to their homes or their +friends in the country. It was assumed in the city that the domestics +had been discharged upon a sudden discovery of general and unpardonable +peculation; for, almost everybody being guilty of it himself, petty +dishonesty was the crime most easily credited and least easily passed +over in Gwyntystorm. +</P> + +<P> +Now that same day was Religion day, and not a few of the clergy, always +glad to seize on any passing event to give interest to the dull and +monotonic grind of their intellectual machines, made this remarkable +one the ground of discourse to their congregations. More especially +than the rest, the first priest of the great temple where was the royal +pew, judged himself, from his relation to the palace, called upon to +'improve the occasion', for they talked ever about improvement at +Gwyntystorm, all the time they were going down hill with a rush. +</P> + +<P> +The book which had, of late years, come to be considered the most +sacred, was called The Book of Nations, and consisted of proverbs, and +history traced through custom: from it the first priest chose his text; +and his text was, 'Honesty Is the Best Policy.' He was considered a +very eloquent man, but I can offer only a few of the larger bones of +his sermon. +</P> + +<P> +The main proof of the verity of their religion, he said, was that +things always went well with those who profess it; and its first +fundamental principle, grounded in inborn invariable instinct, was, +that every One should take care of that One. This was the first duty +of Man. If every one would but obey this law, number one, then would +every one be perfectly cared for—one being always equal to one. But +the faculty of care was in excess of need, and all that overflowed, and +would otherwise run to waste, ought to be gently turned in the +direction of one's neighbour, seeing that this also wrought for the +fulfilling of the law, inasmuch as the reaction of excess so directed +was upon the director of the same, to the comfort, that is, and +well-being of the original self. To be just and friendly was to build +the warmest and safest of all nests, and to be kind and loving was to +line it with the softest of all furs and feathers, for the one +precious, comfort-loving self there to lie, revelling in downiest +bliss. One of the laws therefore most binding upon men because of its +relation to the first and greatest of all duties, was embodied in the +Proverb he had just read; and what stronger proof of its wisdom and +truth could they desire than the sudden and complete vengeance which +had fallen upon those worse than ordinary sinners who had offended +against the king's majesty by forgetting that 'Honesty Is the Best +Policy'? +</P> + +<P> +At this point of the discourse the head of the legserpent rose from the +floor of the temple, towering above the pulpit, above the priest, then +curving downward, with open mouth slowly descended upon him. Horror +froze the sermon-pump. He stared upward aghast. The great teeth of the +animal closed upon a mouthful of the sacred vestments, and slowly he +lifted the preacher from the pulpit, like a handful of linen from a +washtub, and, on his four solemn stumps, bore him out of the temple, +dangling aloft from his jaws. At the back of it he dropped him into +the dust hole among the remnants of a library whose age had destroyed +its value in the eyes of the chapter. They found him burrowing in it, +a lunatic henceforth—whose madness presented the peculiar feature, +that in its paroxysms he jabbered sense. +</P> + +<P> +Bone-freezing horror pervaded Gwyntystorm. If their best and wisest +were treated with such contempt, what might not the rest of them look +for? Alas for their city! Their grandly respectable city! Their +loftily reasonable city! Where it was all to end, who could tell! +</P> + +<P> +But something must be done. Hastily assembling, the priests chose a +new first priest, and in full conclave unanimously declared and +accepted that the king in his retirement had, through the practice of +the blackest magic, turned the palace into a nest of demons in the +midst of them. A grand exorcism was therefore indispensable. +</P> + +<P> +In the meantime the fact came out that the greater part of the +courtiers had been dismissed as well as the servants, and this fact +swelled the hope of the Party of Decency, as they called themselves. +Upon it they proceeded to act, and strengthened themselves on all sides. +</P> + +<P> +The action of the king's bodyguard remained for a time uncertain. But +when at length its officers were satisfied that both the master of the +horse and their colonel were missing, they placed themselves under the +orders of the first priest. +</P> + +<P> +Every one dated the culmination of the evil from the visit of the miner +and his mongrel; and the butchers vowed, if they could but get hold of +them again, they would roast both of them alive. At once they formed +themselves into a regiment, and put their dogs in training for attack. +</P> + +<P> +Incessant was the talk, innumerable were the suggestions, and great was +the deliberation. The general consent, however, was that as soon as +the priests should have expelled the demons, they would depose the +king, and attired in all his regal insignia, shut him in a cage for +public show; then choose governors, with the lord chancellor at their +head, whose first duty should be to remit every possible tax; and the +magistrates, by the mouth of the city marshal, required all able-bodied +citizens, in order to do their part toward the carrying out of these +and a multitude of other reforms, to be ready to take arms at the first +summons. +</P> + +<P> +Things needful were prepared as speedily as possible, and a mighty +ceremony, in the temple, in the market place, and in front of the +palace, was performed for the expulsion of the demons. This over, the +leaders retired to arrange an attack upon the palace. +</P> + +<P> +But that night events occurred which, proving the failure of their +first, induced the abandonment of their second, intent. Certain of the +prowling order of the community, whose numbers had of late been +steadily on the increase, reported frightful things. Demons of +indescribable ugliness had been espied careering through the midnight +streets and courts. A citizen—some said in the very act of +housebreaking, but no one cared to look into trifles at such a +crisis—had been seized from behind, he could not see by what, and +soused in the river. A well-known receiver of stolen goods had had his +shop broken open, and when he came down in the morning had found +everything in ruin on the pavement. The wooden image of justice over +the door of the city marshal had had the arm that held the sword bitten +off. The gluttonous magistrate had been pulled from his bed in the +dark, by beings of which he could see nothing but the flaming eyes, and +treated to a bath of the turtle soup that had been left simmering by +the side of the kitchen fire. Having poured it over him, they put him +again into his bed, where he soon learned how a mummy must feel in its +cerements. +</P> + +<P> +Worst of all, in the market place was fixed up a paper, with the king's +own signature, to the effect that whoever henceforth should show +inhospitality to strangers, and should be convicted of the same, should +be instantly expelled the city; while a second, in the butchers' +quarter, ordained that any dog which henceforth should attack a +stranger should be immediately destroyed. It was plain, said the +butchers, that the clergy were of no use; they could not exorcise +demons! That afternoon, catching sight of a poor old fellow in rags +and tatters, quietly walking up the street, they hounded their dogs +upon him, and had it not been that the door of Derba's cottage was +standing open, and was near enough for him to dart in and shut it ere +they reached him, he would have been torn in pieces. +</P> + +<P> +And thus things went on for some days. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap29"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 29 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Barbara +</H3> + +<P> +In the meantime, with Derba to minister to his wants, with Curdie to +protect him, and Irene to nurse him, the king was getting rapidly +stronger. Good food was what he most wanted and of that, at least of +certain kinds of it, there was plentiful store in the palace. +Everywhere since the cleansing of the lower regions of it, the air was +clean and sweet, and under the honest hands of the one housemaid the +king's chamber became a pleasure to his eyes. With such changes it was +no wonder if his heart grew lighter as well as his brain clearer. +</P> + +<P> +But still evil dreams came and troubled him, the lingering result of +the wicked medicines the doctor had given him. Every night, sometimes +twice or thrice, he would wake up in terror, and it would be minutes +ere he could come to himself. The consequence was that he was always +worse in the morning, and had loss to make up during the day. While he +slept, Irene or Curdie, one or the other, must still be always by his +side. +</P> + +<P> +One night, when it was Curdie's turn with the king, he heard a cry +somewhere in the house, and as there was no other child, concluded, +notwithstanding the distance of her grandmother's room, that it must be +Barbara. Fearing something might be wrong, and noting the king's sleep +more quiet than usual, he ran to see. He found the child in the middle +of the floor, weeping bitterly, and Derba slumbering peacefully in bed. +The instant she saw him the night-lost thing ceased her crying, smiled, +and stretched out her arms to him. Unwilling to wake the old woman, +who had been working hard all day, he took the child, and carried her +with him. She clung to him so, pressing her tear-wet radiant face +against his, that her little arms threatened to choke him. +</P> + +<P> +When he re-entered the chamber, he found the king sitting up in bed, +fighting the phantoms of some hideous dream. Generally upon such +occasions, although he saw his watcher, he could not dissociate him +from the dream, and went raving on. But the moment his eyes fell upon +little Barbara, whom he had never seen before, his soul came into them +with a rush, and a smile like the dawn of an eternal day overspread his +countenance; the dream was nowhere, and the child was in his heart. He +stretched out his arms to her, the child stretched out hers to him, and +in five minutes they were both asleep, each in the other's embrace. +</P> + +<P> +From that night Barbara had a crib in the king's chamber, and as often +as he woke, Irene or Curdie, whichever was watching, took the sleeping +child and laid her in his arms, upon which, invariably and instantly, +the dream would vanish. A great part of the day too she would be +playing on or about the king's bed; and it was a delight to the heart +of the princess to see her amusing herself with the crown, now sitting +upon it, now rolling it hither and thither about the room like a hoop. +Her grandmother entering once while she was pretending to make porridge +in it, held up her hands in horror-struck amazement; but the king would +not allow her to interfere, for the king was now Barbara's playmate, +and his crown their plaything. +</P> + +<P> +The colonel of the guard also was growing better. Curdie went often to +see him. They were soon friends, for the best people understand each +other the easiest, and the grim old warrior loved the miner boy as if +he were at once his son and his angel. He was very anxious about his +regiment. He said the officers were mostly honest men, he believed, +but how they might be doing without him, or what they might resolve, in +ignorance of the real state of affairs, and exposed to every +misrepresentation, who could tell? Curdie proposed that he should send +for the major, offering to be the messenger. The colonel agreed, and +Curdie went—not without his mattock, because of the dogs. +</P> + +<P> +But the officers had been told by the master of the horse that their +colonel was dead, and although they were amazed he should be buried +without the attendance of his regiment, they never doubted the +information. The handwriting itself of their colonel was insufficient, +counteracted by the fresh reports daily current, to destroy the lie. +The major regarded the letter as a trap for the next officer in +command, and sent his orderly to arrest the messenger. But Curdie had +had the wisdom not to wait for an answer. +</P> + +<P> +The king's enemies said that he had first poisoned the good colonel of +the guard, and then murdered the master of the horse, and other +faithful councillors; and that his oldest and most attached domestics +had but escaped from the palace with their lives—not all of them, for +the butler was missing. Mad or wicked, he was not only unfit to rule +any longer, but worse than unfit to have in his power and under his +influence the young princess, only hope of Gwyntystorm and the kingdom. +</P> + +<P> +The moment the lord chancellor reached his house in the country and had +got himself clothed, he began to devise how yet to destroy his master; +and the very next morning set out for the neighbouring kingdom of +Borsagrass to invite invasion, and offer a compact with its monarch. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap30"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 30 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Peter +</H3> + +<P> +At the cottage in the mountain everything for a time went on just as +before. It was indeed dull without Curdie, but as often as they looked +at the emerald it was gloriously green, and with nothing to fear or +regret, and everything to hope, they required little comforting. One +morning, however, at last, Peter, who had been consulting the gem, +rather now from habit than anxiety, as a farmer his barometer in +undoubtful weather, turned suddenly to his wife, the stone in his hand, +and held it up with a look of ghastly dismay. +</P> + +<P> +'Why, that's never the emerald!' said Joan. +</P> + +<P> +'It is,' answered Peter; 'but it were small blame to any one that took +it for a bit of bottle glass!' +</P> + +<P> +For, all save one spot right in the centre, of intensest and most +brilliant green, it looked as if the colour had been burnt out of it. +</P> + +<P> +'Run, run, Peter!' cried his wife. 'Run and tell the old princess. It +may not be too late. The boy must be lying at death's door.' +</P> + +<P> +Without a word Peter caught up his mattock, darted from the cottage, +and was at the bottom of the hill in less time than he usually took to +get halfway. +</P> + +<P> +The door of the king's house stood open; he rushed in and up the stair. +But after wandering about in vain for an hour, opening door after door, +and finding no way farther up, the heart of the old man had well-nigh +failed him. Empty rooms, empty rooms!—desertion and desolation +everywhere. +</P> + +<P> +At last he did come upon the door to the tower stair. Up he darted. +Arrived at the top, he found three doors, and, one after the other, +knocked at them all. But there was neither voice nor hearing. Urged +by his faith and his dread, slowly, hesitatingly, he opened one. It +revealed a bare garret room, nothing in it but one chair and one +spinning wheel. He closed it, and opened the next—to start back in +terror, for he saw nothing but a great gulf, a moonless night, full of +stars, and, for all the stars, dark, dark!—a fathomless abyss. He +opened the third door, and a rush like the tide of a living sea invaded +his ears. Multitudinous wings flapped and flashed in the sun, and, +like the ascending column from a volcano, white birds innumerable shot +into the air, darkening the day with the shadow of their cloud, and +then, with a sharp sweep, as if bent sideways by a sudden wind, flew +northward, swiftly away, and vanished. The place felt like a tomb. +There seemed no breath of life left in it. +</P> + +<P> +Despair laid hold upon him; he rushed down thundering with heavy feet. +Out upon him darted the housekeeper like an ogress-spider, and after +her came her men; but Peter rushed past them, heedless and +careless—for had not the princess mocked him?—and sped along the road +to Gwyntystorm. What help lay in a miner's mattock, a man's arm, a +father's heart, he would bear to his boy. +</P> + +<P> +Joan sat up all night waiting his return, hoping and hoping. The +mountain was very still, and the sky was clear; but all night long the +miner sped northward, and the heart of his wife was troubled. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap31"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 31 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Sacrifice +</H3> + +<P> +Things in the palace were in a strange condition: the king playing with +a child and dreaming wise dreams, waited upon by a little princess with +the heart of a queen, and a youth from the mines, who went nowhere, not +even into the king's chamber, without his mattock on his shoulder and a +horrible animal at his heels; in a room nearby the colonel of his +guard, also in bed, without a soldier to obey him; in six other rooms, +far apart, six miscreants, each watched by a beast-jailer; ministers to +them all, an old woman and a page; and in the wine cellar, forty-three +animals, creatures more grotesque than ever brain of man invented. +None dared approach its gates, and seldom one issued from them. +</P> + +<P> +All the dwellers in the city were united in enmity to the palace. It +swarmed with evil spirits, they said, whereas the evil spirits were in +the city, unsuspected. One consequence of their presence was that, +when the rumour came that a great army was on the march against +Gwyntystorm, instead of rushing to their defences, to make new gates, +free portcullises and drawbridges, and bar the river, each band flew +first to their treasures, burying them in their cellars and gardens, +and hiding them behind stones in their chimneys; and, next to +rebellion, signing an invitation to His Majesty of Borsagrass to enter +at their open gates, destroy their king, and annex their country to his +own. +</P> + +<P> +The straits of isolation were soon found in the palace: its invalids +were requiring stronger food, and what was to be done? For if the +butchers sent meat to the palace, was it not likely enough to be +poisoned? Curdie said to Derba he would think of some plan before +morning. +</P> + +<P> +But that same night, as soon as it was dark, Lina came to her master, +and let him understand she wanted to go out. He unlocked a little +private postern for her, left it so that she could push it open when +she returned, and told the crocodile to stretch himself across it +inside. Before midnight she came back with a young deer. +</P> + +<P> +Early the next morning the legserpent crept out of the wine cellar, +through the broken door behind, shot into the river, and soon appeared +in the kitchen with a splendid sturgeon. Every night Lina went out +hunting, and every morning Legserpent went out fishing, and both +invalids and household had plenty to eat. As to news, the page, in +plain clothes, would now and then venture out into the market place, +and gather some. +</P> + +<P> +One night he came back with the report that the army of the king of +Borsagrass had crossed the border. Two days after, he brought the news +that the enemy was now but twenty miles from Gwyntystorm. +</P> + +<P> +The colonel of the guard rose, and began furbishing his armour—but +gave it over to the page, and staggered across to the barracks, which +were in the next street. The sentry took him for a ghost or worse, ran +into the guardroom, bolted the door, and stopped his ears. The poor +colonel, who was yet hardly able to stand, crawled back despairing. +</P> + +<P> +For Curdie, he had already, as soon as the first rumour reached him, +resolved, if no other instructions came, and the king continued unable +to give orders, to call Lina and the creatures, and march to meet the +enemy. If he died, he died for the right, and there was a right end of +it. He had no preparations to make, except a good sleep. +</P> + +<P> +He asked the king to let the housemaid take his place by His Majesty +that night, and went and lay down on the floor of the corridor, no +farther off than a whisper would reach from the door of the chamber. +There, with an old mantle of the king's thrown over him, he was soon +fast asleep. +</P> + +<P> +Somewhere about the middle of the night, he woke suddenly, started to +his feet, and rubbed his eyes. He could not tell what had waked him. +But could he be awake, or was he not dreaming? The curtain of the +king's door, a dull red ever before, was glowing a gorgeous, a radiant +purple; and the crown wrought upon it in silks and gems was flashing as +if it burned! What could it mean? Was the king's chamber on fire? He +darted to the door and lifted the curtain. Glorious terrible sight! +</P> + +<P> +A long and broad marble table, that stood at one end of the room, had +been drawn into the middle of it, and thereon burned a great fire, of a +sort that Curdie knew—a fire of glowing, flaming roses, red and white. +In the midst of the roses lay the king, moaning, but motionless. Every +rose that fell from the table to the floor, someone, whom Curdie could +not plainly see for the brightness, lifted and laid burning upon the +king's face, until at length his face too was covered with the live +roses, and he lay all within the fire, moaning still, with now and then +a shuddering sob. +</P> + +<P> +And the shape that Curdie saw and could not see, wept over the king as +he lay in the fire, and often she hid her face in handfuls of her +shadowy hair, and from her hair the water of her weeping dropped like +sunset rain in the light of the roses. At last she lifted a great +armful of her hair, and shook it over the fire, and the drops fell from +it in showers, and they did not hiss in the flames, but there arose +instead as it were the sound of running brooks. +</P> + +<P> +And the glow of the red fire died away, and the glow of the white fire +grew grey, and the light was gone, and on the table all was +black—except the face of the king, which shone from under the burnt +roses like a diamond in the ashes of a furnace. +</P> + +<P> +Then Curdie, no longer dazzled, saw and knew the old princess. The +room was lighted with the splendour of her face, of her blue eyes, of +her sapphire crown. Her golden hair went streaming out from her +through the air till it went off in mist and light. She was large and +strong as a Titaness. She stooped over the table-altar, put her mighty +arms under the living sacrifice, lifted the king, as if he were but a +little child, to her bosom, walked with him up the floor, and laid him +in his bed. Then darkness fell. +</P> + +<P> +The miner boy turned silent away, and laid himself down again in the +corridor. An absolute joy filled his heart, his bosom, his head, his +whole body. All was safe; all was well. With the helve of his mattock +tight in his grasp, he sank into a dreamless sleep. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap32"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 32 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The King's Army +</H3> + +<P> +He woke like a giant refreshed with wine. +</P> + +<P> +When he went into the king's chamber, the housemaid sat where he had +left her, and everything in the room was as it had been the night +before, save that a heavenly odour of roses filled the air of it. He +went up to the bed. The king opened his eyes, and the soul of perfect +health shone out of them. Nor was Curdie amazed in his delight. +</P> + +<P> +'Is it not time to rise, Curdie?' said the king. +</P> + +<P> +'It is, Your Majesty. Today we must be doing,' answered Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'What must we be doing today, Curdie?' +</P> + +<P> +'Fighting, sire.' +</P> + +<P> +'Then fetch me my armour—that of plated steel, in the chest there. +You will find the underclothing with it.' +</P> + +<P> +As he spoke, he reached out his hand for his sword, which hung in the +bed before him, drew it, and examined the blade. +</P> + +<P> +'A little rusty!' he said, 'but the edge is there. We shall polish it +ourselves today—not on the wheel. Curdie, my son, I wake from a +troubled dream. A glorious torture has ended it, and I live. I know +now well how things are, but you shall explain them to me as I get on +my armour. No, I need no bath. I am clean. Call the colonel of the +guard.' +</P> + +<P> +In complete steel the old man stepped into the chamber. He knew it +not, but the old princess had passed through his room in the night. +</P> + +<P> +'Why, Sir Bronzebeard!' said the king, 'you are dressed before me! You +need no valet, old man, when there is battle in the wind!' +</P> + +<P> +'Battle, sire!' returned the colonel. 'Where then are our soldiers?' +</P> + +<P> +'Why, there and here,' answered the king, pointing to the colonel +first, and then to himself. 'Where else, man? The enemy will be upon +us ere sunset, if we be not upon him ere noon. What other thing was in +your brave brain when you donned your armour, friend?' +</P> + +<P> +'Your Majesty's orders, sire,' answered Sir Bronzebeard. +</P> + +<P> +The king smiled and turned to Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'And what was in yours, Curdie, for your first word was of battle?' +</P> + +<P> +'See, Your Majesty,' answered Curdie; 'I have polished my mattock. If +Your Majesty had not taken the command, I would have met the enemy at +the head of my beasts, and died in comfort, or done better.' +</P> + +<P> +'Brave boy!' said the king. 'He who takes his life in his hand is the +only soldier. You shall head your beasts today. Sir Bronzebeard, will +you die with me if need be?' +</P> + +<P> +'Seven times, my king,' said the colonel. +</P> + +<P> +'Then shall we win this battle!' said the king. 'Curdie, go and bind +securely the six, that we lose not their guards. Can you find me a +horse, think you, Sir Bronzebeard? Alas! they told me my white charger +was dead.' +</P> + +<P> +'I will go and fright the varletry with my presence, and secure, I +trust, a horse for Your Majesty, and one for myself.' +</P> + +<P> +'And look you, brother!' said the king; 'bring one for my miner boy +too, and a sober old charger for the princess, for she too must go to +the battle, and conquer with us.' +</P> + +<P> +'Pardon me, sire,' said Curdie; 'a miner can fight best on foot. I +might smite my horse dead under me with a missed blow. And besides +that, I must be near to my beasts.' +</P> + +<P> +'As you will,' said the king. 'Three horses then, Sir Bronzebeard.' +</P> + +<P> +The colonel departed, doubting sorely in his heart how to accoutre and +lead from the barrack stables three horses, in the teeth of his +revolted regiment. +</P> + +<P> +In the hall he met the housemaid. +</P> + +<P> +'Can you lead a horse?' he asked. +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, sir.' +</P> + +<P> +'Are you willing to die for the king?' +</P> + +<P> +'Yes, sir.' +</P> + +<P> +'Can you do as you are bid?' +</P> + +<P> +'I can keep on trying, sir.' +</P> + +<P> +'Come then. Were I not a man I would be a woman such as you.' +</P> + +<P> +When they entered the barrack yard, the soldiers scattered like autumn +leaves before a blast of winter. They went into the stable +unchallenged—and lo! in a stall, before the colonel's eyes, stood the +king's white charger, with the royal saddle and bridle hung high beside +him! +</P> + +<P> +'Traitorous thieves!' muttered the old man in his beard, and went along +the stalls, looking for his own black charger. Having found him, he +returned to saddle first the king's. But the maid had already the +saddle upon him, and so girt that the colonel could thrust no finger +tip between girth and skin. He left her to finish what she had so well +begun, and went and made ready his own. He then chose for the princess +a great red horse, twenty years old, which he knew to possess every +equine virtue. This and his own he led to the palace, and the maid led +the king's. +</P> + +<P> +The king and Curdie stood in the court, the king in full armour of +silvered steel, with a circlet of rubies and diamonds round his helmet. +He almost leaped for joy when he saw his great white charger come in, +gentle as a child to the hand of the housemaid. But when the horse saw +his master in his armour, he reared and bounded in jubilation, yet did +not break from the hand that held him. Then out came the princess +attired and ready, with a hunting knife her father had given her by her +side. They brought her mother's saddle, splendent with gems and gold, +set it on the great red horse, and lifted her to it. But the saddle +was so big, and the horse so tall, that the child found no comfort in +them. +</P> + +<P> +'Please, King Papa,' she said, 'can I not have my white pony?' +</P> + +<P> +'I did not think of him, little one,' said the king. 'Where is he?' +</P> + +<P> +'In the stable,' answered the maid. 'I found him half starved, the +only horse within the gates, the day after the servants were driven +out. He has been well fed since.' +</P> + +<P> +'Go and fetch him,' said the king. +</P> + +<P> +As the maid appeared with the pony, from a side door came Lina and the +forty-nine, following Curdie. +</P> + +<P> +'I will go with Curdie and the Uglies,' cried the princess; and as soon +as she was mounted she got into the middle of the pack. +</P> + +<P> +So out they set, the strangest force that ever went against an enemy. +The king in silver armour sat stately on his white steed, with the +stones flashing on his helmet; beside him the grim old colonel, armed +in steel, rode his black charger; behind the king, a little to the +right, Curdie walked afoot, his mattock shining in the sun; Lina +followed at his heel; behind her came the wonderful company of Uglies; +in the midst of them rode the gracious little Irene, dressed in blue, +and mounted on the prettiest of white ponies; behind the colonel, a +little to the left, walked the page, armed in a breastplate, headpiece, +and trooper's sword he had found in the palace, all much too big for +him, and carrying a huge brass trumpet which he did his best to blow; +and the king smiled and seemed pleased with his music, although it was +but the grunt of a brazen unrest. Alongside the beasts walked Derba +carrying Barbara—their refuge the mountains, should the cause of the +king be lost; as soon as they were over the river they turned aside to +ascend the Cliff, and there awaited the forging of the day's history. +Then first Curdie saw that the housemaid, whom they had all forgotten, +was following, mounted on the great red horse, and seated in the royal +saddle. +</P> + +<P> +Many were the eyes unfriendly of women that had stared at them from +door and window as they passed through the city; and low laughter and +mockery and evil words from the lips of children had rippled about +their ears; but the men were all gone to welcome the enemy, the +butchers the first, the king's guard the last. And now on the heels of +the king's army rushed out the women and children also, to gather +flowers and branches, wherewith to welcome their conquerors. +</P> + +<P> +About a mile down the river, Curdie, happening to look behind him, saw +the maid, whom he had supposed gone with Derba, still following on the +great red horse. The same moment the king, a few paces in front of +him, caught sight of the enemy's tents, pitched where, the cliffs +receding, the bank of the river widened to a little plain. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap33"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 33 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The Battle +</H3> + +<P> +He commanded the page to blow his trumpet; and, in the strength of the +moment, the youth uttered a right warlike defiance. +</P> + +<P> +But the butchers and the guard, who had gone over armed to the enemy, +thinking that the king had come to make his peace also, and that it +might thereafter go hard with them, rushed at once to make short work +with him, and both secure and commend themselves. The butchers came on +first—for the guards had slackened their saddle girths—brandishing +their knives, and talking to their dogs. Curdie and the page, with Lina +and her pack, bounded to meet them. Curdie struck down the foremost +with his mattock. The page, finding his sword too much for him, threw +it away and seized the butcher's knife, which as he rose he plunged +into the foremost dog. Lina rushed raging and gnashing among them. She +would not look at a dog so long as there was a butcher on his legs, and +she never stopped to kill a butcher, only with one grind of her jaws +crushed a leg of him. When they were all down, then indeed she flashed +among the dogs. +</P> + +<P> +Meantime the king and the colonel had spurred toward the advancing +guard. The king clove the major through skull and collar bone, and the +colonel stabbed the captain in the throat. Then a fierce combat +commenced—two against many. But the butchers and their dogs quickly +disposed of, up came Curdie and his beasts. The horses of the guard, +struck with terror, turned in spite of the spur, and fled in confusion. +</P> + +<P> +Thereupon the forces of Borsagrass, which could see little of the +affair, but correctly imagined a small determined body in front of +them, hastened to the attack. No sooner did their first advancing wave +appear through the foam of the retreating one, than the king and the +colonel and the page, Curdie and the beasts, went charging upon them. +Their attack, especially the rush of the Uglies, threw the first line +into great confusion, but the second came up quickly; the beasts could +not be everywhere, there were thousands to one against them, and the +king and his three companions were in the greatest possible danger. +</P> + +<P> +A dense cloud came over the sun, and sank rapidly toward the earth. The +cloud moved all together, and yet the thousands of white flakes of +which it was made up moved each for itself in ceaseless and rapid +motion: those flakes were the wings of pigeons. Down swooped the birds +upon the invaders; right in the face of man and horse they flew with +swift-beating wings, blinding eyes and confounding brain. Horses +reared and plunged and wheeled. All was at once in confusion. The men +made frantic efforts to seize their tormentors, but not one could they +touch; and they outdoubled them in numbers. Between every wild clutch +came a peck of beak and a buffet of pinion in the face. Generally the +bird would, with sharp-clapping wings, dart its whole body, with the +swiftness of an arrow, against its singled mark, yet so as to glance +aloft the same instant, and descend skimming; much as the thin stone, +shot with horizontal cast of arm, having touched and torn the surface +of the lake, ascends to skim, touch, and tear again. So mingled the +feathered multitude in the grim game of war. It was a storm in which +the wind was birds, and the sea men. And ever as each bird arrived at +the rear of the enemy, it turned, ascended, and sped to the front to +charge again. +</P> + +<P> +The moment the battle began, the princess's pony took fright, and +turned and fled. But the maid wheeled her horse across the road and +stopped him; and they waited together the result of the battle. +</P> + +<P> +And as they waited, it seemed to the princess right strange that the +pigeons, every one as it came to the rear, and fetched a compass to +gather force for the reattack, should make the head of her attendant on +the red horse the goal around which it turned; so that about them was +an unintermittent flapping and flashing of wings, and a curving, +sweeping torrent of the side-poised wheeling bodies of birds. Strange +also it seemed that the maid should be constantly waving her arm toward +the battle. And the time of the motion of her arm so fitted with the +rushes of birds, that it looked as if the birds obeyed her gesture, and +she was casting living javelins by the thousand against the enemy. The +moment a pigeon had rounded her head, it went off straight as bolt from +bow, and with trebled velocity. +</P> + +<P> +But of these strange things, others besides the princess had taken +note. From a rising ground whence they watched the battle in growing +dismay, the leaders of the enemy saw the maid and her motions, and, +concluding her an enchantress, whose were the airy legions humiliating +them, set spurs to their horses, made a circuit, outflanked the king, +and came down upon her. But suddenly by her side stood a stalwart old +man in the garb of a miner, who, as the general rode at her, sword in +hand, heaved his swift mattock, and brought it down with such force on +the forehead of his charger, that he fell to the ground like a log. +His rider shot over his head and lay stunned. Had not the great red +horse reared and wheeled, he would have fallen beneath that of the +general. +</P> + +<P> +With lifted sabre, one of his attendant officers rode at the miner. But +a mass of pigeons darted in the faces of him and his horse, and the +next moment he lay beside his commander. +</P> + +<P> +The rest of them turned and fled, pursued by the birds. +</P> + +<P> +'Ah, friend Peter!' said the maid; 'thou hast come as I told thee! +Welcome and thanks!' +</P> + +<P> +By this time the battle was over. The rout was general. The enemy +stormed back upon their own camp, with the beasts roaring in the midst +of them, and the king and his army, now reinforced by one, pursuing. +But presently the king drew rein. +</P> + +<P> +'Call off your hounds, Curdie, and let the pigeons do the rest,' he +shouted, and turned to see what had become of the princess. +</P> + +<P> +In full panic fled the invaders, sweeping down their tents, stumbling +over their baggage, trampling on their dead and wounded, ceaselessly +pursued and buffeted by the white-winged army of heaven. Homeward they +rushed the road they had come, straight for the borders, many dropping +from pure fatigue, and lying where they fell. And still the pigeons +were in their necks as they ran. At length to the eyes of the king and +his army nothing was visible save a dust cloud below, and a bird cloud +above. Before night the bird cloud came back, flying high over +Gwyntystorm. Sinking swiftly, it disappeared among the ancient roofs +of the palace. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap34"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 34 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Judgement +</H3> + +<P> +The king and his army returned, bringing with them one prisoner only, +the lord chancellor. Curdie had dragged him from under a fallen tent, +not by the hand of a man, but by the foot of a mule. +</P> + +<P> +When they entered the city, it was still as the grave. The citizens +had fled home. 'We must submit,' they cried, 'or the king and his +demons will destroy us.' The king rode through the streets in silence, +ill-pleased with his people. But he stopped his horse in the midst of +the market place, and called, in a voice loud and clear as the cry of a +silver trumpet, 'Go and find your own. Bury your dead, and bring home +your wounded.' Then he turned him gloomily to the palace. +</P> + +<P> +Just as they reached the gates, Peter, who, as they went, had been +telling his tale to Curdie, ended it with the words: +</P> + +<P> +'And so there I was, in the nick of time to save the two princesses!' +</P> + +<P> +'The two princesses, Father! The one on the great red horse was the +housemaid,' said Curdie, and ran to open the gates for the king. +</P> + +<P> +They found Derba returned before them, and already busy preparing them +food. The king put up his charger with his own hands, rubbed him down, +and fed him. +</P> + +<P> +When they had washed, and eaten and drunk, he called the colonel, and +told Curdie and the page to bring out the traitors and the beasts, and +attend him to the market place. +</P> + +<P> +By this time the people were crowding back into the city, bearing their +dead and wounded. And there was lamentation in Gwyntystorm, for no one +could comfort himself, and no one had any to comfort him. The nation +was victorious, but the people were conquered. +</P> + +<P> +The king stood in the centre of the market place, upon the steps of the +ancient cross. He had laid aside his helmet and put on his crown, but +he stood all armed beside, with his sword in his hand. He called the +people to him, and, for all the terror of the beasts, they dared not +disobey him. Those, even, who were carrying their wounded laid them +down, and drew near trembling. +</P> + +<P> +Then the king said to Curdie and the page: +</P> + +<P> +'Set the evil men before me.' +</P> + +<P> +He looked upon them for a moment in mingled anger and pity, then turned +to the people and said: +</P> + +<P> +'Behold your trust! Ye slaves, behold your leaders! I would have +freed you, but ye would not be free. Now shall ye be ruled with a rod +of iron, that ye may learn what freedom is, and love it and seek it. +These wretches I will send where they shall mislead you no longer.' +</P> + +<P> +He made a sign to Curdie, who immediately brought up the legserpent. +To the body of the animal they bound the lord chamberlain, speechless +with horror. The butler began to shriek and pray, but they bound him +on the back of Clubhead. One after another, upon the largest of the +creatures they bound the whole seven, each through the unveiling terror +looking the villain he was. Then said the king: +</P> + +<P> +'I thank you, my good beasts; and I hope to visit you ere long. Take +these evil men with you, and go to your place.' +</P> + +<P> +Like a whirlwind they were in the crowd, scattering it like dust. Like +hounds they rushed from the city, their burdens howling and raving. +</P> + +<P> +What became of them I have never heard. +</P> + +<P> +Then the king turned once more to the people and said, 'Go to your +houses'; nor vouchsafed them another word. They crept home like +chidden hounds. +</P> + +<P> +The king returned to the palace. He made the colonel a duke, and the +page a knight, and Peter he appointed general of all his mines. But to +Curdie he said: +</P> + +<P> +'You are my own boy, Curdie. My child cannot choose but love you, and +when you are grown up—if you both will—you shall marry each other, +and be king and queen when I am gone. Till then be the king's Curdie.' +</P> + +<P> +Irene held out her arms to Curdie. He raised her in his, and she +kissed him. +</P> + +<P> +'And my Curdie too!' she said. +</P> + +<P> +Thereafter the people called him Prince Conrad; but the king always +called him either just Curdie, or my miner boy. +</P> + +<P> +They sat down to supper, and Derba and the knight and the housemaid +waited, and Barbara sat at the king's left hand. The housemaid poured +out the wine; and as she poured for Curdie red wine that foamed in the +cup, as if glad to see the light whence it had been banished so long, +she looked him in the eyes. And Curdie started, and sprang from his +seat, and dropped on his knees, and burst into tears. And the maid +said with a smile, such as none but one could smile: +</P> + +<P> +'Did I not tell you, Curdie, that it might be you would not know me +when next you saw me?' +</P> + +<P> +Then she went from the room, and in a moment returned in royal purple, +with a crown of diamonds and rubies, from under which her hair went +flowing to the floor, all about her ruby-slippered feet. Her face was +radiant with joy, the joy overshadowed by a faint mist as of +unfulfilment. The king rose and kneeled on one knee before her. All +kneeled in like homage. Then the king would have yielded her his royal +chair. But she made them all sit down, and with her own hands placed +at the table seats for Derba and the page. Then in ruby crown and +royal purple she served them all. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap35"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER 35 +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +The End +</H3> + +<P> +The king sent Curdie out into his dominions to search for men and women +that had human hands. And many such he found, honest and true, and +brought them to his master. So a new and upright court was formed, and +strength returned to the nation. +</P> + +<P> +But the exchequer was almost empty, for the evil men had squandered +everything, and the king hated taxes unwillingly paid. Then came +Curdie and said to the king that the city stood upon gold. And the +king sent for men wise in the ways of the earth, and they built +smelting furnaces, and Peter brought miners, and they mined the gold, +and smelted it, and the king coined it into money, and therewith +established things well in the land. +</P> + +<P> +The same day on which he found his boy, Peter set out to go home. When +he told the good news to Joan, his wife, she rose from her chair and +said, 'Let us go.' And they left the cottage, and repaired to +Gwyntystorm. And on a mountain above the city they built themselves a +warm house for their old age, high in the clear air. +</P> + +<P> +As Peter mined one day, at the back of the king's wine Cellar, he broke +into a cavern crusted with gems, and much wealth flowed therefrom, and +the king used it wisely. +</P> + +<P> +Queen Irene—that was the right name of the old princess—was +thereafter seldom long absent from the palace. Once or twice when she +was missing, Barbara, who seemed to know of her sometimes when nobody +else had a notion whither she had gone, said she was with the dear old +Uglies in the wood. Curdie thought that perhaps her business might be +with others there as well. All the uppermost rooms in the palace were +left to her use, and when any one was in need of her help, up thither +he must go. But even when she was there, he did not always succeed in +finding her. She, however, always knew that such a one had been +looking for her. +</P> + +<P> +Curdie went to find her one day. As he ascended the last stair, to +meet him came the well-known scent of her roses; and when he opened the +door, lo! there was the same gorgeous room in which his touch had been +glorified by her fire! And there burned the fire—a huge heap of red +and white roses. Before the hearth stood the princess, an old +grey-haired woman, with Lina a little behind her, slowly wagging her +tail, and looking like a beast of prey that can hardly so long restrain +itself from springing as to be sure of its victim. The queen was +casting roses, more and more roses, upon the fire. At last she turned +and said, 'Now Lina!'—and Lina dashed burrowing into the fire. There +went up a black smoke and a dust, and Lina was never more seen in the +palace. +</P> + +<P> +Irene and Curdie were married. The old king died, and they were king +and queen. As long as they lived Gwyntystorm was a better city, and +good people grew in it. But they had no children, and when they died +the people chose a king. And the new king went mining and mining in +the rock under the city, and grew more and more eager after the gold, +and paid less and less heed to his people. Rapidly they sank toward +their old wickedness. But still the king went on mining, and coining +gold by the pailful, until the people were worse even than in the old +time. And so greedy was the king after gold, that when at last the ore +began to fail, he caused the miners to reduce the pillars which Peter +and they that followed him had left standing to bear the city. And +from the girth of an oak of a thousand years, they chipped them down to +that of a fir tree of fifty. +</P> + +<P> +One day at noon, when life was at its highest, the whole city fell with +a roaring crash. The cries of men and the shrieks of women went up +with its dust, and then there was a great silence. +</P> + +<P> +Where the mighty rock once towered, crowded with homes and crowned with +a palace, now rushes and raves a stone-obstructed rapid of the river. +All around spreads a wilderness of wild deer, and the very name of +Gwyntystorm had ceased from the lips of men. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Princess and the Curdie, by George MacDonald + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRINCESS AND THE CURDIE *** + +***** This file should be named 709-h.htm or 709-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/7/0/709/ + +Produced by Jo Churcher. 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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 Princess and the Curdie + +Author: George MacDonald + +Posting Date: September 27, 2008 [EBook #709] +Release Date: November, 1996 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRINCESS AND THE CURDIE *** + + + + +Produced by Jo Churcher. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + + + + +The Princess and Curdie + + +by + +George MacDonald + + + + +CONTENTS + + + 1 The Mountain + 2 The White Pigeon + 3 The Mistress of the Silver Moon + 4 Curdie's Father and Mother + 5 The Miners + 6 The Emerald + 7 What Is in a Name? + 8 Curdie's Mission + 9 Hands + 10 The Heath + 11 Lina + 12 More Creatures + 13 The Baker's Wife + 14 The Dogs of Gwyntystorm + 15 Derba and Barbara + 16 The Mattock + 17 The Wine Cellar + 18 The King's Kitchen + 19 The King's Chamber + 20 Counterplotting + 21 The Loaf + 22 The Lord Chamberlain + 23 Dr Kelman + 24 The Prophecy + 25 The Avengers + 26 The Vengeance + 27 More Vengeance + 28 The Preacher + 29 Barbara + 30 Peter + 31 The Sacrifice + 32 The King's Army + 33 The Battle + 34 Judgement + 35 The End + + + + +CHAPTER 1 + +The Mountain + +Curdie was the son of Peter the miner. He lived with his father and +mother in a cottage built on a mountain, and he worked with his father +inside the mountain. + +A mountain is a strange and awful thing. In old times, without knowing +so much of their strangeness and awfulness as we do, people were yet +more afraid of mountains. But then somehow they had not come to see +how beautiful they are as well as awful, and they hated them--and what +people hate they must fear. Now that we have learned to look at them +with admiration, perhaps we do not feel quite awe enough of them. To +me they are beautiful terrors. + +I will try to tell you what they are. They are portions of the heart +of the earth that have escaped from the dungeon down below, and rushed +up and out. For the heart of the earth is a great wallowing mass, not +of blood, as in the hearts of men and animals, but of glowing hot, +melted metals and stones. And as our hearts keep us alive, so that +great lump of heat keeps the earth alive: it is a huge power of buried +sunlight--that is what it is. + +Now think: out of that cauldron, where all the bubbles would be as big +as the Alps if it could get room for its boiling, certain bubbles have +bubbled out and escaped--up and away, and there they stand in the cool, +cold sky--mountains. Think of the change, and you will no more wonder +that there should be something awful about the very look of a mountain: +from the darkness--for where the light has nothing to shine upon, much +the same as darkness--from the heat, from the endless tumult of boiling +unrest--up, with a sudden heavenward shoot, into the wind, and the +cold, and the starshine, and a cloak of snow that lies like ermine +above the blue-green mail of the glaciers; and the great sun, their +grandfather, up there in the sky; and their little old cold aunt, the +moon, that comes wandering about the house at night; and everlasting +stillness, except for the wind that turns the rocks and caverns into a +roaring organ for the young archangels that are studying how to let out +the pent-up praises of their hearts, and the molten music of the +streams, rushing ever from the bosoms of the glaciers fresh born. + +Think, too, of the change in their own substance--no longer molten and +soft, heaving and glowing, but hard and shining and cold. Think of the +creatures scampering over and burrowing in it, and the birds building +their nests upon it, and the trees growing out of its sides, like hair +to clothe it, and the lovely grass in the valleys, and the gracious +flowers even at the very edge of its armour of ice, like the rich +embroidery of the garment below, and the rivers galloping down the +valleys in a tumult of white and green! And along with all these, +think of the terrible precipices down which the traveller may fall and +be lost, and the frightful gulfs of blue air cracked in the glaciers, +and the dark profound lakes, covered like little arctic oceans with +floating lumps of ice. + +All this outside the mountain! But the inside, who shall tell what +lies there? Caverns of awfullest solitude, their walls miles thick, +sparkling with ores of gold or silver, copper or iron, tin or mercury, +studded perhaps with precious stones--perhaps a brook, with eyeless +fish in it, running, running ceaselessly, cold and babbling, through +banks crusted with carbuncles and golden topazes, or over a gravel of +which some of the stones arc rubies and emeralds, perhaps diamonds and +sapphires--who can tell?--and whoever can't tell is free to think--all +waiting to flash, waiting for millions of ages--ever since the earth +flew off from the sun, a great blot of fire, and began to cool. + +Then there are caverns full of water, numbingly cold, fiercely +hot--hotter than any boiling water. From some of these the water +cannot get out, and from others it runs in channels as the blood in the +body: little veins bring it down from the ice above into the great +caverns of the mountain's heart, whence the arteries let it out again, +gushing in pipes and clefts and ducts of all shapes and kinds, through +and through its bulk, until it springs newborn to the light, and rushes +down the Mountainside in torrents, and down the valleys in +rivers--down, down, rejoicing, to the mighty lungs of the world, that +is the sea, where it is tossed in storms and cyclones, heaved up in +billows, twisted in waterspouts, dashed to mist upon rocks, beaten by +millions of tails, and breathed by millions of gills, whence at last, +melted into vapour by the sun, it is lifted up pure into the air, and +borne by the servant winds back to the mountaintops and the snow, the +solid ice, and the molten stream. + +Well, when the heart of the earth has thus come rushing up among her +children, bringing with it gifts of all that she possesses, then +straightway into it rush her children to see what they can find there. +With pickaxe and spade and crowbar, with boring chisel and blasting +powder, they force their way back: is it to search for what toys they +may have left in their long-forgotten nurseries? Hence the mountains +that lift their heads into the clear air, and are dotted over with the +dwellings of men, are tunnelled and bored in the darkness of their +bosoms by the dwellers in the houses which they hold up to the sun and +air. + +Curdie and his father were of these: their business was to bring to +light hidden things; they sought silver in the rock and found it, and +carried it out. Of the many other precious things in their mountain +they knew little or nothing. Silver ore was what they were sent to +find, and in darkness and danger they found it. But oh, how sweet was +the air on the mountain face when they came out at sunset to go home to +wife and mother! They did breathe deep then! + +The mines belonged to the king of the country, and the miners were his +servants, working under his overseers and officers. He was a real +king--that is, one who ruled for the good of his people and not to +please himself, and he wanted the silver not to buy rich things for +himself, but to help him to govern the country, and pay the ones that +defended it from certain troublesome neighbours, and the judges whom he +set to portion out righteousness among the people, that so they might +learn it themselves, and come to do without judges at all. Nothing +that could be got from the heart of the earth could have been put to +better purposes than the silver the king's miners got for him. There +were people in the country who, when it came into their hands, degraded +it by locking it up in a chest, and then it grew diseased and was +called mammon, and bred all sorts of quarrels; but when first it left +the king's hands it never made any but friends, and the air of the +world kept it clean. + +About a year before this story began, a series of very remarkable +events had just ended. I will narrate as much of them as will serve to +show the tops of the roots of my tree. + +Upon the mountain, on one of its many claws, stood a grand old house, +half farmhouse, half castle, belonging to the king; and there his only +child, the Princess Irene, had been brought up till she was nearly nine +years old, and would doubtless have continued much longer, but for the +strange events to which I have referred. + +At that time the hollow places of the mountain were inhabited by +creatures called goblins, who for various reasons and in various ways +made themselves troublesome to all, but to the little princess +dangerous. Mainly by the watchful devotion and energy of Curdie, +however, their designs had been utterly defeated, and made to recoil +upon themselves to their own destruction, so that now there were very +few of them left alive, and the miners did not believe there was a +single goblin remaining in the whole inside of the mountain. + +The king had been so pleased with the boy--then approaching thirteen +years of age--that when he carried away his daughter he asked him to +accompany them; but he was still better pleased with him when he found +that he preferred staying with his father and mother. He was a right +good king and knew that the love of a boy who would not leave his +father and mother to be made a great man was worth ten thousand offers +to die for his sake, and would prove so when the right time came. As +for his father and mother, they would have given him up without a +grumble, for they were just as good as the king, and he and they +understood each other perfectly; but in this matter, not seeing that he +could do anything for the king which one of his numerous attendants +could not do as well, Curdie felt that it was for him to decide. So +the king took a kind farewell of them all and rode away, with his +daughter on his horse before him. + +A gloom fell upon the mountain and the miners when she was gone, and +Curdie did not whistle for a whole week. As for his verses, there was +no occasion to make any now. He had made them only to drive away the +goblins, and they were all gone--a good riddance--only the princess was +gone too! He would rather have had things as they were, except for the +princess's sake. But whoever is diligent will soon be cheerful, and +though the miners missed the household of the castle, they yet managed +to get on without them. Peter and his wife, however, were troubled with +the fancy that they had stood in the way of their boy's good fortune. +It would have been such a fine thing for him and them, too, they +thought, if he had ridden with the good king's train. How beautiful he +looked, they said, when he rode the king's own horse through the river +that the goblins had sent out of the hill! He might soon have been a +captain, they did believe! The good, kind people did not reflect that +the road to the next duty is the only straight one, or that, for their +fancied good, we should never wish our children or friends to do what +we would not do ourselves if we were in their position. We must accept +righteous sacrifices as well as make them. + + + +CHAPTER 2 + +The White Pigeon + +When in the winter they had had their supper and sat about the fire, or +when in the summer they lay on the border of the rock-margined stream +that ran through their little meadow close by the door of their +cottage, issuing from the far-up whiteness often folded in clouds, +Curdie's mother would not seldom lead the conversation to one peculiar +personage said and believed to have been much concerned in the late +issue of events. + +That personage was the great-great-grandmother of the princess, of whom +the princess had often talked, but whom neither Curdie nor his mother +had ever seen. Curdie could indeed remember, although already it +looked more like a dream than he could account for if it had really +taken place, how the princess had once led him up many stairs to what +she called a beautiful room in the top of the tower, where she went +through all the--what should he call it?--the behaviour of presenting +him to her grandmother, talking now to her and now to him, while all +the time he saw nothing but a bare garret, a heap of musty straw, a +sunbeam, and a withered apple. Lady, he would have declared before the +king himself, young or old, there was none, except the princess +herself, who was certainly vexed that he could not see what she at +least believed she saw. + +As for his mother, she had once seen, long before Curdie was born, a +certain mysterious light of the same description as one Irene spoke of, +calling it her grandmother's moon; and Curdie himself had seen this +same light, shining from above the castle, just as the king and +princess were taking their leave. Since that time neither had seen or +heard anything that could be supposed connected with her. Strangely +enough, however, nobody had seen her go away. If she was such an old +lady, she could hardly be supposed to have set out alone and on foot +when all the house was asleep. Still, away she must have gone, for, of +course, if she was so powerful, she would always be about the princess +to take care of her. + +But as Curdie grew older, he doubted more and more whether Irene had +not been talking of some dream she had taken for reality: he had heard +it said that children could not always distinguish betwixt dreams and +actual events. At the same time there was his mother's testimony: what +was he to do with that? His mother, through whom he had learned +everything, could hardly be imagined by her own dutiful son to have +mistaken a dream for a fact of the waking world. + +So he rather shrank from thinking about it, and the less he thought +about it, the less he was inclined to believe it when he did think +about it, and therefore, of course, the less inclined to talk about it +to his father and mother; for although his father was one of those men +who for one word they say think twenty thoughts, Curdie was well +assured that he would rather doubt his own eyes than his wife's +testimony. + +There were no others to whom he could have talked about it. The miners +were a mingled company--some good, some not so good, some rather +bad--none of them so bad or so good as they might have been; Curdie +liked most of them, and was a favourite with all; but they knew very +little about the upper world, and what might or might not take place +there. They knew silver from copper ore; they understood the +underground ways of things, and they could look very wise with their +lanterns in their hands searching after this or that sign of ore, or +for some mark to guide their way in the hollows of the earth; but as to +great-great-grandmothers, they would have mocked Curdie all the rest of +his life for the absurdity of not being absolutely certain that the +solemn belief of his father and mother was nothing but ridiculous +nonsense. Why, to them the very word 'great-great-grandmother' would +have been a week's laughter! I am not sure that they were able quite +to believe there were such persons as great-great-grandmothers; they +had never seen one. They were not companions to give the best of help +toward progress, and as Curdie grew, he grew at this time faster in +body than in mind--with the usual consequence, that he was getting +rather stupid--one of the chief signs of which was that he believed +less and less in things he had never seen. At the same time I do not +think he was ever so stupid as to imagine that this was a sign of +superior faculty and strength of mind. Still, he was becoming more and +more a miner, and less and less a man of the upper world where the wind +blew. On his way to and from the mine he took less and less notice of +bees and butterflies, moths and dragonflies, the flowers and the brooks +and the clouds. He was gradually changing into a commonplace man. + +There is this difference between the growth of some human beings and +that of others: in the one case it is a continuous dying, in the other +a continuous resurrection. One of the latter sort comes at length to +know at once whether a thing is true the moment it comes before him; +one of the former class grows more and more afraid of being taken in, +so afraid of it that he takes himself in altogether, and comes at +length to believe in nothing but his dinner: to be sure of a thing with +him is to have it between his teeth. + +Curdie was not in a very good way, then, at that time. His father and +mother had, it is true, no fault to find with him and yet--and +yet--neither of them was ready to sing when the thought of him came up. +There must be something wrong when a mother catches herself sighing +over the time when her boy was in petticoats, or a father looks sad +when he thinks how he used to carry him on his shoulder. The boy +should enclose and keep, as his life, the old child at the heart of +him, and never let it go. He must still, to be a right man, be his +mother's darling, and more, his father's pride, and more. The child is +not meant to die, but to be forever fresh born. + +Curdie had made himself a bow and some arrows, and was teaching himself +to shoot with them. One evening in the early summer, as he was walking +home from the mine with them in his hand, a light flashed across his +eyes. He looked, and there was a snow-white pigeon settling on a rock +in front of him, in the red light of the level sun. There it fell at +once to work with one of its wings, in which a feather or two had got +some sprays twisted, causing a certain roughness unpleasant to the +fastidious creature of the air. + +It was indeed a lovely being, and Curdie thought how happy it must be +flitting through the air with a flash--a live bolt of light. For a +moment he became so one with the bird that he seemed to feel both its +bill and its feathers, as the one adjusted the other to fly again, and +his heart swelled with the pleasure of its involuntary sympathy. +Another moment and it would have been aloft in the waves of rosy +light--it was just bending its little legs to spring: that moment it +fell on the path broken-winged and bleeding from Curdie's cruel arrow. + +With a gush of pride at his skill, and pleasure at his success, he ran +to pick up his prey. I must say for him he picked it up +gently--perhaps it was the beginning of his repentance. But when he +had the white thing in his hands its whiteness stained with another red +than that of the sunset flood in which it had been revelling--ah God! +who knows the joy of a bird, the ecstasy of a creature that has neither +storehouse nor barn!--when he held it, I say, in his victorious hands, +the winged thing looked up in his face--and with such eyes!--asking +what was the matter, and where the red sun had gone, and the clouds, +and the wind of its flight. Then they closed, but to open again +presently, with the same questions in them. + +And as they closed and opened, their look was fixed on his. It did not +once flutter or try to get away; it only throbbed and bled and looked +at him. Curdie's heart began to grow very large in his bosom. What +could it mean? It was nothing but a pigeon, and why should he not kill +a pigeon? But the fact was that not till this very moment had he ever +known what a pigeon was. A good many discoveries of a similar kind +have to be made by most of us. Once more it opened its eyes--then +closed them again, and its throbbing ceased. Curdie gave a sob: its +last look reminded him of the princess--he did not know why. He +remembered how hard he had laboured to set her beyond danger, and yet +what dangers she had had to encounter for his sake: they had been +saviours to each other--and what had he done now? He had stopped +saving, and had begun killing! What had he been sent into the world +for? Surely not to be a death to its joy and loveliness. He had done +the thing that was contrary to gladness; he was a destroyer! He was +not the Curdie he had been meant to be! + +Then the underground waters gushed from the boy's heart. And with the +tears came the remembrance that a white pigeon, just before the +princess went away with her father, came from somewhere--yes, from the +grandmother's lamp, and flew round the king and Irene and himself, and +then flew away: this might be that very pigeon! Horrible to think! And +if it wasn't, yet it was a white pigeon, the same as this. And if she +kept a great Many pigeons--and white ones, as Irene had told him, then +whose pigeon could he have killed but the grand old princess's? + +Suddenly everything round about him seemed against him. The red sunset +stung him; the rocks frowned at him; the sweet wind that had been +laving his face as he walked up the hill dropped--as if he wasn't fit +to be kissed any more. Was the whole world going to cast him out? +Would he have to stand there forever, not knowing what to do, with the +dead pigeon in his hand? Things looked bad indeed. Was the whole +world going to make a work about a pigeon--a white pigeon? The sun +went down. Great clouds gathered over the west, and shortened the +twilight. The wind gave a howl, and then lay down again. The clouds +gathered thicker. Then came a rumbling. He thought it was thunder. +It was a rock that fell inside the mountain. A goat ran past him down +the hill, followed by a dog sent to fetch him home. He thought they +were goblin creatures, and trembled. He used to despise them. And +still he held the dead pigeon tenderly in his hand. + +It grew darker and darker. An evil something began to move in his +heart. 'What a fool I am!' he said to himself. Then he grew angry, +and was just going to throw the bird from him and whistle, when a +brightness shone all round him. He lifted his eyes, and saw a great +globe of light--like silver at the hottest heat: he had once seen +silver run from the furnace. It shone from somewhere above the roofs +of the castle: it must be the great old princess's moon! How could she +be there? Of course she was not there! He had asked the whole +household, and nobody knew anything about her or her globe either. It +couldn't be! And yet what did that signify, when there was the white +globe shining, and here was the dead white bird in his hand? That +moment the pigeon gave a little flutter. 'It's not dead!' cried +Curdie, almost with a shriek. The same instant he was running full +speed toward the castle, never letting his heels down, lest he should +shake the poor, wounded bird. + + + +CHAPTER 3 + +The Mistress of the Silver Moon + +When Curdie reached the castle, and ran into the little garden in front +of it, there stood the door wide open. This was as he had hoped, for +what could he have said if he had had to knock at it? Those whose +business it is to open doors, so often mistake and shut them! But the +woman now in charge often puzzled herself greatly to account for the +strange fact that however often she shut the door, which, like the +rest, she took a great deal of unnecessary trouble to do, she was +certain, the next time she went to it, to find it open. I speak now of +the great front door, of course: the back door she as persistently kept +wide: if people could only go in by that, she said, she would then know +what sort they were, and what they wanted. But she would neither have +known what sort Curdie was, nor what he wanted, and would assuredly +have denied him admittance, for she knew nothing of who was in the +tower. So the front door was left open for him, and in he walked. + +But where to go next he could not tell. It was not quite dark: a dull, +shineless twilight filled the place. All he knew was that he must go +up, and that proved enough for the present, for there he saw the great +staircase rising before him. When he reached the top of it, he knew +there must be more stairs yet, for he could not be near the top of the +tower. Indeed by the situation of the stairs, he must be a good way +from the tower itself. But those who work well in the depths more +easily understand the heights, for indeed in their true nature they are +one and the same; miners are in mountains; and Curdie, from knowing the +ways of the king's mines, and being able to calculate his whereabouts +in them, was now able to find his way about the king's house. He knew +its outside perfectly, and now his business was to get his notion of +the inside right with the outside. + +So he shut his eyes and made a picture of the outside of it in his +mind. Then he came in at the door of the picture, and yet kept the +picture before him all the time--for you can do that kind of thing in +your mind--and took every turn of the stair over again, always watching +to remember, every time he turned his face, how the tower lay, and then +when he came to himself at the top where he stood, he knew exactly +where it was, and walked at once in the right direction. + +On his way, however, he came to another stair, and up that he went, of +course, watching still at every turn how the tower must lie. At the +top of this stair was yet another--they were the stairs up which the +princess ran when first, without knowing it, she was on her way to find +her great-great-grandmother. At the top of the second stair he could +go no farther, and must therefore set out again to find the tower, +which, as it rose far above the rest of the house, must have the last +of its stairs inside itself. + +Having watched every turn to the very last, he still knew quite well in +what direction he must go to find it, so he left the stair and went +down a passage that led, if not exactly toward it, yet nearer it. This +passage was rather dark, for it was very long, with only one window at +the end, and although there were doors on both sides of it, they were +all shut. At the distant window glimmered the chill east, with a few +feeble stars in it, and its like was dreary and old, growing brown, and +looking as if it were thinking about the day that was just gone. +Presently he turned into another passage, which also had a window at +the end of it; and in at that window shone all that was left of the +sunset, just a few ashes, with here and there a little touch of warmth: +it was nearly as sad as the east, only there was one difference--it was +very plainly thinking of tomorrow. + +But at present Curdie had nothing to do with today or tomorrow; his +business was with the bird, and the tower where dwelt the grand old +princess to whom it belonged. So he kept on his way, still eastward, +and came to yet another passage, which brought him to a door. He was +afraid to open it without first knocking. He knocked, but heard no +answer. He was answered nevertheless; for the door gently opened, and +there was a narrow stair--and so steep that, big lad as he was, he, +too, like the Princess Irene before him, found his hands needful for +the climbing. And it was a long climb, but he reached the top at +last--a little landing, with a door in front and one on each side. +Which should he knock at? + +As he hesitated, he heard the noise of a spinning wheel. He knew it at +once, because his mother's spinning wheel had been his governess long +ago, and still taught him things. It was the spinning wheel that first +taught him to make verses, and to sing, and to think whether all was +right inside him; or at least it had helped him in all these things. +Hence it was no wonder he should know a spinning wheel when he heard it +sing--even although as the bird of paradise to other birds was the song +of that wheel to the song of his mother's. + +He stood listening, so entranced that he forgot to knock, and the wheel +went on and on, spinning in his brain songs and tales and rhymes, till +he was almost asleep as well as dreaming, for sleep does not always +come first. But suddenly came the thought of the poor bird, which had +been lying motionless in his hand all the time, and that woke him up, +and at once he knocked. + +'Come in, Curdie,' said a voice. + +Curdie shook. It was getting rather awful. The heart that had never +much heeded an army of goblins trembled at the soft word of invitation. +But then there was the red-spotted white thing in his hand! He dared +not hesitate, though. Gently he opened the door through which the +sound came, and what did he see? Nothing at first--except indeed a +great sloping shaft of moonlight that came in at a high window, and +rested on the floor. He stood and stared at it, forgetting to shut the +door. + +'Why don't you come in, Curdie?' said the voice. 'Did you never see +moonlight before?' + +'Never without a moon,' answered Curdie, in a trembling tone, but +gathering courage. + +'Certainly not,' returned the voice, which was thin and quavering: 'I +never saw moonlight without a moon.' + +'But there's no moon outside,' said Curdie. + +'Ah! but you're inside now,' said the voice. + +The answer did not satisfy Curdie; but the voice went on. + +'There are more moons than you know of, Curdie. Where there is one sun +there are many moons--and of many sorts. Come in and look out of my +window, and you will soon satisfy yourself that there is a moon looking +in at it.' + +The gentleness of the voice made Curdie remember his manners. He shut +the door, and drew a step or two nearer to the moonlight. + +All the time the sound of the spinning had been going on and on, and +Curdie now caught sight of the wheel. Oh, it was such a thin, delicate +thing--reminding him of a spider's web in a hedge. It stood in the +middle of the moonlight, and it seemed as if the moonlight had nearly +melted it away. A step nearer, he saw, with a start, two little hands +at work with it. And then at last, in the shadow on the other side of +the moonlight which came like silver between, he saw the form to which +the hands belonged: a small withered creature, so old that no age would +have seemed too great to write under her picture, seated on a stool +beyond the spinning wheel, which looked very large beside her, but, as +I said, very thin, like a long-legged spider holding up its own web, +which was the round wheel itself She sat crumpled together, a filmy +thing that it seemed a puff would blow away, more like the body of a +fly the big spider had sucked empty and left hanging in his web, than +anything else I can think of. + +When Curdie saw her, he stood still again, a good deal in wonder, a +very little in reverence, a little in doubt, and, I must add, a little +in amusement at the odd look of the old marvel. Her grey hair mixed +with the moonlight so that he could not tell where the one began and +the other ended. Her crooked back bent forward over her chest, her +shoulders nearly swallowed up her head between them, and her two little +hands were just like the grey claws of a hen, scratching at the thread, +which to Curdie was of course invisible across the moonlight. Indeed +Curdie laughed within himself, just a little, at the sight; and when he +thought of how the princess used to talk about her huge, great, old +grandmother, he laughed more. But that moment the little lady leaned +forward into the moonlight, and Curdie caught a glimpse of her eyes, +and all the laugh went out of him. + +'What do you come here for, Curdie?' she said, as gently as before. + +Then Curdie remembered that he stood there as a culprit, and worst of +all, as one who had his confession yet to make. There was no time to +hesitate over it. + +'Oh, ma'am! See here,' he said, and advanced a step or two, holding +out the pigeon. + +'What have you got there?' she asked. + +Again Curdie advanced a few steps, and held out his hand with the +pigeon, that she might see what it was, into the moonlight. The moment +the rays fell upon it the pigeon gave a faint flutter. The old lady +put out her old hands and took it, and held it to her bosom, and rocked +it, murmuring over it as if it were a sick baby. + +When Curdie saw how distressed she was he grew sorrier still, and said: + +'I didn't mean to do any harm, ma'am. I didn't think of its being +yours.' + +'Ah, Curdie! If it weren't mine, what would become of it now?' she +returned. 'You say you didn't mean any harm: did you mean any good, +Curdie?' + +'No,' answered Curdie. + +'Remember, then, that whoever does not mean good is always in danger of +harm. But I try to give everybody fair play; and those that are in the +wrong are in far more need of it always than those who are in the +right: they can afford to do without it. Therefore I say for you that +when you shot that arrow you did not know what a pigeon is. Now that +you do know, you are sorry. It is very dangerous to do things you +don't know about.' + +'But, please, ma'am--I don't mean to be rude or to contradict you,' +said Curdie, 'but if a body was never to do anything but what he knew +to be good, he would have to live half his time doing nothing.' + +'There you are much mistaken,' said the old quavering voice. 'How +little you must have thought! Why, you don't seem even to know the +good of the things you are constantly doing. Now don't mistake me. I +don't mean you are good for doing them. It is a good thing to eat your +breakfast, but you don't fancy it's very good of you to do it. The +thing is good, not you.' + +Curdie laughed. + +'There are a great many more good things than bad things to do. Now +tell me what bad thing you have done today besides this sore hurt to my +little white friend.' + +While she talked Curdie had sunk into a sort of reverie, in which he +hardly knew whether it was the old lady or his own heart that spoke. +And when she asked him that question, he was at first much inclined to +consider himself a very good fellow on the whole. 'I really don't +think I did anything else that was very bad all day,' he said to +himself. But at the same time he could not honestly feel that he was +worth standing up for. All at once a light seemed to break in upon his +mind, and he woke up and there was the withered little atomy of the old +lady on the other side of the moonlight, and there was the spinning +wheel singing on and on in the middle of it! + +'I know now, ma'am; I understand now,' he said. 'Thank you, ma'am, for +spinning it into me with your wheel. I see now that I have been doing +wrong the whole day, and such a many days besides! Indeed, I don't know +when I ever did right, and yet it seems as if I had done right some +time and had forgotten how. When I killed your bird I did not know I +was doing wrong, just because I was always doing wrong, and the wrong +had soaked all through me.' + +'What wrong were you doing all day, Curdie? It is better to come to +the point, you know,' said the old lady, and her voice was gentler even +than before. + +'I was doing the wrong of never wanting or trying to be better. And now +I see that I have been letting things go as they would for a long time. +Whatever came into my head I did, and whatever didn't come into my head +I didn't do. I never sent anything away, and never looked out for +anything to come. I haven't been attending to my mother--or my father +either. And now I think of it, I know I have often seen them looking +troubled, and I have never asked them what was the matter. And now I +see, too, that I did not ask because I suspected it had something to do +with me and my behaviour, and didn't want to hear the truth. And I +know I have been grumbling at my work, and doing a hundred other things +that are wrong.' + +'You have got it, Curdie,' said the old lady, in a voice that sounded +almost as if she had been crying. 'When people don't care to be better +they must be doing everything wrong. I am so glad you shot my bird!' + +'Ma'am!' exclaimed Curdie. 'How can you be?' + +'Because it has brought you to see what sort you were when you did it, +and what sort you will grow to be again, only worse, if you don't mind. +Now that you are sorry, my poor bird will be better. Look up, my dovey.' + +The pigeon gave a flutter, and spread out one of its red-spotted wings +across the old woman's bosom. + +'I will mend the little angel,' she said, 'and in a week or two it will +be flying again. So you may ease your heart about the pigeon.' + +'Oh, thank you! Thank you!' cried Curdie. 'I don't know how to thank +you.' + +'Then I will tell you. There is only one way I care for. Do better, +and grow better, and be better. And never kill anything without a good +reason for it.' + +'Ma'am, I will go and fetch my bow and arrows, and you shall burn them +yourself.' + +'I have no fire that would burn your bow and arrows, Curdie.' + +'Then I promise you to burn them all under my mother's porridge pot +tomorrow morning.' + +'No, no, Curdie. Keep them, and practice with them every day, and grow +a good shot. There are plenty of bad things that want killing, and a +day will come when they will prove useful. But I must see first +whether you will do as I tell you.' + +'That I will!' said Curdie. 'What is it, ma'am?' + +'Only something not to do,' answered the old lady; 'if you should hear +anyone speak about me, never to laugh or make fun of me.' + +'Oh, ma'am!' exclaimed Curdie, shocked that she should think such a +request needful. + +'Stop, stop,' she went on. 'People hereabout sometimes tell very odd +and in fact ridiculous stories of an old woman who watches what is +going on, and occasionally interferes. They mean me, though what they +say is often great nonsense. Now what I want of you is not to laugh, +or side with them in any way; because they will take that to mean that +you don't believe there is any such person a bit more than they do. +Now that would not be the case--would it, Curdie?' + +'No, indeed, ma'am. I've seen you.' + +The old woman smiled very oddly. + +'Yes, you've seen me,' she said. 'But mind,' she continued, 'I don't +want you to say anything--only to hold your tongue, and not seem to +side with them.' + +'That will be easy,'said Curdie,'now that I've seen you with my very +own eyes, ma'am.' + +'Not so easy as you think, perhaps,' said the old lady, with another +curious smile. 'I want to be your friend,' she added after a little +pause, 'but I don't quite know yet whether you will let me.' + +'Indeed I will, ma'am,' said Curdie. + +'That is for me to find out,' she rejoined, with yet another strange +smile. 'In the meantime all I can say is, come to me again when you +find yourself in any trouble, and I will see what I can do for +you--only the canning depends on yourself. I am greatly pleased with +you for bringing me my pigeon, doing your best to set right what you +had set wrong.' + +As she spoke she held out her hand to him, and when he took it she made +use of his to help herself up from her stool, and--when or how it came +about, Curdie could not tell--the same instant she stood before him a +tall, strong woman--plainly very old, but as grand as she was old, and +only rather severe-looking. Every trace of the decrepitude and +witheredness she showed as she hovered like a film about her wheel, had +vanished. Her hair was very white, but it hung about her head in great +plenty, and shone like silver in the moonlight. Straight as a pillar +she stood before the astonished boy, and the wounded bird had now +spread out both its wings across her bosom, like some great mystical +ornament of frosted silver. + +'Oh, now I can never forget you!' cried Curdie. 'I see now what you +really are!' + +'Did I not tell you the truth when I sat at my wheel?' said the old +lady. + +'Yes, ma'am,' answered Curdie. + +'I can do no more than tell you the truth now,' she rejoined. 'It is a +bad thing indeed to forget one who has told us the truth. Now go.' + +Curdie obeyed, and took a few steps toward the door. 'Please, +ma'am--what am I to call you?' he was going to say; but when he turned +to speak, he saw nobody. Whether she was there or not he could not +tell, however, for the moonlight had vanished, and the room was utterly +dark. A great fear, such as he had never before known, came upon him, +and almost overwhelmed him. He groped his way to the door, and crawled +down the stair--in doubt and anxiety as to how he should find his way +out of the house in the dark. And the stair seemed ever so much longer +than when he came up. Nor was that any wonder, for down and down he +went, until at length his foot struck a door, and when he rose and +opened it, he found himself under the starry, moonless sky at the foot +of the tower. + +He soon discovered the way out of the garden, with which he had some +acquaintance already, and in a few minutes was climbing the mountain +with a solemn and cheerful heart. It was rather dark, but he knew the +way well. As he passed the rock from which the poor pigeon fell +wounded with his arrow, a great joy filled his heart at the thought +that he was delivered from the blood of the little bird, and he ran the +next hundred yards at full speed up the hill. Some dark shadows passed +him: he did not even care to think what they were, but let them run. +When he reached home, he found his father and mother waiting supper for +him. + + + +CHAPTER 4 + +Curdie's Father and Mother + +The eyes of the fathers and mothers are quick to read their children's +looks, and when Curdie entered the cottage, his parents saw at once +that something unusual had taken place. When he said to his mother, 'I +beg your pardon for being so late,' there was something in the tone +beyond the politeness that went to her heart, for it seemed to come +from the place where all lovely things were born before they began to +grow in this world. When he set his father's chair to the table, an +attention he had not shown him for a long time, Peter thanked him with +more gratitude than the boy had ever yet felt in all his life. It was +a small thing to do for the man who had been serving him since ever he +was born, but I suspect there is nothing a man can be so grateful for +as that to which he has the most right. + +There was a change upon Curdie, and father and mother felt there must +be something to account for it, and therefore were pretty sure he had +something to tell them. For when a child's heart is all right, it is +not likely he will want to keep anything from his parents. But the +story of the evening was too solemn for Curdie to come out with all at +once. He must wait until they had had their porridge, and the affairs +of this world were over for the day. + +But when they were seated on the grassy bank of the brook that went so +sweetly blundering over the great stones of its rocky channel, for the +whole meadow lay on the top of a huge rock, then he felt that the right +hour had come for sharing with them the wonderful things that had come +to him. It was perhaps the loveliest of all hours in the year. The +summer was young and soft, and this was the warmest evening they had +yet had--dusky, dark even below, while above, the stars were bright and +large and sharp in the blackest blue sky. The night came close around +them, clasping them in one universal arm of love, and although it +neither spoke nor smiled, seemed all eye and ear, seemed to see and +hear and know everything they said and did. It is a way the night has +sometimes, and there is a reason for it. The only sound was that of +the brook, for there was no wind, and no trees for it to make its music +upon if there had been, for the cottage was high up on the mountain, on +a great shoulder of stone where trees would not grow. + +There, to the accompaniment of the water, as it hurried down to the +valley and the sea, talking busily of a thousand true things which it +could not understand, Curdie told his tale, outside and in, to his +father and mother. What a world had slipped in between the mouth of +the mine and his mother's cottage! Neither of them said a word until +he had ended. + +'Now what am I to make of it, Mother? it's so strange!' he said, and +stopped. + +'It's easy enough to see what Curdie has got to make of it, isn't it, +Peter?' said the good woman, turning her face toward all she could see +of her husband's. + +'It seems so to me,' answered Peter, with a smile which only the night +saw, but his wife felt in the tone of his words. They were the +happiest couple in that country, because they always understood each +other, and that was because they always meant the same thing, and that +was because they always loved what was fair and true and right better, +not than anything else, but than everything else put together. + +'Then will you tell Curdie?' said she. + +'You can talk best, Joan,' said he. 'You tell him, and I will +listen--and learn how to say what I think,' he added. + +'I,' said Curdie, 'don't know what to think.' + +'It does not matter so much,' said his mother. 'If only you know what +to make of a thing, you'll know soon enough what to think of it. Now I +needn't tell you, surely, Curdie, what you've got to do with this?' + +'I suppose you mean, Mother,' answered Curdie, 'that I must do as the +old lady told me?' + +'That is what I mean: what else could it be? Am I not right, Peter?' + +'Quite right, Joan,' answered Peter, 'so far as my judgement goes. It +is a very strange story, but you see the question is not about +believing it, for Curdie knows what came to him.' + +'And you remember, Curdie,' said his mother, 'that when the princess +took you up that tower once before, and there talked to her +great-great-grandmother, you came home quite angry with her, and said +there was nothing in the place but an old tub, a heap of straw--oh, I +remember your inventory quite well!--an old tub, a heap of straw, a +withered apple, and a sunbeam. According to your eyes, that was all +there was in the great, old, musty garret. But now you have had a +glimpse of the old princess herself!' + +'Yes, Mother, I did see her--or if I didn't--' said Curdie very +thoughtfully--then began again. 'The hardest thing to believe, though +I saw it with my own eyes, was when the thin, filmy creature that +seemed almost to float about in the moonlight like a bit of the silver +paper they put over pictures, or like a handkerchief made of spider +threads, took my hand, and rose up. She was taller and stronger than +you, Mother, ever so much!--at least, she looked so.' + +'And most certainly was so, Curdie, if she looked so,' said Mrs +Peterson. + +'Well, I confess,' returned her son, 'that one thing, if there were no +other, would make me doubt whether I was not dreaming, after all, wide +awake though I fancied myself to be.' + +'Of course,' answered his mother, 'it is not for me to say whether you +were dreaming or not if you are doubtful of it yourself; but it doesn't +make me think I am dreaming when in the summer I hold in my hand the +bunch of sweet peas that make my heart glad with their colour and +scent, and remember the dry, withered-looking little thing I dibbled +into the hole in the same spot in the spring. I only think how +wonderful and lovely it all is. It seems just as full of reason as it +is of wonder. How it is done I can't tell, only there it is! And +there is this in it, too, Curdie--of which you would not be so ready to +think--that when you come home to your father and mother, and they find +you behaving more like a dear, good son than you have behaved for a +long time, they at least are not likely to think you were only +dreaming.' + +'Still,' said Curdie, looking a little ashamed, 'I might have dreamed +my duty.' + +'Then dream often, my son; for there must then be more truth in your +dreams than in your waking thoughts. But however any of these things +may be, this one point remains certain: there can be no harm in doing +as she told you. And, indeed, until you are sure there is no such +person, you are bound to do it, for you promised.' + +'It seems to me,' said his father, 'that if a lady comes to you in a +dream, Curdie, and tells you not to talk about her when you wake, the +least you can do is to hold your tongue.' + +'True, Father! Yes, Mother, I'll do it,' said Curdie. + +Then they went to bed, and sleep, which is the night of the soul, next +took them in its arms and made them well. + + + +CHAPTER 5 + +The Miners + +It much increased Curdie's feeling of the strangeness of the whole +affair, that, the next morning, when they were at work in the mine, the +party of which he and his father were two, just as if they had known +what had happened to him the night before, began talking about all +manner of wonderful tales that were abroad in the country, chiefly, of +course, those connected with the mines, and the mountains in which they +lay. Their wives and mothers and grandmothers were their chief +authorities. For when they sat by their firesides they heard their +wives telling their children the selfsame tales, with little +differences, and here and there one they had not heard before, which +they had heard their mothers and grandmothers tell in one or other of +the same cottages. + +At length they came to speak of a certain strange being they called Old +Mother Wotherwop. Some said their wives had seen her. It appeared as +they talked that not one had seen her more than once. Some of their +mothers and grandmothers, however, had seen her also, and they all had +told them tales about her when they were children. They said she could +take any shape she liked, but that in reality she was a withered old +woman, so old and so withered that she was as thin as a sieve with a +lamp behind it; that she was never seen except at night, and when +something terrible had taken place, or was going to take place--such as +the falling in of the roof of a mine, or the breaking out of water in +it. + +She had more than once been seen--it was always at night--beside some +well, sitting on the brink of it, and leaning over and stirring it with +her forefinger, which was six times as long as any of the rest. And +whoever for months after drank of that well was sure to be ill. To +this, one of them, however, added that he remembered his mother saying +that whoever in bad health drank of the well was sure to get better. +But the majority agreed that the former was the right version of the +story--for was she not a witch, an old hating witch, whose delight was +to do mischief? One said he had heard that she took the shape of a +young woman sometimes, as beautiful as an angel, and then was most +dangerous of all, for she struck every man who looked upon her +stone-blind. + +Peter ventured the question whether she might not as likely be an angel +that took the form of an old woman, as an old woman that took the form +of an angel. But nobody except Curdie, who was holding his peace with +all his might, saw any sense in the question. They said an old woman +might be very glad to make herself look like a young one, but who ever +heard of a young and beautiful one making herself look old and ugly? + +Peter asked why they were so much more ready to believe the bad that +was said of her than the good. They answered, because she was bad. He +asked why they believed her to be bad, and they answered, because she +did bad things. When he asked how they knew that, they said, because +she was a bad creature. Even if they didn't know it, they said, a +woman like that was so much more likely to be bad than good. Why did +she go about at night? Why did she appear only now and then, and on +such occasions? One went on to tell how one night when his grandfather +had been having a jolly time of it with his friends in the market town, +she had served him so upon his way home that the poor man never drank a +drop of anything stronger than water after it to the day of his death. +She dragged him into a bog, and tumbled him up and down in it till he +was nearly dead. + +'I suppose that was her way of teaching him what a good thing water +was,' said Peter; but the man, who liked strong drink, did not see the +joke. + +'They do say,' said another, 'that she has lived in the old house over +there ever since the little princess left it. They say too that the +housekeeper knows all about it, and is hand and glove with the old +witch. I don't doubt they have many a nice airing together on +broomsticks. But I don't doubt either it's all nonsense, and there's +no such person at all.' + +'When our cow died,' said another, 'she was seen going round and round +the cowhouse the same night. To be sure she left a fine calf behind +her--I mean the cow did, not the witch. I wonder she didn't kill that, +too, for she'll be a far finer cow than ever her mother was.' + +'My old woman came upon her one night, not long before the water broke +out in the mine, sitting on a stone on the hillside with a whole +congregation of cobs about her. When they saw my wife they all +scampered off as fast as they could run, and where the witch was +sitting there was nothing to be seen but a withered bracken bush. I +made no doubt myself she was putting them up to it.' + +And so they went on with one foolish tale after another, while Peter +put in a word now and then, and Curdie diligently held his peace. But +his silence at last drew attention upon it, and one of them said: + +'Come, young Curdie, what are you thinking of?' + +'How do you know I'm thinking of anything?' asked Curdie. + +'Because you're not saying anything.' + +'Does it follow then that, as you are saying so much, you're not +thinking at all?' said Curdie. + +'I know what he's thinking,' said one who had not yet spoken; 'he's +thinking what a set of fools you are to talk such rubbish; as if ever +there was or could be such an old woman as you say! I'm sure Curdie +knows better than all that comes to.' + +'I think,' said Curdie, 'it would be better that he who says anything +about her should be quite sure it is true, lest she should hear him, +and not like to be slandered.' + +'But would she like it any better if it were true?' said the same man. +'If she is What they say--I don't know--but I never knew a man that +wouldn't go in a rage to be called the very thing he was.' + +'If bad things were true of her, and I knew it,' said Curdie, 'I would +not hesitate to say them, for I will never give in to being afraid of +anything that's bad. I suspect that the things they tell, however, if +we knew all about them, would turn out to have nothing but good in +them; and I won't say a word more for fear I should say something that +mightn't be to her mind.' + +They all burst into a loud laugh. + +'Hear the parson!' they cried. 'He believes in the witch! Ha! ha!' + +'He's afraid of her!' + +'And says all she does is good!' + +'He wants to make friends with her, that she may help him to find the +silver ore.' + +'Give me my own eyes and a good divining rod before all the witches in +the world! And so I'd advise you too, Master Curdie; that is, when +your eyes have grown to be worth anything, and you have learned to cut +the hazel fork.' + +Thus they all mocked and jeered at him, but he did his best to keep his +temper and go quietly on with his work. He got as close to his father +as he could, however, for that helped him to bear it. As soon as they +were tired of laughing and mocking, Curdie was friendly with them, and +long before their midday meal all between them was as it had been. + +But when the evening came, Peter and Curdie felt that they would rather +walk home together without other company, and therefore lingered behind +when the rest of the men left the mine. + + + +CHAPTER 6 + +The Emerald + +Father and son had seated themselves on a projecting piece of rock at a +corner where three galleries met--the one they had come along from +their work, one to the right leading out of the mountain, and the other +to the left leading far into a portion of it which had been long +disused. Since the inundation caused by the goblins, it had indeed +been rendered impassable by the settlement of a quantity of the water, +forming a small but very deep lake, in a part where there was a +considerable descent. + +They had just risen and were turning to the right, when a gleam caught +their eyes, and made them look along the whole gallery. Far up they +saw a pale green light, whence issuing they could not tell, about +halfway between floor and roof of the passage. They saw nothing but +the light, which was like a large star, with a point of darker colour +yet brighter radiance in the heart of it, whence the rest of the light +shot out in rays that faded toward the ends until they vanished. It +shed hardly any light around it, although in itself it was so bright as +to sting the eyes that beheld it. Wonderful stories had from ages gone +been current in the mines about certain magic gems which gave out light +of themselves, and this light looked just like what might be supposed +to shoot from the heart of such a gem. + +They went up the old gallery to find out what it could be. To their +surprise they found, however, that, after going some distance, they +were no nearer to it, so far as they could judge, than when they +started. It did not seem to move, and yet they moving did not approach +it. Still they persevered, for it was far too wonderful a thing to +lose sight of, so long as they could keep it. At length they drew near +the hollow where the water lay, and still were no nearer the light. +Where they expected to be stopped by the water, however, water was +none: something had taken place in some part of the mine that had +drained it off, and the gallery lay open as in former times. + +And now, to their surprise, the light, instead of being in front of +them, was shining at the same distance to the right, where they did not +know there was any passage at all. Then they discovered, by the light +of the lanterns they carried, that there the water had broken through, +and made an entrance to a part of the mountain of which Peter knew +nothing. But they were hardly well into it, still following the light, +before Curdie thought he recognized some of the passages he had so +often gone through when he was watching the goblins. + +After they had advanced a long way, with many turnings, now to the +right, now to the left, all at once their eyes seemed to come suddenly +to themselves, and they became aware that the light which they had +taken to be a great way from them was in reality almost within reach of +their hands. + +The same instant it began to grow larger and thinner, the point of +light grew dim as it spread, the greenness melted away, and in a moment +or two, instead of the star, a dark, dark and yet luminous face was +looking at them with living eyes. And Curdie felt a great awe swell up +in his heart, for he thought he had seen those eyes before. + +'I see you know me, Curdie,' said a voice. + +'If your eyes are you, ma'am, then I know you,' said Curdie. 'But I +never saw your face before.' + +'Yes, you have seen it, Curdie,' said the voice. And with that the +darkness of its complexion melted away, and down from the face dawned +out the form that belonged to it, until at last Curdie and his father +beheld a lady, beautiful exceedingly, dressed in something pale green, +like velvet, over which her hair fell in cataracts of a rich golden +colour. It looked as if it were pouring down from her head, and, like +the water of the Dustbrook, vanishing in a golden vapour ere it reached +the floor. It came flowing from under the edge of a coronet of gold, +set with alternated pearls and emeralds. In front of the crown was a +great emerald, which looked somehow as if out of it had come the light +they had followed. There was no ornament else about her, except on her +slippers, which were one mass of gleaming emeralds, of various shades +of green, all mingling lovelily like the waving of grass in the wind +and sun. She looked about five-and-twenty years old. And for all the +difference, Curdie knew somehow or other, he could not have told how, +that the face before him was that of the old princess, Irene's +great-great-grandmother. + +By this time all around them had grown light, and now first they could +see where they were. They stood in a great splendid cavern, which +Curdie recognized as that in which the goblins held their state +assemblies. But, strange to tell, the light by which they saw came +streaming, sparkling, and shooting from stones of many colours in the +sides and roof and floor of the cavern--stones of all the colours of +the rainbow, and many more. It was a glorious sight--the whole rugged +place flashing with colours--in one spot a great light of deep +carbuncular red, in another of sapphirine blue, in another of topaz +yellow; while here and there were groups of stones of all hues and +sizes, and again nebulous spaces of thousands of tiniest spots of +brilliancy of every conceivable shade. Sometimes the colours ran +together, and made a little river or lake of lambent, interfusing, and +changing tints, which, by their variegation, seemed to imitate the +flowing of water, or waves made by the wind. + +Curdie would have gazed entranced, but that all the beauty of the +cavern, yes, of all he knew of the whole creation, seemed gathered in +one centre of harmony and loveliness in the person of the ancient lady +who stood before him in the very summer of beauty and strength. +Turning from the first glance at the circuadjacent splendour, it +dwindled into nothing as he looked again at the lady. Nothing flashed +or glowed or shone about her, and yet it was with a prevision of the +truth that he said, + +'I was here once before, ma'am.' + +'I know that, Curdie,' she replied. + +'The place was full of torches, and the walls gleamed, but nothing as +they do now, and there is no light in the place.' + +'You want to know where the light comes from?' she said, smiling. + +'Yes, ma'am.' + +'Then see: I will go out of the cavern. Do not be afraid, but watch.' + +She went slowly out. The moment she turned her back to go, the light +began to pale and fade; the moment she was out of their sight the place +was black as night, save that now the smoky yellow-red of their lamps, +which they thought had gone out long ago, cast a dusky glimmer around +them. + + + +CHAPTER 7 + +What Is in a Name? + +For a time that seemed to them long, the two men stood waiting, while +still the Mother of Light did not return. So long was she absent that +they began to grow anxious: how were they to find their way from the +natural hollows of the mountain crossed by goblin paths, if their lamps +should go out? To spend the night there would mean to sit and wait +until an earthquake rent the mountain, or the earth herself fell back +into the smelting furnace of the sun whence she had issued--for it was +all night and no faintest dawn in the bosom of the world. + +So long did they wait unrevisited, that, had there not been two of +them, either would at length have concluded the vision a home-born +product of his own seething brain. And their lamps were going out, for +they grew redder and smokier! But they did not lose courage, for there +is a kind of capillary attraction in the facing of two souls, that +lifts faith quite beyond the level to which either could raise it +alone: they knew that they had seen the lady of emeralds, and it was to +give them their own desire that she had gone from them, and neither +would yield for a moment to the half doubts and half dreads that awoke +in his heart. + +And still she who with her absence darkened their air did not return. +They grew weary, and sat down on the rocky floor, for wait they +would--indeed, wait they must. Each set his lamp by his knee, and +watched it die. Slowly it sank, dulled, looked lazy and stupid. But +ever as it sank and dulled, the image in his mind of the Lady of Light +grew stronger and clearer. Together the two lamps panted and +shuddered. First one, then the other went out, leaving for a moment a +great, red, evil-smelling snuff. Then all was the blackness of +darkness up to their very hearts and everywhere around them. Was it? +No. Far away--it looked miles away--shone one minute faint point of +green light--where, who could tell? They only knew that it shone. It +grew larger, and seemed to draw nearer, until at last, as they watched +with speechless delight and expectation, it seemed once more within +reach of an outstretched hand. Then it spread and melted away as +before, and there were eyes--and a face--and a lovely form--and lo! the +whole cavern blazing with lights innumerable, and gorgeous, yet soft +and interfused--so blended, indeed, that the eye had to search and see +in order to separate distinct spots of special colour. + +The moment they saw the speck in the vast distance they had risen and +stood on their feet. When it came nearer they bowed their heads. Yet +now they looked with fearless eyes, for the woman that was old yet +young was a joy to see, and filled their hearts with reverent delight. +She turned first to Peter. + +'I have known you long,' she said. 'I have met you going to and from +the mine, and seen you working in it for the last forty years.' + +'How should it be, madam, that a grand lady like you should take notice +of a poor man like me?' said Peter, humbly, but more foolishly than he +could then have understood. + +'I am poor as well as rich,' said she. 'I, too, work for my bread, and +I show myself no favour when I pay myself my own wages. Last night +when you sat by the brook, and Curdie told you about my pigeon, and my +spinning, and wondered whether he could believe that he had actually +seen me, I heard what you said to each other. I am always about, as +the miners said the other night when they talked of me as Old Mother +Wotherwop.' + +The lovely lady laughed, and her laugh was a lightning of delight in +their souls. + +'Yes,' she went on, 'you have got to thank me that you are so poor, +Peter. I have seen to that, and it has done well for both you and me, +my friend. Things come to the poor that can't get in at the door of +the rich. Their money somehow blocks it up. It is a great privilege +to be poor, Peter--one that no man ever coveted, and but a very few +have sought to retain, but one that yet many have learned to prize. +You must not mistake, however, and imagine it a virtue; it is but a +privilege, and one also that, like other privileges, may be terribly +misused. Had you been rich, my Peter, you would not have been so good +as some rich men I know. And now I am going to tell you what no one +knows but myself: you, Peter, and your wife both have the blood of the +royal family in your veins. I have been trying to cultivate your +family tree, every branch of which is known to me, and I expect Curdie +to turn out a blossom on it. Therefore I have been training him for a +work that must soon be done. I was near losing him, and had to send my +pigeon. Had he not shot it, that would have been better; but he +repented, and that shall be as good in the end.' + +She turned to Curdie and smiled. + +'Ma'am,' said Curdie, 'may I ask questions?' + +'Why not, Curdie?' + +'Because I have been told, ma'am, that nobody must ask the king +questions.' + +'The king never made that law,' she answered, with some displeasure. +'You may ask me as many as you please--that is, so long as they are +sensible. Only I may take a few thousand years to answer some of them. +But that's nothing. Of all things time is the cheapest.' + +'Then would you mind telling me now, ma'am, for I feel very confused +about it--are you the Lady of the Silver Moon?' + +'Yes, Curdie; you may call me that if you like. What it means is true.' + +'And now I see you dark, and clothed in green, and the mother of all +the light that dwells in the stones of the earth! And up there they +call you Old Mother Wotherwop! And the Princess Irene told me you were +her great-great-grandmother! And you spin the spider threads, and take +care of a whole people of pigeons; and you are worn to a pale shadow +with old age; and are as young as anybody can be, not to be too young; +and as strong, I do believe, as I am.' + +The lady stooped toward a large green stone bedded in the rock of the +floor, and looking like a well of grassy light in it. She laid hold of +it with her fingers, broke it out, and gave it to Peter. 'There!' cried +Curdie. 'I told you so. Twenty men could not have done that. And +your fingers are white and smooth as any lady's in the land. I don't +know what to make of it.' + +'I could give you twenty names more to call me, Curdie, and not one of +them would be a false one. What does it matter how many names if the +person is one?' + +'Ah! But it is not names only, ma'am. Look at what you were like last +night, and what I see you now!' + +'Shapes are only dresses, Curdie, and dresses are only names. That +which is inside is the same all the time.' + +'But then how can all the shapes speak the truth?' + +'It would want thousands more to speak the truth, Curdie; and then they +could not. But there is a point I must not let you mistake about. It +is one thing the shape I choose to put on, and quite another the shape +that foolish talk and nursery tale may please to put upon me. Also, it +is one thing what you or your father may think about me, and quite +another what a foolish or bad man may see in me. For instance, if a +thief were to come in here just now, he would think he saw the demon of +the mine, all in green flames, come to protect her treasure, and would +run like a hunted wild goat. I should be all the same, but his evil +eyes would see me as I was not.' + +'I think I understand,' said Curdie. + +'Peter,' said the lady, turning then to him, 'you will have to give up +Curdie for a little while.' + +'So long as he loves us, ma'am, that will not matter--much.' + +'Ah! you are right there, my friend,' said the beautiful princess. And +as she said it she put out her hand, and took the hard, horny hand of +the miner in it, and held it for a moment lovingly. + +'I need say no more,' she added, 'for we understand each other--you and +I, Peter.' + +The tears came into Peter's eyes. He bowed his head in thankfulness, +and his heart was much too full to speak. + +Then the great old, young, beautiful princess turned to Curdie. + +'Now, Curdie, are you ready?' she said. + +'Yes, ma'am,' answered Curdie. + +'You do not know what for.' + +'You do, ma'am. That is enough.' + +'You could not have given me a better answer, or done more to prepare +yourself, Curdie,' she returned, with one of her radiant smiles. 'Do +you think you will know me again?' + +'I think so. But how can I tell what you may look like next?' + +'Ah, that indeed! How can you tell? Or how could I expect you should? +But those who know me well, know me whatever new dress or shape or name +I may be in; and by and by you will have learned to do so too.' + +'But if you want me to know you again, ma'am, for certain sure,' said +Curdie, 'could you not give me some sign, or tell me something about +you that never changes--or some other way to know you, or thing to know +you by?' + +'No, Curdie; that would be to keep you from knowing me. You must know +me in quite another way from that. It would not be the least use to +you or me either if I were to make you know me in that way. It would be +but to know the sign of Me--not to know me myself. It would be no +better than if I were to take this emerald out of my crown and give it +to you to take home with you, and you were to call it me, and talk to +it as if it heard and saw and loved you. Much good that would do you, +Curdie! No; you must do what you can to know me, and if you do, you +will. You shall see me again in very different circumstances from +these, and, I will tell you so much, it may be in a very different +shape. But come now, I will lead you out of this cavern; my good Joan +will be getting too anxious about you. One word more: you will allow +that the men knew little what they were talking about this morning, +when they told all those tales of Old Mother Wotherwop; but did it +occur to you to think how it was they fell to talking about me at all? +It was because I came to them; I was beside them all the time they were +talking about me, though they were far enough from knowing it, and had +very little besides foolishness to say.' + +As she spoke she turned and led the way from the cavern, which, as if a +door had been closed, sank into absolute blackness behind them. And +now they saw nothing more of the lady except the green star, which +again seemed a good distance in front of them, and to which they came +no nearer, although following it at a quick pace through the mountain. +Such was their confidence in her guidance, however, and so fearless +were they in consequence, that they felt their way neither with hand +nor foot, but walked straight on through the pitch-dark galleries. +When at length the night of the upper world looked in at the mouth of +the mine, the green light seemed to lose its way among the stars, and +they saw it no more. + +Out they came into the cool, blessed night. It was very late, and only +starlight. To their surprise, three paces away they saw, seated upon a +stone, an old country-woman, in a cloak which they took for black. +When they came close up to it, they saw it was red. + +'Good evening!' said Peter. + +'Good evening!' returned the old woman, in a voice as old as herself. + +But Curdie took off his cap and said: + +'I am your servant, Princess.' + +The old woman replied: + +'Come to me in the dove tower tomorrow night, Curdie--alone.' + +'I will, ma'am,' said Curdie. + +So they parted, and father and son went home to wife and mother--two +persons in one rich, happy woman. + + + +CHAPTER 8 + +Curdie's Mission + +The next night Curdie went home from the mine a little earlier than +usual, to make himself tidy before going to the dove tower. The +princess had not appointed an exact time for him to be there; he would +go as near the time he had gone first as he could. On his way to the +bottom of the hill, he met his father coming up. The sun was then +down, and the warm first of the twilight filled the evening. He came +rather wearily up the hill: the road, he thought, must have grown +steeper in parts since he was Curdie's age. His back was to the light +of the sunset, which closed him all round in a beautiful setting, and +Curdie thought what a grand-looking man his father was, even when he +was tired. It is greed and laziness and selfishness, not hunger or +weariness or cold, that take the dignity out of a man, and make him +look mean. + +'Ah, Curdie! There you are!' he said, seeing his son come bounding +along as if it were morning with him and not evening. + +'You look tired, Father,' said Curdie. + +'Yes, my boy. I'm not so young as you.' + +'Nor so old as the princess,' said Curdie. + +'Tell me this,' said Peter, 'why do people talk about going downhill +when they begin to get old? It seems to me that then first they begin +to go uphill.' + +'You looked to me, Father, when I caught sight of you, as if you had +been climbing the hill all your life, and were soon to get to the top.' + +'Nobody can tell when that will be,' returned Peter. 'We're so ready +to think we're just at the top when it lies miles away. But I must not +keep you, my boy, for you are wanted; and we shall be anxious to know +what the princess says to you--that is, if she will allow you to tell +us.' + +'I think she will, for she knows there is nobody more to be trusted +than my father and mother,' said Curdie, with pride. + +And away he shot, and ran, and jumped, and seemed almost to fly down +the long, winding, steep path, until he came to the gate of the king's +house. + +There he met an unexpected obstruction: in the open door stood the +housekeeper, and she seemed to broaden herself out until she almost +filled the doorway. + +'So!' she said, 'it's you, is it, young man? You are the person that +comes in and goes out when he pleases, and keeps running up and down my +stairs without ever saying by your leave, or even wiping his shoes, and +always leaves the door open! Don't you know this is my house?' + +'No, I do not,' returned Curdie respectfully. 'You forget, ma'am, that +it is the king's house.' + +'That is all the same. The king left it to me to take care of--and +that you shall know!' + +'Is the king dead, ma'am, that he has left it to you?' asked Curdie, +half in doubt from the self-assertion of the woman. + +'Insolent fellow!' exclaimed the housekeeper. 'Don't you see by my +dress that I am in the king's service?' + +'And am I not one of his miners?' + +'Ah! that goes for nothing. I am one of his household. You are an +out-of-doors labourer. You are a nobody. You carry a pickaxe. I +carry the keys at my girdle. See!' + +'But you must not call one a nobody to whom the king has spoken,' said +Curdie. + +'Go along with you!' cried the housekeeper, and would have shut the +door in his face, had she not been afraid that when she stepped back he +would step in ere she could get it in motion, for it was very heavy and +always seemed unwilling to shut. Curdie came a pace nearer. She +lifted the great house key from her side, and threatened to strike him +down with it, calling aloud on Mar and Whelk and Plout, the menservants +under her, to come and help her. Ere one of them could answer, however, +she gave a great shriek and turned and fled, leaving the door wide open. + +Curdie looked behind him, and saw an animal whose gruesome oddity even +he, who knew so many of the strange creatures, two of which were never +the same, that used to live inside the mountain with their masters the +goblins, had never seen equalled. Its eyes were flaming with anger, +but it seemed to be at the housekeeper, for it came cowering and +creeping up and laid its head on the ground at Curdie's feet. Curdie +hardly waited to look at it, however, but ran into the house, eager to +get up the stairs before any of the men should come to annoy--he had no +fear of their preventing him. Without halt or hindrance, though the +passages were nearly dark, he reached the door of the princess's +workroom, and knocked. + +'Come in,' said the voice of the princess. + +Curdie opened the door--but, to his astonishment, saw no room there. +Could he have opened a wrong door? There was the great sky, and the +stars, and beneath he could see nothing only darkness! But what was +that in the sky, straight in front of him? A great wheel of fire, +turning and turning, and flashing out blue lights! + +'Come in, Curdie,' said the voice again. + +'I would at once, ma'am,' said Curdie, 'if I were sure I was standing +at your door.' + +'Why should you doubt it, Curdie?' + +'Because I see neither walls nor floor, only darkness and the great +sky.' + +'That is all right, Curdie. Come in.' + +Curdie stepped forward at once. He was indeed, for the very crumb of a +moment, tempted to feel before him with his foot; but he saw that would +be to distrust the princess, and a greater rudeness he could not offer +her. So he stepped straight in--I will not say without a little +tremble at the thought of finding no floor beneath his foot. But that +which had need of the floor found it, and his foot was satisfied. + +No sooner was he in than he saw that the great revolving wheel in the +sky was the princess's spinning wheel, near the other end of the room, +turning very fast. He could see no sky or stars any more, but the +wheel was flashing out blue--oh, such lovely sky-blue light!--and +behind it of course sat the princess, but whether an old woman as thin +as a skeleton leaf, or a glorious lady as young as perfection, he could +not tell for the turning and flashing of the wheel. + +'Listen to the wheel,' said the voice which had already grown dear to +Curdie: its very tone was precious like a jewel, not as a jewel, for no +jewel could compare with it in preciousness. + +And Curdie listened and listened. + +'What is it saying?' asked the voice. + +'It is singing,' answered Curdie. + +'What is it singing?' + +Curdie tried to make out, but thought he could not; for no sooner had +he got hold of something than it vanished again. + +Yet he listened, and listened, entranced with delight. + +'Thank you, Curdie, said the voice. + +'Ma'am,' said Curdie, 'I did try hard for a while, but I could not make +anything of it.' + +'Oh yes, you did, and you have been telling it to me! Shall I tell you +again what I told my wheel, and my wheel told you, and you have just +told me without knowing it?' + +'Please, ma'am.' + +Then the lady began to sing, and her wheel spun an accompaniment to her +song, and the music of the wheel was like the music of an Aeolian harp +blown upon by the wind that bloweth where it listeth. Oh, the sweet +sounds of that spinning wheel! Now they were gold, now silver, now +grass, now palm trees, now ancient cities, now rubies, now mountain +brooks, now peacock's feathers, now clouds, now snowdrops, and now +mid-sea islands. But for the voice that sang through it all, about +that I have no words to tell. It would make you weep if I were able to +tell you what that was like, it was so beautiful and true and lovely. +But this is something like the words of its song: + + + The stars are spinning their threads, + And the clouds are the dust that flies, + And the suns are weaving them up + For the time when the sleepers shall rise. + + The ocean in music rolls, + And gems are turning to eyes, + And the trees are gathering souls + For the day when the sleepers shall rise. + + The weepers are learning to smile, + And laughter to glean the sighs; + Burn and bury the care and guile, + For the day when the sleepers shall rise. + + Oh, the dews and the moths and the daisy red, + The larks and the glimmers and flows! + The lilies and sparrows and daily bread, + And the something that nobody knows! + + +The princess stopped, her wheel stopped, and she laughed. And her +laugh was sweeter than song and wheel; sweeter than running brook and +silver bell; sweeter than joy itself, for the heart of the laugh was +love. + +'Come now, Curdie, to this side of my wheel, and you will find me,' she +said; and her laugh seemed sounding on still in the words, as if they +were made of breath that had laughed. + +Curdie obeyed, and passed the wheel, and there she stood to receive +him!--fairer than when he saw her last, a little younger still, and +dressed not in green and emeralds, but in pale blue, with a coronet of +silver set with pearls, and slippers covered with opals that gleamed +every colour of the rainbow. It was some time before Curdie could take +his eyes from the marvel of her loveliness. Fearing at last that he was +rude, he turned them away; and, behold, he was in a room that was for +beauty marvellous! The lofty ceiling was all a golden vine, Whose +great clusters of carbuncles, rubies, and chrysoberyls hung down like +the bosses of groined arches, and in its centre hung the most glorious +lamp that human eyes ever saw--the Silver Moon itself, a globe of +silver, as it seemed, with a heart of light so wondrous potent that it +rendered the mass translucent, and altogether radiant. + +The room was so large that, looking back, he could scarcely see the end +at which he entered; but the other was only a few yards from him--and +there he saw another wonder: on a huge hearth a great fire was burning, +and the fire was a huge heap of roses, and yet it was fire. The smell +of the roses filled the air, and the heat of the flames of them glowed +upon his face. He turned an inquiring look upon the lady, and saw that +she was now seated in an ancient chair, the legs of which were crusted +with gems, but the upper part like a nest of daisies and moss and green +grass. + +'Curdie,' she said in answer to his eyes, 'you have stood more than one +trial already, and have stood them well: now I am going to put you to a +harder. Do you think you are prepared for it?' + +'How can I tell, ma'am,' he returned, 'seeing I do not know what it is, +or what preparation it needs? Judge me yourself, ma'am.' + +'It needs only trust and obedience,' answered the lady. + +'I dare not say anything, ma'am. If you think me fit, command me.' + +'It will hurt you terribly, Curdie, but that will be all; no real hurt +but much good will come to you from it.' + +Curdie made no answer but stood gazing with parted lips in the lady's +face. + +'Go and thrust both your hands into that fire,' she said quickly, +almost hurriedly. + +Curdie dared not stop to think. It was much too terrible to think +about. He rushed to the fire, and thrust both of his hands right into +the middle of the heap of flaming roses, and his arms halfway up to the +elbows. And it did hurt! But he did not draw them back. He held the +pain as if it were a thing that would kill him if he let it go--as +indeed it would have done. He was in terrible fear lest it should +conquer him. + +But when it had risen to the pitch that he thought he could bear it no +longer, it began to fall again, and went on growing less and less until +by contrast with its former severity it had become rather pleasant. At +last it ceased altogether, and Curdie thought his hands must be burned +to cinders if not ashes, for he did not feel them at all. The princess +told him to take them out and look at them. He did so, and found that +all that was gone of them was the rough, hard skin; they were white and +smooth like the princess's. + +'Come to me,' she said. + +He obeyed and saw, to his surprise, that her face looked as if she had +been weeping. + +'Oh, Princess! What is the matter?' he cried. 'Did I make a noise and +vex you?' + +'No, Curdie, she answered; 'but it was very bad.' + +'Did you feel it too then?' + +'Of course I did. But now it is over, and all is well. Would you like +to know why I made You put your hands in the fire?' Curdie looked at +them again--then said: + +'To take the marks of the work off them and make them fit for the +king's court, I suppose.' + +'No, Curdie,' answered the princess, shaking her head, for she was not +pleased with the answer. 'It would be a poor way of making your hands +fit for the king's court to take off them signs of his service. There +is a far greater difference on them than that. Do you feel none?' + +'No, ma'am.' + +'You will, though, by and by, when the time comes. But perhaps even +then you might not know what had been given you, therefore I will tell +you. Have you ever heard what some philosophers say--that men were all +animals once?' + +'No, ma'am.' + +'It is of no consequence. But there is another thing that is of the +greatest consequence--this: that all men, if they do not take care, go +down the hill to the animals' country; that many men are actually, all +their lives, going to be beasts. People knew it once, but it is long +since they forgot it.' + +'I am not surprised to hear it, ma'am, when I think of some of our +miners.' + +'Ah! But you must beware, Curdie, how you say of this man or that man +that he is travelling beastward. There are not nearly so many going +that way as at first sight you might think. When you met your father +on the hill tonight, you stood and spoke together on the same spot; and +although one of you was going up and the other coming down, at a little +distance no one could have told which was bound in the one direction +and which in the other. Just so two people may be at the same spot in +manners and behaviour, and yet one may be getting better and the other +worse, which is just the greatest of all differences that could +possibly exist between them.' + +'But ma'am,' said Curdie, 'where is the good of knowing that there is +such a difference, if you can never know where it is?' + +'Now, Curdie, you must mind exactly what words I use, because although +the right words cannot do exactly what I want them to do, the wrong +words will certainly do what I do not want them to do. I did not say +you can never know. When there is a necessity for your knowing, when +you have to do important business with this or that man, there is +always a way of knowing enough to keep you from any great blunder. And +as you will have important business to do by and by, and that with +people of whom you yet know nothing, it will be necessary that you +should have some better means than usual of learning the nature of them. + +'Now listen. Since it is always what they do, whether in their minds +or their bodies, that makes men go down to be less than men, that is, +beasts, the change always comes first in their hands--and first of all +in the inside hands, to which the outside ones are but as the gloves. +They do not know it of course; for a beast does not know that he is a +beast, and the nearer a man gets to being a beast the less he knows it. +Neither can their best friends, or their worst enemies indeed, see any +difference in their hands, for they see only the living gloves of them. +But there are not a few who feel a vague something repulsive in the +hand of a man who is growing a beast. + +'Now here is what the rose-fire has done for you: it has made your +hands so knowing and wise, it has brought your real hands so near the +outside of your flesh gloves, that you will henceforth be able to know +at once the hand of a man who is growing into a beast; nay, more--you +will at once feel the foot of the beast he is growing, just as if there +were no glove made like a man's hand between you and it. + +'Hence of course it follows that you will be able often, and with +further education in zoology, will be able always to tell, not only +when a man is growing a beast, but what beast he is growing to, for you +will know the foot--what it is and what beast's it is. According, then, +to your knowledge of that beast will be your knowledge of the man you +have to do with. Only there is one beautiful and awful thing about it, +that if any one gifted with this perception once uses it for his own +ends, it is taken from him, and then, not knowing that it is gone, he +is in a far worse condition than before, for he trusts to what he has +not got.' + +'How dreadful!' Said Curdie. 'I must mind what I am about.' + +'Yes, indeed, Curdie.' + +'But may not one sometimes make a mistake without being able to help +it?' + +'Yes. But so long as he is not after his own ends, he will never make +a serious mistake.' + +'I suppose you want me, ma'am, to warn every one whose hand tells me +that he is growing a beast--because, as you say, he does not know it +himself.' + +The princess smiled. + +'Much good that would do, Curdie! I don't say there are no cases in +which it would be of use, but they are very rare and peculiar cases, +and if such come you will know them. To such a person there is in +general no insult like the truth. He cannot endure it, not because he +is growing a beast, but because he is ceasing to be a man. It is the +dying man in him that it makes uncomfortable, and he trots, or creeps, +or swims, or flutters out of its way--calls it a foolish feeling, a +whim, an old wives' fable, a bit of priests' humbug, an effete +superstition, and so on.' + +'And is there no hope for him? Can nothing be done? It's so awful to +think of going down, down, down like that!' + +'Even when it's with his own will?' + +'That's what seems to me to make it worst of all,' said Curdie. + +'You are right,' answered the princess, nodding her head; 'but there is +this amount of excuse to make for all such, remember--that they do not +know what or how horrid their coming fate is. Many a lady, so delicate +and nice that she can bear nothing coarser than the finest linen to +touch her body, if she had a mirror that could show her the animal she +is growing to, as it lies waiting within the fair skin and the fine +linen and the silk and the jewels, would receive a shock that might +possibly wake her up.' + +'Why then, ma'am, shouldn't she have it?' + +The princess held her peace. + +'Come here, Lina,' she said after a long pause. + +From somewhere behind Curdie, crept forward the same hideous animal +which had fawned at his feet at the door, and which, without his +knowing it, had followed him every step up the dove tower. She ran to +the princess, and lay down flat at her feet, looking up at her with an +expression so pitiful that in Curdie's heart it overcame all the +ludicrousness of her horrible mass of incongruities. She had a very +short body, and very long legs made like an elephant's, so that in +lying down she kneeled with both pairs. Her tail, which dragged on the +floor behind her, was twice as long and quite as thick as her body. +Her head was something between that of a polar bear and a snake. Her +eyes were dark green, with a yellow light in them. Her under teeth +came up like a fringe of icicles, only very white, outside of her upper +lip. Her throat looked as if the hair had been plucked off. It showed +a skin white and smooth. + +'Give Curdie a paw, Lina,' said the princess. + +The creature rose, and, lifting a long foreleg, held up a great doglike +paw to Curdie. He took it gently. But what a shudder, as of terrified +delight, ran through him, when, instead of the paw of a dog, such as it +seemed to his eyes, he clasped in his great mining fist the soft, neat +little hand of a child! He took it in both of his, and held it as if +he could not let it go. The green eyes stared at him with their yellow +light, and the mouth was turned up toward him with its constant half +grin; but here was the child's hand! If he could but pull the child +out of the beast! His eyes sought the princess. She was watching him +with evident satisfaction. + +'Ma'am, here is a child's hand!' said Curdie. + +'Your gift does more for you than it promised. It is yet better to +perceive a hidden good than a hidden evil.' + +'But,' began Curdie. + +'I am not going to answer any more questions this evening,' interrupted +the princess. 'You have not half got to the bottom of the answers I +have already given you. That paw in your hand now might almost teach +you the whole science of natural history--the heavenly sort, I mean.' + +'I will think,' said Curdie. 'But oh! please! one word more: may I +tell my father and mother all about it?' + +'Certainly--though perhaps now it may be their turn to find it a little +difficult to believe that things went just as you must tell them.' + +'They shall see that I believe it all this time,' said Curdie. + +'Tell them that tomorrow morning you must set out for the court--not +like a great man, but just as poor as you are. They had better not +speak about it. Tell them also that it will be a long time before they +hear of you again, but they must not lose heart. And tell your father +to lay that stone I gave him at night in a safe place--not because of +the greatness of its price, although it is such an emerald as no prince +has in his crown, but because it will be a news-bearer between you and +him. As often as he gets at all anxious about you, he must take it and +lay it in the fire, and leave it there when he goes to bed. In the +morning he must find it in the ashes, and if it be as green as ever, +then all goes well with you; if it have lost colour, things go ill with +you; but if it be very pale indeed, then you are in great danger, and +he must come to me.' + +'Yes, ma'am,' said Curdie. 'Please, am I to go now?' + +'Yes,' answered the princess, and held out her hand to him. + +Curdie took it, trembling with joy. It was a very beautiful hand--not +small, very smooth, but not very soft--and just the same to his +fire-taught touch that it was to his eyes. He would have stood there +all night holding it if she had not gently withdrawn it. + +'I will provide you a servant,' she said, 'for your journey and to wait +upon you afterward.' + +'But where am I to go, ma'am, and what am I to do? You have given me +no message to carry, neither have you said what I am wanted for. I go +without a notion whether I am to walk this way or that, or what I am to +do when I get I don't know where.' + +'Curdie!' said the princess, and there was a tone of reminder in his +own name as she spoke it, 'did I not tell you to tell your father and +mother that you were to set out for the court? And you know that lies +to the north. You must learn to use far less direct directions than +that. You must not be like a dull servant that needs to be told again +and again before he will understand. You have orders enough to start +with, and you will find, as you go on, and as you need to know, what +you have to do. But I warn you that perhaps it will not look the least +like what you may have been fancying I should require of you. I have +one idea of you and your work, and you have another. I do not blame +you for that--you cannot help it yet; but you must be ready to let my +idea, which sets you working, set your idea right. Be true and honest +and fearless, and all shall go well with you and your work, and all +with whom your work lies, and so with your parents--and me too, +Curdie,' she added after a little pause. + +The young miner bowed his head low, patted the strange head that lay at +the princess's feet, and turned away. As soon as he passed the +spinning wheel, which looked, in the midst of the glorious room, just +like any wheel you might find in a country cottage--old and worn and +dingy and dusty--the splendour of the place vanished, and he saw but +the big bare room he seemed at first to have entered, with the +moon--the princess's moon no doubt--shining in at one of the windows +upon the spinning wheel. + + + +CHAPTER 9 + +Hands + +Curdie went home, pondering much, and told everything to his father and +mother. As the old princess had said, it was now their turn to find +what they heard hard to believe. If they had not been able to trust +Curdie himself, they would have refused to believe more than the half +of what he reported, then they would have refused that half too, and at +last would most likely for a time have disbelieved in the very +existence of the princess, what evidence their own senses had given +them notwithstanding. + +For he had nothing conclusive to show in proof of what he told them. +When he held out his hands to them, his mother said they looked as if +he had been washing them with soft soap, only they did smell of +something nicer than that, and she must allow it was more like roses +than anything else she knew. His father could not see any difference +upon his hands, but then it was night, he said, and their poor little +lamp was not enough for his old eyes. As to the feel of them, each of +his own hands, he said, was hard and horny enough for two, and it must +be the fault of the dullness of his own thick skin that he felt no +change on Curdie's palms. + +'Here, Curdie,' said his mother, 'try my hand, and see what beast's paw +lies inside it.' + +'No, Mother,' answered Curdie, half beseeching, half indignant, 'I will +not insult my new gift by making pretence to try it. That would be +mockery. There is no hand within yours but the hand of a true woman, +my mother.' + +'I should like you just to take hold of my hand though,' said his +mother. 'You are my son, and may know all the bad there is in me.' + +Then at once Curdie took her hand in his. And when he had it, he kept +it, stroking it gently with his other hand. + +'Mother,' he said at length, 'your hand feels just like that of the +princess.' + +'What! My horny, cracked, rheumatic old hand, with its big joints, and +its short nails all worn down to the quick with hard work--like the +hand of the beautiful princess! Why, my child, you will make me fancy +your fingers have grown very dull indeed, instead of sharp and +delicate, if you talk such nonsense. Mine is such an ugly hand I +should be ashamed to show it to any but one that loved me. But love +makes all safe--doesn't it, Curdie?' + +'Well, Mother, all I can say is that I don't feel a roughness, or a +crack, or a big joint, or a short nail. Your hand feels just and +exactly, as near as I can recollect, and it's not more than two hours +since I had it in mine--well, I will say, very like indeed to that of +the old princess.' + +'Go away, you flatterer,' said his mother, with a smile that showed how +she prized the love that lay beneath what she took for its hyperbole. +The praise even which one cannot accept is sweet from a true mouth. +'If that is all your new gift can do, it won't make a warlock of you,' +she added. + +'Mother, it tells me nothing but the truth,' insisted Curdie, 'however +unlike the truth it may seem. It wants no gift to tell what anybody's +outside hands are like. But by it I know your inside hands are like +the princess's.' + +'And I am sure the boy speaks true,' said Peter. 'He only says about +your hand what I have known ever so long about yourself, Joan. Curdie, +your mother's foot is as pretty a foot as any lady's in the land, and +where her hand is not so pretty it comes of killing its beauty for you +and me, my boy. And I can tell you more, Curdie. I don't know much +about ladies and gentlemen, but I am sure your inside mother must be a +lady, as her hand tells you, and I will try to say how I know it. This +is how: when I forget myself looking at her as she goes about her +work--and that happens often as I grow older--I fancy for a moment or +two that I am a gentleman; and when I wake up from my little dream, it +is only to feel the more strongly that I must do everything as a +gentleman should. I will try to tell you what I mean, Curdie. If a +gentleman--I mean a real gentleman, not a pretended one, of which sort +they say there are a many above ground--if a real gentleman were to +lose all his money and come down to work in the mines to get bread for +his family--do you think, Curdie, he would work like the lazy ones? +Would he try to do as little as he could for his wages? I know the +sort of the true gentleman pretty near as well as he does himself. And +my wife, that's your mother, Curdie, she's a true lady, you may take my +word for it, for it's she that makes me want to be a true gentleman. +Wife, the boy is in the right about your hand.' + +'Now, Father, let me feel yours,' said Curdie, daring a little more. + +'No, no, my boy,' answered Peter. 'I don't want to hear anything about +my hand or my head or my heart. I am what I am, and I hope growing +better, and that's enough. No, you shan't feel my hand. You must go to +bed, for you must start with the sun.' + +It was not as if Curdie had been leaving them to go to prison, or to +make a fortune, and although they were sorry enough to lose him, they +were not in the least heartbroken or even troubled at his going. + +As the princess had said he was to go like the poor man he was, Curdie +came down in the morning from his little loft dressed in his working +clothes. His mother, who was busy getting his breakfast for him, while +his father sat reading to her out of an old book, would have had him +put on his holiday garments, which, she said, would look poor enough +among the fine ladies and gentlemen he was going to. But Curdie said +he did not know that he was going among ladies and gentlemen, and that +as work was better than play, his workday clothes must on the whole be +better than his playday Clothes; and as his father accepted the +argument, his mother gave in. When he had eaten his breakfast, she +took a pouch made of goatskin, with the long hair on it, filled it with +bread and cheese, and hung it over his shoulder. Then his father gave +him a stick he had cut for him in the wood, and he bade them good-bye +rather hurriedly, for he was afraid of breaking down. As he went out +he caught up his mattock and took it with him. It had on the one side +a pointed curve of strong steel for loosening the earth and the ore, +and on the other a steel hammer for breaking the stones and rocks. +Just as he crossed the threshold the sun showed the first segment of +his disc above the horizon. + + + +CHAPTER 10 + +The Heath + +He had to go to the bottom of the hill to get into a country he could +cross, for the mountains to the north were full of precipices, and it +would have been losing time to go that way. Not until he had reached +the king's house was it any use to turn northwards. Many a look did he +raise, as he passed it, to the dove tower, and as long as it was in +sight, but he saw nothing of the lady of the pigeons. + +On and on he fared, and came in a few hours to a country where there +were no mountains more--only hills, with great stretches of desolate +heath. Here and there was a village, but that brought him little +pleasure, for the people were rougher and worse mannered than those in +the mountains, and as he passed through, the children came behind and +mocked him. + +'There's a monkey running away from the mines!' they cried. Sometimes +their parents came out and encouraged them. + +'He doesn't want to find gold for the king any longer--the lazybones!' +they would say. 'He'll be well taxed down here though, and he won't +like that either.' + +But it was little to Curdie that men who did not know what he was about +should not approve of his proceedings. He gave them a merry answer now +and then, and held diligently on his way. When they got so rude as +nearly to make him angry, he would treat them as he used to treat the +goblins, and sing his own songs to keep out their foolish noises. Once +a child fell as he turned to run away after throwing a stone at him. +He picked him up, kissed him, and carried him to his mother. The woman +had run out in terror when she saw the strange miner about, as she +thought, to take vengeance on her boy. When he put him in her arms, +she blessed him, and Curdie went on his way rejoicing. + +And so the day went on, and the evening came, and in the middle of a +great desolate heath he began to feel tired, and sat down under an +ancient hawthorn, through which every now and then a lone wind that +seemed to come from nowhere and to go nowhither sighed and hissed. It +was very old and distorted. There was not another tree for miles all +around. It seemed to have lived so long, and to have been so torn and +tossed by the tempests on that moor, that it had at last gathered a +wind of its own, which got up now and then, tumbled itself about, and +lay down again. + +Curdie had been so eager to get on that he had eaten nothing since his +breakfast. But he had had plenty of water, for Many little streams had +crossed his path. He now opened the wallet his mother had given him, +and began to eat his supper. The sun was setting. A few clouds had +gathered about the west, but there was not a single cloud anywhere else +to be seen. + +Now Curdie did not know that this was a part of the country very hard +to get through. Nobody lived there, though many had tried to build in +it. Some died very soon. Some rushed out of it. Those who stayed +longest went raving mad, and died a terrible death. Such as walked +straight on, and did not spend a night there, got through well and were +nothing the worse. But those who slept even a single night in it were +sure to meet with something they could never forget, and which often +left a mark everybody could read. And that old hawthorn Might have been +enough for a warning--it looked so like a human being dried up and +distorted with age and suffering, with cares instead of loves, and +things instead of thoughts. Both it and the heath around it, which +stretched on all sides as far as he could see, were so withered that it +was impossible to say whether they were alive or not. + +And while Curdie ate there came a change. Clouds had gathered over his +head, and seemed drifting about in every direction, as if not +'shepherded by the slow, unwilling wind,' but hunted in all directions +by wolfish flaws across the plains of the sky. The sun was going down +in a storm of lurid crimson, and out of the west came a wind that felt +red and hot the one moment, and cold and pale the other. And very +strangely it sang in the dreary old hawthorn tree, and very cheerily it +blew about Curdie, now making him creep close up to the tree for +shelter from its shivery cold, now fan himself with his cap, it was so +sultry and stifling. It seemed to come from the deathbed of the sun, +dying in fever and ague. + +And as he gazed at the sun, now on the verge of the horizon, very large +and very red and very dull--for though the clouds had broken away a +dusty fog was spread all over the disc--Curdie saw something strange +appear against it, moving about like a fly over its burning face. This +looked as if it were coming out of the sun's furnace heart, and was a +living creature of some kind surely; but its shape was very uncertain, +because the dazzle of the light all around melted the outlines. + +It was growing larger, it must be approaching! It grew so rapidly that +by the time the sun was half down its head reached the top of the arch, +and presently nothing but its legs were to be seen, crossing and +recrossing the face of the vanishing disc. + +When the sun was down he could see nothing of it more, but in a moment +he heard its feet galloping over the dry crackling heather, and seeming +to come straight for him. He stood up, lifted his pickaxes and threw +the hammer end over his shoulder: he was going to have a fight for his +life! And now it appeared again, vague, yet very awful, in the dim +twilight the sun had left behind. But just before it reached him, down +from its four long legs it dropped flat on the ground, and came +crawling towards him, wagging a huge tail as it came. + + + +CHAPTER 11 + +Lina + +It was Lina. All at once Curdie recognized her--the frightful creature +he had seen at the princess's. He dropped his pickaxes and held out +his hand. She crept nearer and nearer, and laid her chin in his palm, +and he patted her ugly head. Then she crept away behind the tree, and +lay down, panting hard. + +Curdie did not much like the idea of her being behind him. Horrible as +she was to look at, she seemed to his mind more horrible when he was +not looking at her. But he remembered the child's hand, and never +thought of driving her away. Now and then he gave a glance behind him, +and there she lay flat, with her eyes closed and her terrible teeth +gleaming between her two huge forepaws. + +After his supper and his long day's journey it was no wonder Curdie +should now be sleepy. Since the sun set the air had been warm and +pleasant. He lay down under the tree, closed his eyes, and thought to +sleep. He found himself mistaken, however. But although he could not +sleep, he was yet aware of resting delightfully. + +Presently he heard a sweet sound of singing somewhere, such as he had +never heard before--a singing as of curious birds far off, which drew +nearer and nearer. At length he heard their wings, and, opening his +eyes, saw a number of very large birds, as it seemed, alighting around +him, still singing. It was strange to hear song from the throats of +such big birds. + +And still singing, with large and round but not the less birdlike +voices, they began to weave a strange dance about him, moving their +wings in time with their legs. But the dance seemed somehow to be +troubled and broken, and to return upon itself in an eddy, in place of +sweeping smoothly on. + +And he soon learned, in the low short growls behind him, the cause of +the imperfection: they wanted to dance all round the tree, but Lina +would not permit them to come on her side. + +Now curdie liked the birds, and did not altogether like Lina. But +neither, nor both together, made a reason for driving away the +princess's creature. Doubtless she had been the goblins' creature, but +the last time he saw her was in the king's house and the dove tower, +and at the old princess's feet. So he left her to do as she would, and +the dance of the birds continued only a semicircle, troubled at the +edges, and returning upon itself. + +But their song and their motions, nevertheless, and the waving of their +wings, began at length to make him very sleepy. All the time he had +kept doubting whether they could really be birds, and the sleepier he +got, the more he imagined them something else, but he suspected no harm. + +Suddenly, just as he was sinking beneath the waves of slumber, he awoke +in fierce pain. The birds were upon him--all over him--and had begun +to tear him with beaks and claws. He had but time, however, to feel +that he could not move under their weight, when they set up a hideous +screaming, and scattered like a cloud. Lina was among them, snapping +and striking with her paws, while her tail knocked them over and over. +But they flew up, gathered, and descended on her in a swarm, perching +upon every part of her body, so that he could see only a huge misshapen +mass, which seemed to go rolling away into the darkness. He got up and +tried to follow, but could see nothing, and after wandering about +hither and thither for some time, found himself again beside the +hawthorn. He feared greatly that the birds had been too much for Lina, +and had torn her to pieces. In a little while, however, she came +limping back, and lay down in her old place. Curdie also lay down, +but, from the pain of his wounds, there was no sleep for him. When the +light came he found his clothes a good deal torn and his skin as well, +but gladly wondered why the wicked birds had not at once attacked his +eyes. Then he turned, looking for Lina. She rose and crept to him. +But she was in far worse plight than he--plucked and gashed and torn +with the beaks and claws of the birds, especially about the bare part +of her neck, so that she was pitiful to see. And those worst wounds +she could not reach to lick. + +'Poor Lina!' said Curdie, 'you got all those helping me.' + +She wagged her tail, and made it clear she understood him. Then it +flashed upon Curdie's mind that perhaps this was the companion the +princess had promised him. For the princess did so many things +differently from what anybody looked for! Lina was no beauty +certainly, but already, the first night, she had saved his life. + +'Come along, Lina,' he said, 'we want water.' + +She put her nose to the earth, and after snuffing for a moment, darted +off in a straight line. Curdie followed. The ground was so uneven, +that after losing sight of her many times, at last he seemed to have +lost her altogether. In a few minutes, however, he came upon her +waiting for him. Instantly she darted off again. After he had lost and +found her again many times, he found her the last time lying beside a +great stone. As soon as he came up she began scratching at it with her +paws. When he had raised it an inch or two, she shoved in first her +nose and then her teeth, and lifted with all the might of her neck. + +When at length between them they got it up, there was a beautiful +little well. He filled his cap with the clearest and sweetest water, +and drank. Then he gave to Lina, and she drank plentifully. Next he +washed her wounds very carefully. And as he did so, he noted how much +the bareness of her neck added to the strange repulsiveness of her +appearance. Then he bethought him of the goatskin wallet his mother +had given him, and taking it from his shoulders, tried whether it would +do to make a collar of for the poor animal. He found there was just +enough, and the hair so similar in colour to Lina's, that no one could +suspect it of having grown somewhere else. + +He took his knife, ripped up the seams of the wallet, and began trying +the skin to her neck. It was plain she understood perfectly what he +wished, for she endeavoured to hold her neck conveniently, turning it +this way and that while he contrived, with his rather scanty material, +to make the collar fit. As his mother had taken care to provide him +with needles and thread, he soon had a nice gorget ready for her. He +laced it on with one of his boot laces, which its long hair covered. +Poor Lina looked much better in it. Nor could any one have called it a +piece of finery. If ever green eyes with a yellow light in them looked +grateful, hers did. + +As they had no longer any bag to carry them in, Curdie and Lina now ate +what was left of the provisions. Then they set out again upon their +journey. For seven days it lasted. They met with various adventures, +and in all of them Lina proved so helpful, and so ready to risk her +life for the sake of her companion, that Curdie grew not merely very +fond but very trustful of her; and her ugliness, which at first only +moved his pity, now actually increased his affection for her. One day, +looking at her stretched on the grass before him, he said: + +'Oh, Lina! If the princess would but burn you in her fire of roses!' + +She looked up at him, gave a mournful whine like a dog, and laid her +head on his feet. What or how much he could not tell, but clearly she +had gathered something from his words. + + + +CHAPTER 12 + +More Creatures + +One day from morning till night they had been passing through a forest. +As soon as the sun was down Curdie began to be aware that there were +more in it than themselves. First he saw only the swift rush of a +figure across the trees at some distance. Then he saw another and then +another at shorter intervals. Then he saw others both farther off and +nearer. At last, missing Lina and looking about after her, he saw an +appearance as marvellous as herself steal up to her, and begin +conversing with her after some beast fashion which evidently she +understood. + +Presently what seemed a quarrel arose between them, and stranger noises +followed, mingled with growling. At length it came to a fight, which +had not lasted long, however, before the creature of the wood threw +itself upon its back, and held up its paws to Lina. She instantly +walked on, and the creature got up and followed her. They had not gone +far before another strange animal appeared, approaching Lina, when +precisely the same thing was repeated, the vanquished animal rising and +following with the former. Again, and yet again, and again, a fresh +animal came up, seemed to be reasoned and certainly was fought with and +overcome by Lina, until at last, before they were out of the wood, she +was followed by forty-nine of the most grotesquely ugly, the most +extravagantly abnormal animals imagination can conceive. To describe +them were a hopeless task. + +I knew a boy who used to make animals out of heather roots. Wherever he +could find four legs, he was pretty sure to find a head and a tail. +His beasts were a most comic menagerie, and right fruitful of laughter. +But they were not so grotesque and extravagant as Lina and her +followers. One of them, for instance, was like a boa constrictor +walking on four little stumpy legs near its tail. About the same +distance from its head were two little wings, which it was forever +fluttering as if trying to fly with them. Curdie thought it fancied it +did fly with them, when it was merely plodding on busily with its four +little stumps. How it managed to keep up he could not think, till once +when he missed it from the group: the same moment he caught sight of +something at a distance plunging at an awful serpentine rate through +the trees, and presently, from behind a huge ash, this same creature +fell again into the group, quietly waddling along on its four stumps. + +Watching it after this, he saw that, when it was not able to keep up +any longer, and they had all got a little space ahead, it shot into the +wood away from the route, and made a great round, serpentine alone in +huge billows of motion, devouring the ground, undulating awfully, +galloping as if it were all legs together, and its four stumps nowhere. +In this mad fashion it shot ahead, and, a few minutes after, toddled in +again among the rest, walking peacefully and somewhat painfully on its +few fours. + +From the time it takes to describe one of them it will be readily seen +that it would hardly do to attempt a description of each of the +forty-nine. They were not a goodly company, but well worth +contemplating, nevertheless; and Curdie had been too long used to the +goblins' creatures in the mines and on the mountain, to feel the least +uncomfortable at being followed by such a herd. On the contrary, the +marvellous vagaries of shape they manifested amused him greatly, and +shortened the journey much. + +Before they were all gathered, however, it had got so dark that he +could see some of them only a part at a time, and every now and then, +as the company wandered on, he would be startled by some extraordinary +limb or feature, undreamed of by him before, thrusting itself out of +the darkness into the range of his ken. Probably there were some of his +old acquaintances among them, although such had been the conditions of +semi-darkness, in which alone he had ever seen any of them, that it was +not like he would be able to identify any of them. + +On they marched solemnly, almost in silence, for either with feet or +voice the creatures seldom made any noise. By the time they reached +the outside of the wood it was morning twilight. Into the open trooped +the strange torrent of deformity, each one following Lina. Suddenly +she stopped, turned towards them, and said something which they +understood, although to Curdie's ear the sounds she made seemed to have +no articulation. Instantly they all turned, and vanished in the +forest, and Lina alone came trotting lithely and clumsily after her +master. + + + +CHAPTER 13 + +The Baker's Wife + +They were now passing through a lovely country of hill and dale and +rushing stream. The hills were abrupt, with broken chasms for +watercourses, and deep little valleys full of trees. But now and then +they came to a larger valley, with a fine river, whose level banks and +the adjacent meadows were dotted all over with red and white kine, +while on the fields above, that sloped a little to the foot of the +hills, grew oats and barley and wheat, and on the sides of the hills +themselves vines hung and chestnuts rose. + +They came at last to a broad, beautiful river, up which they must go to +arrive at the city of Gwyntystorm, where the king had his court. As +they went the valley narrowed, and then the river, but still it was +wide enough for large boats. After this, while the river kept its +size, the banks narrowed, until there was only room for a road between +the river and the great Cliffs that overhung it. At last river and road +took a sudden turn, and lo! a great rock in the river, which dividing +flowed around it, and on the top of the rock the city, with lofty walls +and towers and battlements, and above the city the palace of the king, +built like a strong castle. But the fortifications had long been +neglected, for the whole country was now under one king, and all men +said there was no more need for weapons or walls. No man pretended to +love his neighbour, but every one said he knew that peace and quiet +behaviour was the best thing for himself, and that, he said, was quite +as useful, and a great deal more reasonable. The city was prosperous +and rich, and if everybody was not comfortable, everybody else said he +ought to be. + +When Curdie got up opposite the mighty rock, which sparkled all over +with crystals, he found a narrow bridge, defended by gates and +portcullis and towers with loopholes. But the gates stood wide open, +and were dropping from their great hinges; the portcullis was eaten +away with rust, and clung to the grooves evidently immovable; while the +loopholed towers had neither floor nor roof, and their tops were fast +filling up their interiors. Curdie thought it a pity, if only for +their old story, that they should be thus neglected. But everybody in +the city regarded these signs of decay as the best proof of the +prosperity of the place. Commerce and self-interest, they said, had +got the better of violence, and the troubles of the past were whelmed +in the riches that flowed in at their open gates. + +Indeed, there was one sect of philosophers in it which taught that it +would be better to forget all the past history of the city, were it not +that its former imperfections taught its present inhabitants how +superior they and their times were, and enabled them to glory over +their ancestors. There were even certain quacks in the city who +advertised pills for enabling people to think well of themselves, and +some few bought of them, but most laughed, and said, with evident +truth, that they did not require them. Indeed, the general theme of +discourse when they met was, how much wiser they were than their +fathers. + +Curdie crossed the river, and began to ascend the winding road that led +up to the city. They met a good many idlers, and all stared at them. +It was no wonder they should stare, but there was an unfriendliness in +their looks which Curdie did not like. No one, however, offered them +any molestation: Lina did not invite liberties. After a long ascent, +they reached the principal gate of the city and entered. + +The street was very steep, ascending toward the palace, which rose in +great strength above all the houses. Just as they entered, a baker, +whose shop was a few doors inside the gate, came out in his white +apron, and ran to the shop of his friend, the barber, on the opposite +side of the way. But as he ran he stumbled and fell heavily. Curdie +hastened to help him up, and found he had bruised his forehead badly. +He swore grievously at the stone for tripping him up, declaring it was +the third time he had fallen over it within the last month; and saying +what was the king about that he allowed such a stone to stick up +forever on the main street of his royal residence of Gwyntystorm! What +was a king for if he would not take care of his people's heads! And he +stroked his forehead tenderly. + +'Was it your head or your feet that ought to bear the blame of your +fall?' asked Curdie. + +'Why, you booby of a miner! My feet, of course,' answered the baker. + +'Nay, then,' said Curdie, 'the king can't be to blame.' + +'Oh, I see!' said the baker. 'You're laying a trap for me. Of course, +if you come to that, it was my head that ought to have looked after my +feet. But it is the king's part to look after us all, and have his +streets smooth.' + +'Well, I don't see, said Curdie, 'why the king should take care of the +baker, when the baker's head won't take care of the baker's feet.' + +'Who are you to make game of the king's baker?' cried the man in a rage. + +But, instead of answering, Curdie went up to the bump on the street +which had repeated itself on the baker's head, and turning the hammer +end of his mattock, struck it such a blow that it flew wide in pieces. +Blow after blow he struck until he had levelled it with the street. + +But out flew the barber upon him in a rage. 'What do you break my +window for, you rascal, with your pickaxe?' + +'I am very sorry,' said Curdie. 'It must have been a bit of stone that +flew from my mattock. I couldn't help it, you know.' + +'Couldn't help it! A fine story! What do you go breaking the rock +for--the very rock upon which the city stands?' + +'Look at your friend's forehead,' said Curdie. 'See what a lump he has +got on it with falling over that same stone.' + +'What's that to my window?' cried the barber. 'His forehead can mend +itself; my poor window can't.' + +'But he's the king's baker,' said Curdie, more and more surprised at +the man's anger. + +'What's that to me? This is a free city. Every man here takes care of +himself, and the king takes care of us all. I'll have the price of my +window out of you, or the exchequer shall pay for it.' + +Something caught Curdie's eye. He stooped, picked up a piece of the +stone he had just broken, and put it in his pocket. + +'I suppose you are going to break another of my windows with that +stone!' said the barber. + +'Oh no,' said Curdie. 'I didn't mean to break your window, and I +certainly won't break another.' + +'Give me that stone,' said the barber. + +Curdie gave it him, and the barber threw it over the city wall. + +'I thought you wanted the stone,' said Curdie. + +'No, you fool!' answered the barber. 'What should I want with a stone?' + +Curdie stooped and picked up another. + +'Give me that stone,' said the barber. + +'No,' answered Curdie. 'You have just told me YOU don't want a stone, +and I do.' + +The barber took Curdie by the collar. + +'Come, now! You pay me for that window.' + +'How much?' asked Curdie. + +The barber said, 'A crown.' But the baker, annoyed at the +heartlessness of the barber, in thinking more of his broken window than +the bump on his friend's forehead, interfered. + +'No, no,' he said to Curdie; 'don't you pay any such sum. A little +pane like that cost only a quarter.' + +'Well, to be certain,' said Curdie, 'I'll give a half.' For he doubted +the baker as well as the barber. 'Perhaps one day, if he finds he has +asked too much, he will bring me the difference.' + +'Ha! ha!' laughed the barber. 'A fool and his money are soon parted.' + +But as he took the coin from Curdie's hand he grasped it in affected +reconciliation and real satisfaction. In Curdie's, his was the cold +smooth leathery palm of a monkey. He looked up, almost expecting to +see him pop the money in his cheek; but he had not yet got so far as +that, though he was well on the road to it: then he would have no other +pocket. + +'I'm glad that stone is gone, anyhow,' said the baker. 'It was the +bane of my life. I had no idea how easy it was to remove it. Give me +your pickaxes young miner, and I will show you how a baker can make the +stones fly.' + +He caught the tool out of Curdie's hand, and flew at one of the +foundation stones of the gateway. But he jarred his arm terribly, +scarcely chipped the stone, dropped the mattock with a cry of pain, and +ran into his own shop. Curdie picked up his implement, and, looking +after the baker, saw bread in the window, and followed him in. But the +baker, ashamed of himself, and thinking he was coming to laugh at him, +popped out of the back door, and when Curdie entered, the baker's wife +came from the bakehouse to serve him. Curdie requested to know the +price of a certain good-sized loaf. + +Now the baker's wife had been watching what had passed since first her +husband ran out of the shop, and she liked the look of Curdie. Also she +was more honest than her husband. Casting a glance to the back door, +she replied: + +'That is not the best bread. I will sell you a loaf of what we bake +for ourselves.' And when she had spoken she laid a finger on her lips. +'Take care of yourself in this place, MY son,' she added. 'They do not +love strangers. I was once a stranger here, and I know what I say.' +Then fancying she heard her husband, 'That is a strange animal you +have,' she said, in a louder voice. + +'Yes,' answered Curdie. 'She is no beauty, but she is very good, and +we love each other. Don't we, Lina?' + +Lina looked up and whined. Curdie threw her the half of his loaf, +which she ate, while her master and the baker's wife talked a little. +Then the baker's wife gave them some water, and Curdie having paid for +his loaf, he and Lina went up the street together. + + + +CHAPTER 14 + +The Dogs of Gwyntystorm + +The steep street led them straight up to a large market place with +butchers' shops, about which were many dogs. The moment they caught +sight of Lina, one and all they came rushing down upon her, giving her +no chance of explaining herself. When Curdie saw the dogs coming he +heaved up his mattock over his shoulder, and was ready, if they would +have it so. Seeing him thus prepared to defend his follower, a great +ugly bulldog flew at him. With the first blow Curdie struck him +through the brain and the brute fell dead at his feet. But he could +not at once recover his weapon, which stuck in the skull of his foe, +and a huge mastiff, seeing him thus hampered, flew at him next. + +Now Lina, who had shown herself so brave upon the road thither, had +grown shy upon entering the city, and kept always at Curdie's heel. But +it was her turn now. The moment she saw her master in danger she +seemed to go mad with rage. As the mastiff jumped at Curdie's throat, +Lina flew at him, seized him with her tremendous jaws, gave one roaring +grind, and he lay beside the bulldog with his neck broken. They were +the best dogs in the market, after the judgement of the butchers of +Gwyntystorm. Down came their masters, knives in hand. + +Curdie drew himself up fearlessly, mattock on shoulder, and awaited +their coming, while at his heel his awful attendant showed not only her +outside fringe of icicle teeth, but a double row of right serviceable +fangs she wore inside her mouth, and her green eyes flashed yellow as +gold. The butchers, not liking the look of either of them or of the +dogs at their feet, drew back, and began to remonstrate in the manner +of outraged men. + +'Stranger,' said the first, 'that bulldog is mine.' + +'Take him, then,' said Curdie, indignant. + +'You've killed him!' + +'Yes--else he would have killed me.' + +'That's no business of mine.' + +'No?' + +'No.' + +'That makes it the more mine, then.' + +'This sort of thing won't do, you know,' said the other butcher. + +'That's true,' said Curdie. 'That's my mastiff,' said the butcher. + +'And as he ought to be,' said Curdie. + +'Your brute shall be burned alive for it,' said the butcher. + +'Not yet,' answered Curdie. 'We have done no wrong. We were walking +quietly up your street when your dogs flew at us. If you don't teach +your dogs how to treat strangers, you must take the consequences.' + +'They treat them quite properly,' said the butcher. 'What right has +any one to bring an abomination like that into our city? The horror is +enough to make an idiot of every child in the place.' + +'We are both subjects of the king, and my poor animal can't help her +looks. How would you like to be served like that because you were +ugly? She's not a bit fonder of her looks than you are--only what can +she do to change them?' + +'I'll do to change them,' said the fellow. + +Thereupon the butchers brandished their long knives and advanced, +keeping their eyes upon Lina. + +'Don't be afraid, Lina,' cried Curdie. 'I'll kill one--you kill the +other.' + +Lina gave a howl that might have terrified an army, and crouched ready +to spring. The butchers turned and ran. + +By this time a great crowd had gathered behind the butchers, and in it +a number of boys returning from school who began to stone the +strangers. It was a way they had with man or beast they did not expect +to make anything by. One of the stones struck Lina; she caught it in +her teeth and crunched it so that it fell in gravel from her mouth. +Some of the foremost of the crowd saw this, and it terrified them. +They drew back; the rest took fright from their retreat; the panic +spread; and at last the crowd scattered in all directions. They ran, +and cried out, and said the devil and his dam were come to Gwyntystorm. +So Curdie and Lina were left standing unmolested in the market place. +But the terror of them spread throughout the city, and everybody began +to shut and lock his door so that by the time the setting sun shone +down the street, there was not a shop left open, for fear of the devil +and his horrible dam. But all the upper windows within sight of them +were crowded with heads watching them where they stood lonely in the +deserted market place. + +Curdie looked carefully all round, but could not see one open door. He +caught sight of the sign of an inn, however, and laying down his +mattock, and telling Lina to take care of it, walked up to the door of +it and knocked. But the people in the house, instead of opening the +door, threw things at him from the windows. They would not listen to a +word he said, but sent him back to Lina with the blood running down his +face. When Lina saw that she leaped up in a fury and was rushing at +the house, into which she would certainly have broken; but Curdie +called her, and made her lie down beside him while he bethought him +what next he should do. + +'Lina,' he said, 'the people keep their gates open, but their houses +and their hearts shut.' + +As if she knew it was her presence that had brought this trouble upon +him, she rose and went round and round him, purring like a tigress, and +rubbing herself against his legs. + +Now there was one little thatched house that stood squeezed in between +two tall gables, and the sides of the two great houses shot out +projecting windows that nearly met across the roof of the little one, +so that it lay in the street like a doll's house. In this house lived +a poor old woman, with a grandchild. And because she never gossiped or +quarrelled, or chaffered in the market, but went without what she could +not afford, the people called her a witch, and would have done her many +an ill turn if they had not been afraid of her. + +Now while Curdie was looking in another direction the door opened, and +out came a little dark-haired, black-eyed, gypsy-looking child, and +toddled across the market place toward the outcasts. The moment they +saw her coming, Lina lay down flat on the road, and with her two huge +forepaws covered her mouth, while Curdie went to meet her, holding out +his arms. The little one came straight to him, and held up her mouth +to be kissed. Then she took him by the hand, and drew him toward the +house, and Curdie yielded to the silent invitation. + +But when Lina rose to follow, the child shrank from her, frightened a +little. Curdie took her up, and holding her on one arm, patted Lina +with the other hand. Then the child wanted also to pat doggy, as she +called her by a right bountiful stretch of courtesy, and having once +patted her, nothing would serve but Curdie must let her have a ride on +doggy. So he set her on Lina's back, holding her hand, and she rode +home in merry triumph, all unconscious of the hundreds of eyes staring +at her foolhardiness from the windows about the market place, or the +murmur of deep disapproval that rose from as many lips. + +At the door stood the grandmother to receive them. She caught the +child to her bosom with delight at her courage, welcomed Curdie, and +showed no dread of Lina. Many were the significant nods exchanged, and +many a one said to another that the devil and the witch were old +friends. But the woman was only a wise woman, who, having seen how +Curdie and Lina behaved to each other, judged from that what sort they +were, and so made them welcome to her house. She was not like her +fellow townspeople, for that they were strangers recommended them to +her. + +The moment her door was shut the other doors began to open, and soon +there appeared little groups here and there about a threshold, while a +few of the more courageous ventured out upon the square--all ready to +make for their houses again, however, upon the least sign of movement +in the little thatched one. + +The baker and the barber had joined one of these groups, and were +busily wagging their tongues against Curdie and his horrible beast. + +'He can't be honest,' said the barber; 'for he paid me double the worth +of the pane he broke in my window.' + +And then he told them how Curdie broke his window by breaking a stone +in the street with his hammer. There the baker struck in. + +'Now that was the stone,' said he, 'over which I had fallen three times +within the last month: could it be by fair means he broke that to +pieces at the first blow? Just to make up my mind on that point I +tried his own hammer against a stone in the gate; it nearly broke both +my arms, and loosened half the teeth in my head!' + + + +CHAPTER 15 + +Derba and Barbara + +Meantime the wanderers were hospitably entertained by the old woman and +her grandchild and they were all very comfortable and happy together. +Little Barbara sat upon Curdie's knee, and he told her stories about +the mines and his adventures in them. But he never mentioned the king +or the princess, for all that story was hard to believe. And he told +her about his mother and father, and how good they were. And Derba sat +and listened. At last little Barbara fell asleep in Curdie's arms, and +her grandmother carried her to bed. + +It was a poor little house, and Derba gave up her own room to Curdie +because he was honest and talked wisely. Curdie saw how it was, and +begged her to allow him to lie on the floor, but she would not hear of +it. + +In the night he was waked by Lina pulling at him. As soon as he spoke +to her she ceased, and Curdie, listening, thought he heard someone +trying to get in. He rose, took his mattock, and went about the house, +listening and watching; but although he heard noises now at one place +now at another, he could not think what they meant for no one appeared. +Certainly, considering how she had frightened them all in the day, it +was not likely any one would attack Lina at night. By and by the +noises ceased, and Curdie went back to his bed, and slept undisturbed. + +In the morning, however, Derba came to him in great agitation, and said +they had fastened up the door, so that she could not get out. Curdie +rose immediately and went with her: they found that not only the door, +but every window in the house was so secured on the outside that it was +impossible to open one of them without using great force. Poor Derba +looked anxiously in Curdie's face. He broke out laughing. + +'They are much mistaken,' he said, 'if they fancy they could keep Lina +and a miner in any house in Gwyntystorm--even if they built up doors +and windows.' + +With that he shouldered his mattock. But Derba begged him not to make +a hole in her house just yet. She had plenty for breakfast, she said, +and before it was time for dinner they would know what the people meant +by it. + +And indeed they did. For within an hour appeared one of the chief +magistrates of the city, accompanied by a score of soldiers with drawn +swords, and followed by a great multitude of people, requiring the +miner and his brute to yield themselves, the one that he might be tried +for the disturbance he had occasioned and the injury he had committed, +the other that she might be roasted alive for her part in killing two +valuable and harmless animals belonging to worthy citizens. The +summons was preceded and followed by flourish of trumpet, and was read +with every formality by the city marshal himself. + +The moment he ended, Lina ran into the little passage, and stood +opposite the door. + +'I surrender,' cried Curdie. + +'Then tie up your brute, and give her here.' + +'No, no,' cried Curdie through the door. 'I surrender; but I'm not +going to do your hangman's work. If you want MY dog, you must take +her.' + +'Then we shall set the house on fire, and burn witch and all.' + +'It will go hard with us but we shall kill a few dozen of you first,' +cried Curdie. 'We're not the least afraid of you.' With that Curdie +turned to Derba, and said: + +'Don't be frightened. I have a strong feeling that all will be well. +Surely no trouble will come to you for being good to strangers.' + +'But the poor dog!' said Derba. + +Now Curdie and Lina understood each other more than a little by this +time, and not only had he seen that she understood the proclamation, +but when she looked up at him after it was read, it was with such a +grin, and such a yellow flash, that he saw also she was determined to +take care of herself. + +'The dog will probably give you reason to think a little more of her +ere long,' he answered. 'But now,' he went on, 'I fear I must hurt +your house a little. I have great confidence, however, that I shall be +able to make up to you for it one day.' + +'Never mind the house, if only you can get safe off,' she answered. 'I +don't think they will hurt this precious lamb,' she added, clasping +little Barbara to her bosom. 'For myself, it is all one; I am ready +for anything.' + +'It is but a little hole for Lina I want to make,' said Curdie. 'She +can creep through a much smaller one than you would think.' + +Again he took his mattock, and went to the back wall. + +'They won't burn the house,' he said to himself. 'There is too good a +one on each side of it.' + +The tumult had kept increasing every moment, and the city marshal had +been shouting, but Curdie had not listened to him. When now they heard +the blows of his mattock, there went up a great cry, and the people +taunted the soldiers that they were afraid of a dog and his miner. The +soldiers therefore made a rush at the door, and cut its fastenings. + +The moment they opened it, out leaped Lina, with a roar so unnaturally +horrible that the sword arms of the soldiers dropped by their sides, +paralysed with the terror of that cry; the crowd fled in every +direction, shrieking and yelling with mortal dismay; and without even +knocking down with her tail, not to say biting a man of them with her +pulverizing jaws, Lina vanished--no one knew whither, for not one of +the crowd had had courage to look upon her. + +The moment she was gone, Curdie advanced and gave himself up. The +soldiers were so filled with fear, shame, and chagrin, that they were +ready to kill him on the spot. But he stood quietly facing them, with +his mattock on his shoulder; and the magistrate wishing to examine him, +and the people to see him made an example of, the soldiers had to +content themselves with taking him. Partly for derision, partly to +hurt him, they laid his mattock against his back, and tied his arms to +it. + +They led him up a very steep street, and up another still, all the +crowd following. The king's palace-castle rose towering above them; +but they stopped before they reached it, at a low-browed door in a +great, dull, heavy-looking building. + +The city marshal opened it with a key which hung at his girdle, and +ordered Curdie to enter. The place within was dark as night, and while +he was feeling his way with his feet, the marshal gave him a rough +push. He fell, and rolled once or twice over, unable to help himself +because his hands were tied behind him. + +It was the hour of the magistrate's second and more important +breakfast, and until that was over he never found himself capable of +attending to a case with concentration sufficient to the distinguishing +of the side upon which his own advantage lay; and hence was this +respite for Curdie, with time to collect his thoughts. But indeed he +had very few to collect, for all he had to do, so far as he could see, +was to wait for what would come next. Neither had he much power to +collect them, for he was a good deal shaken. + +In a few minutes he discovered, to his great relief, that, from the +projection of the pick end of his mattock beyond his body, the fall had +loosened the ropes tied round it. He got one hand disengaged, and then +the other; and presently stood free, with his good mattock once more in +right serviceable relation to his arms and legs. + + + +CHAPTER 16 + +The Mattock + +While The magistrate reinvigorated his selfishness with a greedy +breakfast, Curdie found doing nothing in the dark rather tiresome work. +It was useless attempting to think what he should do next, seeing the +circumstances in which he was presently to find himself were altogether +unknown to him. So he began to think about his father and mother in +their little cottage home, high in the clear air of the open +Mountainside, and the thought, instead of making his dungeon gloomier +by the contrast, made a light in his soul that destroyed the power of +darkness and captivity. + +But he was at length startled from his waking dream by a swell in the +noise outside. All the time there had been a few of the more idle of +the inhabitants about the door, but they had been rather quiet. Now, +however, the sounds of feet and voices began to grow, and grew so +rapidly that it was plain a multitude was gathering. For the people of +Gwyntystorm always gave themselves an hour of pleasure after their +second breakfast, and what greater pleasure could they have than to see +a stranger abused by the officers of justice? + +The noise grew till it was like the roaring of the sea, and that +roaring went on a long time, for the magistrate, being a great man, +liked to know that he was waited for: it added to the enjoyment of his +breakfast, and, indeed, enabled him to eat a little more after he had +thought his powers exhausted. + +But at length, in the waves of the human noises rose a bigger wave, and +by the running and shouting and outcry, Curdie learned that the +magistrate was approaching. + +Presently came the sound of the great rusty key in the lock, which +yielded with groaning reluctance; the door was thrown back, the light +rushed in, and with it came the voice of the city marshal, calling upon +Curdie, by many legal epithets opprobrious, to come forth and be tried +for his life, inasmuch as he had raised a tumult in His Majesty's city +of Gwyntystorm, troubled the hearts of the king's baker and barber, and +slain the faithful dogs of His Majesty's well-beloved butchers. + +He was still reading, and Curdie was still seated in the brown twilight +of the vault, not listening, but pondering with himself how this king +the city marshal talked of could be the same with the Majesty he had +seen ride away on his grand white horse with the Princess Irene on a +cushion before him, when a scream of agonized terror arose on the +farthest skirt of the crowd, and, swifter than flood or flame, the +horror spread shrieking. In a moment the air was filled with hideous +howling, cries of unspeakable dismay, and the multitudinous noise of +running feet. The next moment, in at the door of the vault bounded +Lina, her two green eyes flaming yellow as sunflowers, and seeming to +light up the dungeon. With one spring she threw herself at Curdie's +feet, and laid her head upon them panting. Then came a rush of two or +three soldiers darkening the doorway, but it was only to lay hold of +the key, pull the door to, and lock it; so that once more Curdie and +Lina were prisoners together. + +For a few moments Lina lay panting hard: it is breathless work leaping +and roaring both at once, and that in a way to scatter thousands of +people. Then she jumped up, and began snuffing about all over the +place; and Curdie saw what he had never seen before--two faint spots of +light cast from her eyes upon the ground, one on each side of her +snuffing nose. He got out his tinder box--a miner is never without +one--and lighted a precious bit of candle he carried in a division of +it just for a moment, for he must not waste it. + +The light revealed a vault without any window or other opening than the +door. It was very old and much neglected. The mortar had vanished +from between the stones, and it was half filled with a heap of all +sorts of rubbish, beaten down in the middle, but looser at the sides; +it sloped from the door to the foot of the opposite wall: evidently for +a long time the vault had been left open, and every sort of refuse +thrown into it. A single minute served for the survey, so little was +there to note. + +Meantime, down in the angle between the back wall and the base of the +heap Lina was scratching furiously with all the eighteen great strong +claws of her mighty feet. + +'Ah, ha!' said Curdie to himself, catching sight of her, 'if only they +will leave us long enough to ourselves!' + +With that he ran to the door, to see if there was any fastening on the +inside. There was none: in all its long history it never had had one. +But a few blows of the right sort, now from the one, now from the other +end of his mattock, were as good as any bolt, for they so ruined the +lock that no key could ever turn in it again. Those who heard them +fancied he was trying to get out, and laughed spitefully. As soon as +he had done, he extinguished his candle, and went down to Lina. + +She had reached the hard rock which formed the floor of the dungeon, +and was now clearing away the earth a little wider. Presently she +looked up in his face and whined, as much as to say, 'My paws are not +hard enough to get any farther.' + +'Then get out of my way, Lina,' said Curdie, and mind you keep your +eyes shining, for fear I should hit you.' + +So saying, he heaved his mattock, and assailed with the hammer end of +it the spot she had cleared. + +The rock was very hard, but when it did break it broke in good-sized +pieces. Now with hammer, now with pick, he worked till he was weary, +then rested, and then set to again. He could not tell how the day +went, as he had no light but the lamping of Lina's eyes. The darkness +hampered him greatly, for he would not let Lina come close enough to +give him all the light she could, lest he should strike her. So he +had, every now and then, to feel with his hands to know how he was +getting on, and to discover in what direction to strike: the exact spot +was a mere imagination. + +He was getting very tired and hungry, and beginning to lose heart a +little, when out of the ground, as if he had struck a spring of it, +burst a dull, gleamy, lead-coloured light, and the next moment he heard +a hollow splash and echo. A piece of rock had fallen out of the floor, +and dropped into water beneath. Already Lina, who had been lying a few +yards off all the time he worked, was on her feet and peering through +the hole. Curdie got down on his hands and knees, and looked. They +were over what seemed a natural cave in the rock, to which apparently +the river had access, for, at a great distance below, a faint light was +gleaming upon water. If they could but reach it, they might get out; +but even if it was deep enough, the height was very dangerous. The +first thing, whatever might follow, was to make the hole larger. It +was comparatively easy to break away the sides of it, and in the course +of another hour he had it large enough to get through. + +And now he must reconnoitre. He took the rope they had tied him +with--for Curdie's hindrances were always his furtherance--and fastened +one end of it by a slipknot round the handle of his pickaxes then +dropped the other end through, and laid the pickaxe so that, when he +was through himself, and hanging on the edge, he could place it across +the hole to support him on the rope. This done, he took the rope in +his hands, and, beginning to descend, found himself in a narrow cleft +widening into a cave. His rope was not very long, and would not do +much to lessen the force of his fall--he thought to himself--if he +should have to drop into the water; but he was not more than a couple +of yards below the dungeon when he spied an opening on the opposite +side of the cleft: it might be but a shadow hole, or it might lead them +out. He dropped himself a little below its level, gave the rope a +swing by pushing his feet against the side of the cleft, and so +penduled himself into it. Then he laid a stone on the end of the rope +that it should not forsake him, called to Lina, whose yellow eyes were +gleaming over the mattock grating above, to watch there till he +returned, and went cautiously in. It proved a passage, level for some +distance, then sloping gently up. He advanced carefully, feeling his +way as he went. At length he was stopped by a door--a small door, +studded with iron. But the wood was in places so much decayed that +some of the bolts had dropped out, and he felt sure of being able to +open it. He returned, therefore, to fetch Lina and his mattock. +Arrived at the cleft, his strong miner arms bore him swiftly up along +the rope and through the hole into the dungeon. There he undid the +rope from his mattock, and making Lina take the end of it in her teeth, +and get through the hole, he lowered her--it was all he could do, she +was so heavy. When she came opposite the passage, with a slight push +of her tail she shot herself into it, and let go the rope, which Curdie +drew up. + +Then he lighted his candle and searching in the rubbish found a bit of +iron to take the place of his pickaxe across the hole. Then he +searched again in the rubbish, and found half an old shutter. This he +propped up leaning a little over the hole, with a bit of stick, and +heaped against the back of it a quantity of the loosened earth. Next he +tied his mattock to the end of the rope, dropped it, and let it hang. +Last, he got through the hole himself, and pulled away the propping +stick, so that the shutter fell over the hole with a quantity of earth +on the top of it. A few motions of hand over hand, and he swung +himself and his mattock into the passage beside Lina. + +There he secured the end of the rope, and they went on together to the +door. + + + +CHAPTER 17 + +The Wine Cellar + +He lighted his candle and examined it. Decayed and broken as it was, +it was strongly secured in its place by hinges on the one side, and +either lock or bolt, he could not tell which, on the other. A brief +use of his pocket-knife was enough to make room for his hand and arm to +get through, and then he found a great iron bolt--but so rusty that he +could not move it. + +Lina whimpered. He took his knife again, made the hole bigger, and +stood back. In she shot her small head and long neck, seized the bolt +with her teeth, and dragged it, grating and complaining, back. A push +then opened the door. It was at the foot of a short flight of steps. +They ascended, and at the top Curdie found himself in a space which, +from the echo to his stamp, appeared of some size, though of what sort +he could not at first tell, for his hands, feeling about, came upon +nothing. Presently, however, they fell on a great thing: it was a wine +cask. + +He was just setting out to explore the place thoroughly, when he heard +steps coming down a stair. He stood still, not knowing whether the +door would open an inch from his nose or twenty yards behind his back. +It did neither. He heard the key turn in the lock, and a stream of +light shot in, ruining the darkness, about fifteen yards away on his +right. + +A man carrying a candle in one hand and a large silver flagon in the +other, entered, and came toward him. The light revealed a row of huge +wine casks, that stretched away into the darkness of the other end of +the long vault. Curdie retreated into the recess of the stair, and +peeping round the corner of it, watched him, thinking what he could do +to prevent him from locking them in. He came on and on, until curdie +feared he would pass the recess and see them. He was just preparing to +rush out, and master him before he should give alarm, not in the least +knowing what he should do next, when, to his relief, the man stopped at +the third cask from where he stood. He set down his light on the top +of it, removed what seemed a large vent-peg, and poured into the cask a +quantity of something from the flagon. Then he turned to the next +cask, drew some wine, rinsed the flagon, threw the wine away, drew and +rinsed and threw away again, then drew and drank, draining to the +bottom. Last of all, he filled the flagon from the cask he had first +visited, replaced then the vent-peg, took up his candle, and turned +toward the door. + +'There is something wrong here!' thought Curdie. + +'Speak to him, Lina,' he whispered. + +The sudden howl she gave made Curdie himself start and tremble for a +moment. As to the man, he answered Lina's with another horrible howl, +forced from him by the convulsive shudder of every muscle of his body, +then reeled gasping to and fro, and dropped his candle. But just as +Curdie expected to see him fall dead he recovered himself, and flew to +the door, through which he darted, leaving it open behind him. The +moment he ran, Curdie stepped out, picked up the candle still alight, +sped after him to the door, drew out the key, and then returned to the +stair and waited. In a few minutes he heard the sound of many feet and +voices. Instantly he turned the tap of the cask from which the man had +been drinking, set the candle beside it on the floor, went down the +steps and out of the little door, followed by Lina, and closed it +behind them. + +Through the hole in it he could see a little, and hear all. He could +see how the light of many candles filled the place, and could hear how +some two dozen feet ran hither and thither through the echoing cellar; +he could hear the clash of iron, probably spits and pokers, now and +then; and at last heard how, finding nothing remarkable except the best +wine running to waste, they all turned on the butler and accused him of +having fooled them with a drunken dream. He did his best to defend +himself, appealing to the evidence of their own senses that he was as +sober as they were. They replied that a fright was no less a fright +that the cause was imaginary, and a dream no less a dream that the +fright had waked him from it. + +When he discovered, and triumphantly adduced as corroboration, that the +key was gone from the door, they said it merely showed how drunk he had +been--either that or how frightened, for he had certainly dropped it. +In vain he protested that he had never taken it out of the lock--that +he never did when he went in, and certainly had not this time stopped +to do so when he came out; they asked him why he had to go to the +cellar at such a time of the day, and said it was because he had +already drunk all the wine that was left from dinner. He said if he +had dropped the key, the key was to be found, and they must help him to +find it. They told him they wouldn't move a peg for him. He declared, +with much language, he would have them all turned out of the king's +service. They said they would swear he was drunk. + +And so positive were they about it, that at last the butler himself +began to think whether it was possible they could be in the right. For +he knew that sometimes when he had been drunk he fancied things had +taken place which he found afterward could not have happened. Certain +of his fellow servants, however, had all the time a doubt whether the +cellar goblin had not appeared to him, or at least roared at him, to +protect the wine. In any case nobody wanted to find the key for him; +nothing could please them better than that the door of the wine cellar +should never more be locked. By degrees the hubbub died away, and they +departed, not even pulling to the door, for there was neither handle +nor latch to it. + +As soon as they were gone, Curdie returned, knowing now that they were +in the wine cellar of the palace, as indeed, he had suspected. Finding +a pool of wine in a hollow of the floor, Lina lapped it up eagerly: she +had had no breakfast, and was now very thirsty as well as hungry. Her +master was in a similar plight, for he had but just begun to eat when +the magistrate arrived with the soldiers. If only they were all in +bed, he thought, that he might find his way to the larder! For he said +to himself that, as he was sent there by the young princess's +great-great-grandmother to serve her or her father in some way, surely +he must have a right to his food in the Palace, without which he could +do nothing. He would go at once and reconnoitre. + +So he crept up the stair that led from the cellar. At the top was a +door, opening on a long passage dimly lighted by a lamp. He told Lina +to lie down upon the stair while he went on. At the end of the passage +he found a door ajar, and, peering through, saw right into a great +stone hall, where a huge fire was blazing, and through which men in the +king's livery were constantly coming and going. Some also in the same +livery were lounging about the fire. He noted that their colours were +the same as those he himself, as king's miner, wore; but from what he +had seen and heard of the habits of the place, he could not hope they +would treat him the better for that. + +The one interesting thing at the moment, however, was the plentiful +supper with which the table was spread. It was something at least to +stand in sight of food, and he was unwilling to turn his back on the +prospect so long as a share in it was not absolutely hopeless. Peeping +thus, he soon made UP his mind that if at any moment the hall should be +empty, he would at that moment rush in and attempt to carry off a dish. +That he might lose no time by indecision, he selected a large pie upon +which to pounce instantaneously. But after he had watched for some +minutes, it did not seem at all likely the chance would arrive before +suppertime, and he was just about to turn away and rejoin Lina, when he +saw that there was not a person in the place. Curdie never made up his +mind and then hesitated. He darted in, seized the pie, and bore it +swiftly and noiselessly to the cellar stair. + + + +CHAPTER 18 + +The King's Kitchen + +Back to the cellar Curdie and Lina sped with their booty, where, seated +on the steps, Curdie lighted his bit of candle for a moment. A very +little bit it was now, but they did not waste much of it in examination +of the pie; that they effected by a more summary process. Curdie +thought it the nicest food he had ever tasted, and between them they +soon ate it up. Then Curdie would have thrown the dish along with the +bones into the water, that there might be no traces of them; but he +thought of his mother, and hid it instead; and the very next minute +they wanted it to draw some wine into. He was careful it should be +from the cask of which he had seen the butler drink. + +Then they sat down again upon the steps, and waited until the house +should be quiet. For he was there to do something, and if it did not +come to him in the cellar, he must go to meet it in other places. +Therefore, lest he should fall asleep, he set the end of the helve of +his mattock on the ground, and seated himself on the cross part, +leaning against the wall, so that as long as he kept awake he should +rest, but the moment he began to fall asleep he must fall awake +instead. He quite expected some of the servants would visit the cellar +again that night, but whether it was that they were afraid of each +other, or believed more of the butler's story than they had chosen to +allow, not one of them appeared. + +When at length he thought he might venture, he shouldered his mattock +and crept up the stair. The lamp was out in the passage, but he could +not miss his way to the servants' hall. Trusting to Lina's quickness +in concealing herself, he took her with him. + +When they reached the hall they found it quiet and nearly dark. The +last of the great fire was glowing red, but giving little light. +Curdie stood and warmed himself for a few moments: miner as he was, he +had found the cellar cold to sit in doing nothing; and standing thus he +thought of looking if there were any bits of candle about. There were +many candlesticks on the supper table, but to his disappointment and +indignation their candles seemed to have been all left to burn out, and +some of them, indeed, he found still hot in the neck. + +Presently, one after another, he came upon seven men fast asleep, most +of them upon tables, one in a chair, and one on the floor. They seemed, +from their shape and colour, to have eaten and drunk so much that they +might be burned alive without wakening. He grasped the hand of each in +succession, and found two ox hoofs, three pig hoofs, one concerning +which he could not be sure whether it was the hoof of a donkey or a +pony, and one dog's paw. 'A nice set of people to be about a king!' +thought Curdie to himself, and turned again to his candle hunt. He did +at last find two or three little pieces, and stowed them away in his +pockets. They now left the hall by another door, and entered a short +passage, which led them to the huge kitchen, vaulted and black with +smoke. There, too, the fire was still burning, so that he was able to +see a little of the state of things in this quarter also. + +The place was dirty and disorderly. In a recess, on a heap of +brushwood, lay a kitchen-maid, with a table cover around her, and a +skillet in her hand: evidently she too had been drinking. In another +corner lay a page, and Curdie noted how like his dress was to his own. +In the cinders before the hearth were huddled three dogs and five cats, +all fast asleep, while the rats were running about the floor. Curdie's +heart ached to think of the lovely child-princess living over such a +sty. The mine was a paradise to a palace with such servants in it. + +Leaving the kitchen, he got into the region of the sculleries. There +horrible smells were wandering about, like evil spirits that come forth +with the darkness. He lighted a candle--but only to see ugly sights. +Everywhere was filth and disorder. Mangy turnspit dogs were lying +about, and grey rats were gnawing at refuse in the sinks. It was like +a hideous dream. He felt as if he should never get out of it, and +longed for one glimpse of his mother's poor little kitchen, so clean +and bright and airy. Turning from it at last in miserable disgust, he +almost ran back through the kitchen, re-entered the hall, and crossed +it to another door. + +It opened upon a wider passage leading to an arch in a stately +corridor, all its length lighted by lamps in niches. At the end of it +was a large and beautiful hall, with great pillars. There sat three +men in the royal livery, fast asleep, each in a great armchair, with +his feet on a huge footstool. They looked like fools dreaming +themselves kings; and Lina looked as if she longed to throttle them. +At one side of the hall was the grand staircase, and they went up. + +Everything that now met Curdie's eyes was rich--not glorious like the +splendours of the mountain cavern, but rich and soft--except where, now +and then, some rough old rib of the ancient fortress came through, hard +and discoloured. Now some dark bare arch of stone, now some rugged and +blackened pillar, now some huge beam, brown with the smoke and dust of +centuries, looked like a thistle in the midst of daisies, or a rock in +a smooth lawn. + +They wandered about a good while, again and again finding themselves +where they had been before. Gradually, however, Curdie was gaining +some idea of the place. By and by Lina began to look frightened, and +as they went on Curdie saw that she looked more and more frightened. +Now, by this time he had come to understand that what made her look +frightened was always the fear of frightening, and he therefore +concluded they must be drawing nigh to somebody. + +At last, in a gorgeously painted gallery, he saw a curtain of crimson, +and on the curtain a royal crown wrought in silks and stones. He felt +sure this must be the king's chamber, and it was here he was wanted; +or, if it was not the place he was bound for, something would meet him +and turn him aside; for he had come to think that so long as a man +wants to do right he may go where he can: when he can go no farther, +then it is not the way. 'Only,' said his father, in assenting to the +theory, 'he must really want to do right, and not merely fancy he does. +He must want it with his heart and will, and not with his rag of a +tongue.' + +So he gently lifted the corner of the curtain, and there behind it was +a half-open door. He entered, and the moment he was in, Lina stretched +herself along the threshold between the curtain and the door. + + + +CHAPTER 19 + +The King's Chamber + +He found himself in a large room, dimly lighted by a silver lamp that +hung from the ceiling. Far at the other end was a great bed, +surrounded with dark heavy curtains. He went softly toward it, his +heart beating fast. It was a dreadful thing to be alone in the king's +chamber at the dead of night. To gain courage he had to remind himself +of the beautiful princess who had sent him. + +But when he was about halfway to the bed, a figure appeared from the +farther side of it, and came towards him, with a hand raised warningly. +He stood still. The light was dim, and he could distinguish little +more than the outline of a young girl. But though the form he saw was +much taller than the princess he remembered, he never doubted it was +she. For one thing, he knew that most girls would have been frightened +to see him there in the dead of the night, but like a true princess, +and the princess he used to know, she walked straight on to meet him. +As she came she lowered the hand she had lifted, and laid the +forefinger of it upon her lips. Nearer and nearer, quite near, close +up to him she came, then stopped, and stood a moment looking at him. + +'You are Curdie,' she said. + +'And you are the Princess Irene,' he returned. + +'Then we know each other still,' she said, with a sad smile of +pleasure. 'You will help me.' + +'That I will,' answered Curdie. He did not say, 'If I can'; for he +knew that what he was sent to do, that he could do. 'May I kiss your +hand, little Princess?' + +She was only between nine and ten, though indeed she looked several +years older, and her eyes almost those of a grown woman, for she had +had terrible trouble of late. + +She held out her hand. + +'I am not the little princess any more. I have grown up since I saw +you last, Mr Miner.' + +The smile which accompanied the words had in it a strange mixture of +playfulness and sadness. + +'So I see, Miss Princess,' returned Curdie; 'and therefore, being more +of a princess, you are the more my princess. Here I am, sent by your +great-great-grandmother, to be your servant. May I ask why you are up +so late, Princess?' + +'Because my father wakes so frightened, and I don't know what he would +do if he didn't find me by his bedside. There! he's waking now.' + +She darted off to the side of the bed she had come from. + +Curdie stood where he was. + +A voice altogether unlike what he remembered of the mighty, noble king +on his white horse came from the bed, thin, feeble, hollow, and husky, +and in tone like that of a petulant child: + +'I will not, I will not. I am a king, and I will be a king. I hate +you and despise you, and you shall not torture me!' + +'Never mind them, Father dear,' said the princess. 'I am here, and +they shan't touch you. They dare not, you know, so long as you defy +them.' + +'They want my crown, darling; and I can't give them my crown, can I? +For what is a king without his crown?' + +'They shall never have your crown, my king,' said Irene. 'Here it +is--all safe. I am watching it for you.' + +Curdie drew near the bed on the other side. There lay the grand old +king--he looked grand still, and twenty years older. His body was +pillowed high; his beard descended long and white over the crimson +coverlid; and his crown, its diamonds and emeralds gleaming in the +twilight of the curtains, lay in front of him, his long thin old hands +folded round it, and the ends of his beard straying among the lovely +stones. His face was like that of a man who had died fighting nobly; +but one thing made it dreadful: his eyes, while they moved about as if +searching in this direction and in that, looked more dead than his +face. He saw neither his daughter nor his crown: it was the voice of +the one and the touch of the other that comforted him. He kept +murmuring what seemed words, but was unintelligible to Curdie, +although, to judge from the look of Irene's face, she learned and +concluded from it. + +By degrees his voice sank away and the murmuring ceased, although still +his lips moved. Thus lay the old king on his bed, slumbering with his +crown between his hands; on one side of him stood a lovely little +maiden, with blue eyes, and brown hair going a little back from her +temples, as if blown by a wind that no one felt but herself; and on the +other a stalwart young miner, with his mattock over his shoulder. +Stranger sight still was Lina lying along the threshold--only nobody +saw her just then. + +A moment more and the king's lips ceased to move. His breathing had +grown regular and quiet. The princess gave a sigh of relief, and came +round to Curdie. + +'We can talk a little now,' she said, leading him toward the middle of +the room. 'My father will sleep now till the doctor wakes him to give +him his medicine. It is not really medicine, though, but wine. +Nothing but that, the doctor says, could have kept him so long alive. +He always comes in the middle of the night to give it him with his own +hands. But it makes me cry to see him wake up when so nicely asleep.' + +'What sort of man is your doctor?' asked Curdie. + +'Oh, such a dear, good, kind gentleman!' replied the princess. 'He +speaks so softly, and is so sorry for his dear king! He will be here +presently, and you shall see for yourself. You will like him very +much.' + +'Has your king-father been long ill?' asked Curdie. + +'A whole year now,' she replied. 'Did you not know? That's how your +mother never got the red petticoat my father promised her. The lord +chancellor told me that not only Gwyntystorm but the whole land was +mourning over the illness of the good man.' + +Now Curdie himself had not heard a word of His Majesty's illness, and +had no ground for believing that a single soul in any place he had +visited on his journey had heard of it. Moreover, although mention had +been made of His Majesty again and again in his hearing since he came +to Gwyntystorm, never once had he heard an allusion to the state of his +health. And now it dawned upon him also that he had never heard the +least expression of love to him. But just for the time he thought it +better to say nothing on either point. + +'Does the king wander like this every night?' he asked. + +'Every night,' answered Irene, shaking her head mournfully. 'That is +why I never go to bed at night. He is better during the day--a little, +and then I sleep--in the dressing room there, to be with him in a +moment if he should call me. It is so sad he should have only me and +not my mamma! A princess is nothing to a queen!' + +'I wish he would like me,' said Curdie, 'for then I might watch by him +at night, and let you go to bed, Princess.' + +'Don't you know then?' returned Irene, in wonder. 'How was it you +came? Ah! You said my grandmother sent you. But I thought you knew +that he wanted you.' + +And again she opened wide her blue stars. + +'Not I,' said Curdie, also bewildered, but very glad. + +'He used to be constantly saying--he was not so ill then as he is +now--that he wished he had you about him.' + +'And I never to know it!' said Curdie, with displeasure. + +'The master of the horse told papa's own secretary that he had written +to the miner-general to find you and send you up; but the miner-general +wrote back to the master of the horse, and he told the secretary, and +the secretary told my father, that they had searched every mine in the +kingdom and could hear nothing of you. My father gave a great sigh, and +said he feared the goblins had got you, after all, and your father and +mother were dead of grief. And he has never mentioned you since, +except when wandering. I cried very much. But one of my grandmother's +pigeons with its white wing flashed a message to me through the window +one day, and then I knew that my Curdie wasn't eaten by the goblins, +for my grandmother wouldn't have taken care of him one time to let him +be eaten the next. Where were you, Curdie, that they couldn't find +you?' + +'We will talk about that another time, when we are not expecting the +doctor,' said Curdie. + +As he spoke, his eyes fell upon something shining on the table under +the lamp. His heart gave a great throb, and he went nearer. Yes, there +could be no doubt--it was the same flagon that the butler had filled in +the wine cellar. + +'It looks worse and worse!'he said to himself, and went back to Irene, +where she stood half dreaming. + +'When will the doctor be here?' he asked once more--this time hurriedly. + +The question was answered--not by the princess, but by something which +that instant tumbled heavily into the room. Curdie flew toward it in +vague terror about Lina. + +On the floor lay a little round man, puffing and blowing, and uttering +incoherent language. Curdie thought of his mattock, and ran and laid +it aside. + +'Oh, dear Dr Kelman!' cried the princess, running up and taking hold of +his arm; 'I am so sorry!' She pulled and pulled, but might almost as +well have tried to set up a cannon ball. 'I hope you have not hurt +yourself?' + +'Not at all, not at all,' said the doctor, trying to smile and to rise +both at once, but finding it impossible to do either. + +'If he slept on the floor he would be late for breakfast,' said Curdie +to himself, and held out his hand to help him. + +But when he took hold of it, Curdie very nearly let him fall again, for +what he held was not even a foot: it was the belly of a creeping thing. +He managed, however, to hold both his peace and his grasp, and pulled +the doctor roughly on his legs--such as they were. + +'Your Royal Highness has rather a thick mat at the door,' said the +doctor, patting his palms together. 'I hope my awkwardness may not +have startled His Majesty.' + +While he talked Curdie went to the door: Lina was not there. + +The doctor approached the bed. + +'And how has my beloved king slept tonight?' he asked. + +'No better,' answered Irene, with a mournful shake of her head. + +'Ah, that is very well!' returned the doctor, his fall seeming to have +muddled either his words or his meaning. 'When we give him his wine, +he will be better still.' + +Curdie darted at the flagon, and lifted it high, as if he had expected +to find it full, but had found it empty. + +'That stupid butler! I heard them say he was drunk!' he cried in a +loud whisper, and was gliding from the room. + +'Come here with that flagon, you! Page!' cried the doctor. Curdie came +a few steps toward him with the flagon dangling from his hand, heedless +of the gushes that fell noiseless on the thick carpet. + +'Are you aware, young man,' said the doctor, 'that it is not every wine +can do His Majesty the benefit I intend he should derive from my +prescription?' + +'Quite aware, sir, answered Curdie. 'The wine for His Majesty's use is +in the third cask from the corner.' + +'Fly, then,' said the doctor, looking satisfied. + +Curdie stopped outside the curtain and blew an audible breath--no more; +up came Lina noiseless as a shadow. He showed her the flagon. + +'The cellar, Lina: go,' he said. + +She galloped away on her soft feet, and Curdie had indeed to fly to +keep up with her. Not once did she make even a dubious turn. From the +king's gorgeous chamber to the cold cellar they shot. Curdie dashed +the wine down the back stair, rinsed the flagon out as he had seen the +butler do, filled it from the cask of which he had seen the butler +drink, and hastened with it up again to the king's room. + +The little doctor took it, poured out a full glass, smelt, but did not +taste it, and set it down. Then he leaned over the bed, shouted in the +king's ear, blew upon his eyes, and pinched his arm: Curdie thought he +saw him run something bright into it. At last the king half woke. The +doctor seized the glass, raised his head, poured the wine down his +throat, and let his head fall back on the pillow again. Tenderly +wiping his beard, and bidding the princess good night in paternal +tones, he then took his leave. Curdie would gladly have driven his +pick into his head, but that was not in his commission, and he let him +go. The little round man looked very carefully to his feet as he +crossed the threshold. + +'That attentive fellow of a page has removed the mat,' he said to +himself, as he walked along the corridor. 'I must remember him.' + + + +CHAPTER 20 + +Counterplotting + +Curdie was already sufficiently enlightened as to how things were +going, to see that he must have the princess of one mind with him, and +they must work together. It was clear that among those about the king +there was a plot against him: for one thing, they had agreed in a lie +concerning himself; and it was plain also that the doctor was working +out a design against the health and reason of His Majesty, rendering +the question of his life a matter of little moment. It was in itself +sufficient to justify the worst fears, that the people outside the +palace were ignorant of His Majesty's condition: he believed those +inside it also--the butler excepted--were ignorant of it as well. +Doubtless His Majesty's councillors desired to alienate the hearts of +his subjects from their sovereign. Curdie's idea was that they +intended to kill the king, marry the princess to one of themselves, and +found a new dynasty; but whatever their purpose, there was treason in +the palace of the worst sort: they were making and keeping the king +incapable, in order to effect that purpose. The first thing to be seen +to, therefore, was that His Majesty should neither eat morsel nor drink +drop of anything prepared for him in the palace. Could this have been +managed without the princess, Curdie would have preferred leaving her +in ignorance of the horrors from which he sought to deliver her. He +feared also the danger of her knowledge betraying itself to the evil +eyes about her; but it must be risked and she had always been a wise +child. + +Another thing was clear to him--that with such traitors no terms of +honour were either binding or possible, and that, short of lying, he +might use any means to foil them. And he could not doubt that the old +princess had sent him expressly to frustrate their plans. + +While he stood thinking thus with himself, the princess was earnestly +watching the king, with looks of childish love and womanly tenderness +that went to Curdie's heart. Now and then with a great fan of peacock +feathers she would fan him very softly; now and then, seeing a cloud +begin to gather upon the sky of his sleeping face, she would climb upon +the bed, and bending to his ear whisper into it, then draw back and +watch again--generally to see the cloud disperse. In his deepest +slumber, the soul of the king lay open to the voice of his child, and +that voice had power either to change the aspect of his visions, or, +which was better still, to breathe hope into his heart, and courage to +endure them. + +Curdie came near, and softly called her. + +'I can't leave Papa just yet,' she returned, in a low voice. + +'I will wait,' said Curdie; 'but I want very much to say something.' + +In a few minutes she came to him where he stood under the lamp. + +'Well, Curdie, what is it?' she said. + +'Princess,' he replied, 'I want to tell you that I have found why your +grandmother sent me.' + +'Come this way, then, she answered, 'where I can see the face of my +king.' + +Curdie placed a chair for her in the spot she chose, where she would be +near enough to mark any slightest change on her father's countenance, +yet where their low-voiced talk would not disturb him. There he sat +down beside her and told her all the story--how her grandmother had +sent her good pigeon for him, and how she had instructed him, and sent +him there without telling him what he had to do. Then he told her what +he had discovered of the state of things generally in Gwyntystorm, and +especially what he had heard and seen in the palace that night. + +'Things are in a bad state enough,' he said in conclusion--'lying and +selfishness and inhospitality and dishonesty everywhere; and to crown +all, they speak with disrespect of the good king, and not a man knows +he is ill.' + +'You frighten me dreadfully,' said Irene, trembling. + +'You must be brave for your king's sake,' said Curdie. + +'Indeed I will,' she replied, and turned a long loving look upon the +beautiful face of her father. 'But what is to be done? And how am I +to believe such horrible things of Dr Kelman?' + +'My dear Princess,' replied Curdie, 'you know nothing of him but his +face and his tongue, and they are both false. Either you must beware +of him, or you must doubt your grandmother and me; for I tell you, by +the gift she gave me of testing hands, that this man is a snake. That +round body he shows is but the case of a serpent. Perhaps the creature +lies there, as in its nest, coiled round and round inside.' + +'Horrible!' said Irene. + +'Horrible indeed; but we must not try to get rid of horrible things by +refusing to look at them, and saying they are not there. Is not your +beautiful father sleeping better since he had the wine?' + +'Yes.' + +'Does he always sleep better after having it?' + +She reflected an instant. + +'No; always worse--till tonight,' she answered. + +'Then remember that was the wine I got him--not what the butler drew. +Nothing that passes through any hand in the house except yours or mine +must henceforth, till he is well, reach His Majesty's lips.' + +'But how, dear Curdie?' said the princess, almost crying. + +'That we must contrive,' answered Curdie. 'I know how to take care of +the wine; but for his food--now we must think.' + +'He takes hardly any,' said the princess, with a pathetic shake of her +little head which Curdie had almost learned to look for. + +'The more need,' he replied, 'there should be no poison in it.' Irene +shuddered. 'As soon as he has honest food he will begin to grow +better. And you must be just as careful with yourself, Princess,' +Curdie went on, 'for you don't know when they may begin to poison you, +too.' + +'There's no fear of me; don't talk about me,' said Irene. 'The good +food! How are we to get it, Curdie? That is the whole question.' + +'I am thinking hard,' answered Curdie. 'The good food? Let me +see--let me see! Such servants as I saw below are sure to have the +best of everything for themselves: I will go an see what I can find on +their table.' + +'The chancellor sleeps in the house, and he and the master of the +king's horse always have their supper together in a room off the great +hall, to the right as you go down the stairs,' said Irene. 'I would go +with you, but I dare not leave my father. Alas! He scarcely ever +takes more than a mouthful. I can't think how he lives! And the very +thing he would like, and often asks for--a bit of bread--I can hardly +ever get for him: Dr Kelman has forbidden it, and says it is nothing +less than poison to him.' + +'Bread at least he shall have,' said Curdie; 'and that, with the honest +wine, will do as well as anything, I do believe. I will go at once and +look for some. But I want you to see Lina first, and know her, lest, +coming upon her by accident at any time, you should be frightened.' + +'I should like much to see her,' said the princess. + +Warning her not to be startled by her ugliness, he went to the door and +called her. + +She entered, creeping with downcast head, and dragging her tail over +the floor behind her. Curdie watched the princess as the frightful +creature came nearer and nearer. One shudder went from head to foot, +and next instant she stepped to meet her. Lina dropped flat on the +floor, and covered her face with her two big paws. It went to the +heart of the princess: in a moment she was on her knees beside her, +stroking her ugly head, and patting her all over. + +'Good dog! Dear ugly dog!' she said. + +Lina whimpered. + +'I believe,' said Curdie, 'from what your grandmother told me, that +Lina is a woman, and that she was naughty, but is now growing good.' + +Lina had lifted her head while Irene was caressing her; now she dropped +it again between her paws; but the princess took it in her hands, and +kissed the forehead betwixt the gold-green eyes. + +'Shall I take her with me or leave her?' asked Curdie. + +'Leave her, poor dear,' said Irene, and Curdie, knowing the way now, +went without her. + +He took his way first to the room the princess had spoken of, and there +also were the remains of supper; but neither there nor in the kitchen +could he find a scrap of plain wholesome-looking bread. So he returned +and told her that as soon as it was light he would go into the city for +some, and asked her for a handkerchief to tie it in. If he could not +bring it himself, he would send it by Lina, who could keep out of sight +better than he, and as soon as all was quiet at night he would come to +her again. He also asked her to tell the king that he was in the +house. His hope lay in the fact that bakers everywhere go to work +early. But it was yet much too early. So he persuaded the princess to +lie down, promising to call her if the king should stir. + + + +CHAPTER 21 + +The Loaf + +His Majesty slept very quietly. The dawn had grown almost day, and +still Curdie lingered, unwilling to disturb the princess. + +At last, however, he called her, and she was in the room in a moment. +She had slept, she said, and felt quite fresh. Delighted to find her +father still asleep, and so peacefully, she pushed her chair close to +the bed, and sat down with her hands in her lap. + +Curdie got his mattock from where he had hidden it behind a great +mirror, and went to the cellar, followed by Lina. They took some +breakfast with them as they passed through the hall, and as soon as +they had eaten it went out the back way. + +At the mouth of the passage Curdie seized the rope, drew himself up, +pushed away the shutter, and entered the dungeon. Then he swung the +end of the rope to Lina, and she caught it in her teeth. When her +master said, 'Now, Lina!' she gave a great spring, and he ran away with +the end of the rope as fast as ever he could. And such a spring had +she made, that by the time he had to bear her weight she was within a +few feet of the hole. The instant she got a paw through, she was all +through. + +Apparently their enemies were waiting till hunger should have cowed +them, for there was no sign of any attempt having been made to open the +door. A blow or two of Curdie's mattock drove the shattered lock clean +from it, and telling Lina to wait there till he came back, and let no +one in, he walked out into the silent street, and drew the door to +behind them. He could hardly believe it was not yet a whole day since +he had been thrown in there with his hands tied at his back. + +Down the town he went, walking in the middle of the street, that, if +any one saw him, he might see he was not afraid, and hesitate to rouse +an attack on him. As to the dogs, ever since the death of their two +companions, a shadow that looked like a mattock was enough to make them +scamper. As soon as he reached the archway of the city gate he turned +to reconnoitre the baker's shop, and perceiving no sign of movement, +waited there watching for the first. + +After about an hour, the door opened, and the baker's man appeared with +a pail in his hand. He went to a pump that stood in the street, and +having filled his pail returned with it into the shop. Curdie stole +after him, found the door on the latch, opened it very gently, peeped +in, saw nobody, and entered. Remembering perfectly from what shelf the +baker's wife had taken the loaf she said was the best, and seeing just +one upon it, he seized it, laid the price of it on the counter, and +sped softly out, and up the street. Once more in the dungeon beside +Lina, his first thought was to fasten up the door again, which would +have been easy, so many iron fragments of all sorts and sizes lay +about; but he bethought himself that if he left it as it was, and they +came to find him, they would conclude at once that they had made their +escape by it, and would look no farther so as to discover the hole. He +therefore merely pushed the door close and left it. Then once more +carefully arranging the earth behind the shutter, so that it should +again fall with it, he returned to the cellar. + +And now he had to convey the loaf to the princess. If he could venture +to take it himself, well; if not, he would send Lina. He crept to the +door of the servants' hall, and found the sleepers beginning to stir. +One said it was time to go to bed; another, that he would go to the +cellar instead, and have a mug of wine to waken him up; while a third +challenged a fourth to give him his revenge at some game or other. + +'Oh, hang your losses!' answered his companion; 'you'll soon pick up +twice as much about the house, if you but keep your eyes open.' + +Perceiving there would be risk in attempting to pass through, and +reflecting that the porters in the great hall would probably be awake +also, Curdie went back to the cellar, took Irene's handkerchief with +the loaf in it, tied it round Lina's neck, and told her to take it to +the princess. + +Using every shadow and every shelter, Lina slid through the servants +like a shapeless terror through a guilty mind, and so, by corridor and +great hall, up the stair to the king's chamber. + +Irene trembled a little when she saw her glide soundless in across the +silent dusk of the morning, that filtered through the heavy drapery of +the windows, but she recovered herself at once when she saw the bundle +about her neck, for it both assured her of Curdie's safety, and gave +her hope of her father's. She untied it with joy, and Lina stole away, +silent as she had come. Her joy was the greater that the king had +waked up a little before, and expressed a desire for food--not that he +felt exactly hungry, he said, and yet he wanted something. If only he +might have a piece of nice fresh bread! Irene had no knife, but with +eager hands she broke a great piece from the loaf, and poured out a +full glass of wine. The king ate and drank, enjoyed the bread and the +wine much, and instantly fell asleep again. + +It was hours before the lazy people brought their breakfast. When it +came, Irene crumbled a little about, threw some into the fireplace, and +managed to make the tray look just as usual. + +In the meantime, down below in the cellar, Curdie was lying in the +hollow between the upper sides of two of the great casks, the warmest +place he could find. Lina was watching. She lay at his feet, across +the two casks, and did her best so to arrange her huge tail that it +should be a warm coverlid for her master. + +By and by Dr Kelman called to see his patient; and now that Irene's +eyes were opened, she saw clearly enough that he was both annoyed and +puzzled at finding His Majesty rather better. He pretended however to +congratulate him, saying he believed he was quite fit to see the lord +chamberlain: he wanted his signature to something important; only he +must not strain his mind to understand it, whatever it might be: if His +Majesty did, he would not be answerable for the consequences. The king +said he would see the lord chamberlain, and the doctor went. + +Then Irene gave him more bread and wine, and the king ate and drank, +and smiled a feeble smile, the first real one she had seen for many a +day. He said he felt much better, and would soon be able to take +matters into his own hands again. He had a strange miserable feeling, +he said, that things were going terribly wrong, although he could not +tell how. Then the princess told him that Curdie had come, and that at +night, when all was quiet for nobody in the palace must know, he would +pay His Majesty a visit. Her great-great-grandmother had sent him, she +said. The king looked strangely upon her, but the strange look passed +into a smile clearer than the first, and irene's heart throbbed with +delight. + + + +CHAPTER 22 + +The Lord Chamberlain + +At noon the lord chamberlain appeared. With a long, low bow, and paper +in hand, he stepped softly into the room. Greeting His Majesty with +every appearance of the profoundest respect, and congratulating him on +the evident progress he had made, he declared himself sorry to trouble +him, but there were certain papers, he said, which required his +signature--and therewith drew nearer to the king, who lay looking at +him doubtfully. He was a lean, long, yellow man, with a small head, +bald over the top, and tufted at the back and about the ears. He had a +very thin, prominent, hooked nose, and a quantity of loose skin under +his chin and about the throat, which came craning up out of his +neckcloth. His eyes were very small, sharp, and glittering, and looked +black as jet. He had hardly enough of a mouth to make a smile with. +His left hand held the paper, and the long, skinny fingers of his right +a pen just dipped in ink. + +But the king, who for weeks had scarcely known what he did, was today +so much himself as to be aware that he was not quite himself; and the +moment he saw the paper, he resolved that he would not sign without +understanding and approving of it. He requested the lord chamberlain +therefore to read it. His Lordship commenced at once but the +difficulties he seemed to encounter, and the fits of stammering that +seized him, roused the king's suspicion tenfold. He called the princess. + +'I trouble His Lordship too much,' he said to her: 'you can read print +well, my child--let me hear how you can read writing. Take that paper +from His Lordship's hand, and read it to me from beginning to end, +while my lord drinks a glass of my favourite wine, and watches for your +blunders.' + +'Pardon me, Your Majesty,' said the lord chamberlain, with as much of a +smile as he was able to extemporize, 'but it were a thousand pities to +put the attainments of Her Royal Highness to a test altogether too +severe. Your Majesty can scarcely with justice expect the very organs +of her speech to prove capable of compassing words so long, and to her +so unintelligible.' + +'I think much of my little princess and her capabilities,' returned the +king, more and more aroused. 'Pray, my lord, permit her to try.' + +'Consider, Your Majesty: the thing would be altogether without +precedent. It would be to make sport of statecraft,' said the lord +chamberlain. + +'Perhaps you are right, my lord,' answered the king, with more meaning +than he intended should be manifest, while to his growing joy he felt +new life and power throbbing in heart and brain. 'So this morning we +shall read no further. I am indeed ill able for business of such +weight.' + +'Will Your Majesty please sign your royal name here?' said the lord +chamberlain, preferring the request as a matter of course, and +approaching with the feather end of the pen pointed to a spot where +there was a great red seal. + +'Not today, my lord,' replied the king. + +'It is of the greatest importance, Your Majesty,' softly insisted the +other. + +'I descried no such importance in it,' said the king. + +'Your Majesty heard but a part.' + +'And I can hear no more today.' + +'I trust Your Majesty has ground enough, in a case of necessity like +the present, to sign upon the representation of his loyal subject and +chamberlain? Or shall I call the lord chancellor?' he added, rising. + +'There is no need. I have the very highest opinion of your judgement, +my lord,' answered the king; 'that is, with respect to means: we might +differ as to ends.' + +The lord chamberlain made yet further attempts at persuasion; but they +grew feebler and feebler, and he was at last compelled to retire +without having gained his object. And well might his annoyance be +keen! For that paper was the king's will, drawn up by the +attorney-general; nor until they had the king's signature to it was +there much use in venturing farther. But his worst sense of +discomfiture arose from finding the king with so much capacity left, +for the doctor had pledged himself so to weaken his brain that he +should be as a child in their hands, incapable of refusing anything +requested of him: His Lordship began to doubt the doctor's fidelity to +the conspiracy. + +The princess was in high delight. She had not for weeks heard so many +words, not to say words of such strength and reason, from her father's +lips: day by day he had been growing weaker and more lethargic. He was +so much exhausted, however, after this effort, that he asked for +another piece of bread and more wine, and fell fast asleep the moment +he had taken them. + +The lord chamberlain sent in a rage for Dr Kelman. He came, and while +professing himself unable to understand the symptoms described by His +Lordship, yet pledged himself again that on the morrow the king should +do whatever was required of him. + +The day went on. When His Majesty was awake, the princess read to +him--one storybook after another; and whatever she read, the king +listened as if he had never heard anything so good before, making out +in it the wisest meanings. Every now and then he asked for a piece of +bread and a little wine, and every time he ate and drank he slept, and +every time he woke he seemed better than the last time. The princess +bearing her part, the loaf was eaten up and the flagon emptied before +night. The butler took the flagon away, and brought it back filled to +the brim, but both were thirsty and hungry when Curdie came again. + +Meantime he and Lina, watching and waking alternately, had plenty of +sleep. In the afternoon, peeping from the recess, they saw several of +the servants enter hurriedly, one after the other, draw wine, drink it, +and steal out; but their business was to take care of the king, not of +his cellar, and they let them drink. Also, when the butler came to +fill the flagon, they restrained themselves, for the villain's fate was +not yet ready for him. He looked terribly frightened, and had brought +with him a large candle and a small terrier--which latter indeed +threatened to be troublesome, for he went roving and sniffing about +until he came to the recess where they were. But as soon as he showed +himself, Lina opened her jaws so wide, and glared at him so horribly, +that, without even uttering a whimper, he tucked his tail between his +legs and ran to his master. He was drawing the wicked wine at the +moment, and did not see him, else he would doubtless have run too. + +When suppertime approached, Curdie took his place at the door into the +servants' hall; but after a long hour's vain watch, he began to fear he +should get nothing: there was so much idling about, as well as coming +and going. It was hard to bear--chiefly from the attractions of a +splendid loaf, just fresh out of the oven, which he longed to secure +for the king and princess. At length his chance did arrive: he pounced +upon the loaf and carried it away, and soon after got hold of a pie. + +This time, however, both loaf and pie were missed. The cook was +called. He declared he had provided both. One of themselves, he said, +must have carried them away for some friend outside the palace. Then a +housemaid, who had not long been one of them, said she had seen someone +like a page running in the direction of the cellar with something in +his hands. Instantly all turned upon the pages, accusing them, one +after another. All denied, but nobody believed one of them: Where +there is no truth there can be no faith. + +To the cellar they all set out to look for the missing pie and loaf. +Lina heard them coming, as well she might, for they were talking and +quarrelling loud, and gave her master warning. They snatched up +everything, and got all signs of their presence out at the back door +before the servants entered. When they found nothing, they all turned +on the chambermaid, and accused her, not only of lying against the +pages, but of having taken the things herself. Their language and +behaviour so disgusted Curdie, who could hear a great part of what +passed, and he saw the danger of discovery now so much increased, that +he began to devise how best at once to rid the palace of the whole pack +of them. That, however, would be small gain so long as the treacherous +officers of state continued in it. They must be first dealt with. A +thought came to him, and the longer he looked at it the better he liked +it. + +As soon as the servants were gone, quarrelling and accusing all the +way, they returned and finished their supper. Then Curdie, who had +long been satisfied that Lina understood almost every word he said, +communicated his plan to her, and knew by the wagging of her tail and +the flashing of her eyes that she comprehended it. Until they had the +king safe through the worst part of the night, however, nothing could +be done. + +They had now merely to go on waiting where they were till the household +should be asleep. This waiting and waiting was much the hardest thing +Curdie had to do in the whole affair. He took his mattock and, going +again into the long passage, lighted a candle end and proceeded to +examine the rock on all sides. But this was not merely to pass the +time: he had a reason for it. When he broke the stone in the street, +over which the baker fell, its appearance led him to pocket a fragment +for further examination; and since then he had satisfied himself that +it was the kind of stone in which gold is found, and that the yellow +particles in it were pure metal. If such stone existed here in any +plenty, he could soon make the king rich and independent of his +ill-conditioned subjects. He was therefore now bent on an examination +of the rock; nor had he been at it long before he was persuaded that +there were large quantities of gold in the half-crystalline white +stone, with its veins of opaque white and of green, of which the rock, +so far as he had been able to inspect it, seemed almost entirely to +consist. Every piece he broke was spotted with particles and little +lumps of a lovely greenish yellow--and that was gold. Hitherto he had +worked only in silver, but he had read, and heard talk, and knew, +therefore, about gold. As soon as he had got the king free of rogues +and villains, he would have all the best and most honest miners, with +his father at the head of them, to work this rock for the king. + +It was a great delight to him to use his mattock once more. The time +went quickly, and when he left the passage to go to the king's chamber, +he had already a good heap of fragments behind the broken door. + + + +CHAPTER 23 + +Dr Kelman + +As soon as he had reason to hope the way was clear, Curdie ventured +softly into the hall, with Lina behind him. There was no one asleep on +the bench or floor, but by the fading fire sat a girl weeping. It was +the same who had seen him carrying off the food, and had been so hardly +used for saying so. She opened her eyes when he appeared, but did not +seem frightened at him. + +'I know why you weep,' said Curdie, 'and I am sorry for you.' + +'It is hard not to be believed just because one speaks the truth,' said +the girl, 'but that seems reason enough with some people. My mother +taught me to speak the truth, and took such pains with me that I should +find it hard to tell a lie, though I could invent many a story these +servants would believe at once; for the truth is a strange thing here, +and they don't know it when they see it. Show it them, and they all +stare as if it were a wicked lie, and that with the lie yet warm that +has just left their own mouths! You are a stranger,' she said, and +burst out weeping afresh, 'but the stranger you are to such a place and +such people the better!' + +'I am the person,' said Curdie, whom you saw carrying the things from +the supper table.' He showed her the loaf. 'If you can trust, as well +as speak the truth, I will trust you. Can you trust me?' + +She looked at him steadily for a moment. + +'I can,' she answered. + +'One thing more,' said Curdie: 'have you courage as well as truth?' + +'I think so.' + +'Look my dog in the face and don't cry out. Come here, Lina.' + +Lina obeyed. The girl looked at her, and laid her hand on Lina's head. + +'Now I know you are a true woman,' said curdie. 'I am come to set +things right in this house. Not one of the servants knows I am here. +Will you tell them tomorrow morning that, if they do not alter their +ways, and give over drinking, and lying, and stealing, and unkindness, +they shall every one of them be driven from the palace?' + +'They will not believe me.' + +'Most likely; but will you give them the chance?' + +'I will.' + +'Then I will be your friend. Wait here till I come again.' + +She looked him once more in the face, and sat down. + +When he reached the royal chamber, he found His Majesty awake, and very +anxiously expecting him. He received him with the utmost kindness, and +at once, as it were, put himself in his hands by telling him all he +knew concerning the state he was in. His voice was feeble, but his eye +was clear, although now and then his words and thoughts seemed to +wander. Curdie could not be certain that the cause of their not being +intelligible to him did not lie in himself. The king told him that for +some years, ever since his queen's death, he had been losing heart over +the wickedness of his people. He had tried hard to make them good, but +they got worse and worse. Evil teachers, unknown to him, had crept +into the schools; there was a general decay of truth and right +principle at least in the city; and as that set the example to the +nation, it must spread. + +The main cause of his illness was the despondency with which the +degeneration of his people affected him. He could not sleep, and had +terrible dreams; while, to his unspeakable shame and distress, he +doubted almost everybody. He had striven against his suspicion, but in +vain, and his heart was sore, for his courtiers and councillors were +really kind; only he could not think why none of their ladies came near +his princess. The whole country was discontented, he heard, and there +were signs of gathering storm outside as well as inside his borders. +The master of the horse gave him sad news of the insubordination of the +army; and his great white horse was dead, they told him; and his sword +had lost its temper: it bent double the last time he tried it!--only +perhaps that was in a dream; and they could not find his shield; and +one of his spurs had lost the rowel. + +Thus the poor king went wandering in a maze of sorrows, some of which +were purely imaginary, while others were truer than he understood. He +told how thieves came at night and tried to take his crown, so that he +never dared let it out of his hands even when he slept; and how, every +night, an evil demon in the shape of his physician came and poured +poison down his throat. He knew it to be poison, he said, somehow, +although it tasted like wine. + +Here he stopped, faint with the unusual exertion of talking. + +Curdie seized the flagon, and ran to the wine cellar. + +In the servants' hall the girl still sat by the fire, waiting for him. +As he returned he told her to follow him, and left her at the chamber +door until he should rejoin her. When the king had had a little wine, +he informed him that he had already discovered certain of His Majesty's +enemies, and one of the worst of them was the doctor, for it was no +other demon than the doctor himself who had been coming every night, +and giving him a slow poison. + +'So!' said the king. 'Then I have not been suspicious enough, for I +thought it was but a dream! Is it possible Kelman can be such a +wretch? Who then am I to trust?' + +'Not one in the house, except the princess and myself,' said Curdie. + +'I will not go to sleep,' said the king. + +'That would be as bad as taking the poison,' said Curdie. 'No, no, +sire; you must show your confidence by leaving all the watching to me, +and doing all the sleeping Your Majesty can.' + +The king smiled a contented smile, turned on his side, and was +presently fast asleep. Then Curdie persuaded the princess also to go +to sleep, and telling Lina to watch, went to the housemaid. He asked +her if she could inform him which of the council slept in the palace, +and show him their rooms. She knew every one of them, she said, and +took him the round of all their doors, telling him which slept in each +room. He then dismissed her, and returning to the king's chamber, +seated himself behind a curtain at the head of the bed, on the side +farthest from the king. He told Lina to get under the bed, and make no +noise. + +About one o'clock the doctor came stealing in. He looked round for the +princess, and seeing no one, smiled with satisfaction as he approached +the wine where it stood under the lamp. Having partly filled a glass, +he took from his pocket a small phial, and filled up the glass from it. +The light fell upon his face from above, and Curdie saw the snake in it +plainly visible. He had never beheld such an evil countenance: the man +hated the king, and delighted in doing him wrong. + +With the glass in his hand, he drew near the bed, set it down, and +began his usual rude rousing of His Majesty. Not at once succeeding, +he took a lancet from his pocket, and was parting its cover with an +involuntary hiss of hate between his closed teeth, when Curdie stooped +and whispered to Lina. + +'Take him by the leg, Lina.' She darted noiselessly upon him. With a +face of horrible consternation, he gave his leg one tug to free it; the +next instant Curdie heard the one scrunch with which she crushed the +bone like a stick of celery. He tumbled on the floor with a yell. + +'Drag him out, Lina,' said Curdie. Lina took him by the collar, and +dragged him out. Her master followed her to direct her, and they left +the doctor lying across the lord chamberlain's door, where he gave +another horrible yell, and fainted. + +The king had waked at his first cry, and by the time Curdie re-entered +he had got at his sword where it hung from the centre of the tester, +had drawn it, and was trying to get out of bed. But when Curdie told +him all was well, he lay down again as quietly as a child comforted by +his mother from a troubled dream. Curdie went to the door to watch. + +The doctor's yells had aroused many, but not one had yet ventured to +appear. Bells were rung violently, but none were answered; and in a +minute or two Curdie had what he was watching for. The door of the +lord chamberlain's room opened, and, pale with hideous terror, His +Lordship peeped out. Seeing no one, he advanced to step into the +corridor, and tumbled over the doctor. Curdie ran up, and held out his +hand. He received in it the claw of a bird of prey--vulture or eagle, +he could not tell which. + +His Lordship, as soon as he was on his legs, taking him for one of the +pages abused him heartily for not coming sooner, and threatened him +with dismissal from the king's service for cowardice and neglect. He +began indeed what bade fair to be a sermon on the duties of a page, but +catching sight of the man who lay at his door, and seeing it was the +doctor, he fell upon Curdie afresh for standing there doing nothing, +and ordered him to fetch immediate assistance. Curdie left him, but +slipped into the King's chamber, closed and locked the door, and left +the rascals to look after each other. Ere long he heard hurrying +footsteps, and for a few minutes there was a great muffled tumult of +scuffling feet, low voices and deep groanings; then all was still again. + +Irene slept through the whole--so confidently did she rest, knowing +Curdie was in her father's room watching over him. + + + +CHAPTER 24 + +The Prophecy + +Curdie sat and watched every motion of the sleeping king. All the +night, to his ear, the palace lay as quiet as a nursery of healthful +children. At sunrise he called the princess. + +'How has His Majesty slept?' were her first words as she entered the +room. + +'Quite quietly,' answered Curdie; 'that is, since the doctor was got +rid of.' + +'How did you manage that?' inquired Irene; and Curdie had to tell all +about it. + +'How terrible!' she said. 'Did it not startle the king dreadfully?' + +'It did rather. I found him getting out of bed, sword in hand.' + +'The brave old man!' cried the princess. + +'Not so old!' said Curdie, 'as you will soon see. He went off again in +a minute or so; but for a little while he was restless, and once when +he lifted his hand it came down on the spikes of his crown, and he half +waked.' + +'But where is the crown?' cried Irene, in sudden terror. + +'I stroked his hands,' answered Curdie, 'and took the crown from them; +and ever since he has slept quietly, and again and again smiled in his +sleep.' + +'I have never seen him do that,' said the princess. 'But what have you +done with the crown, Curdie?' + +'Look,' said Curdie, moving away from the bedside. + +Irene followed him--and there, in the middle of the floor, she saw a +strange sight. Lina lay at full length, fast asleep, her tail +stretched out straight behind her and her forelegs before her: between +the two paws meeting in front of it, her nose just touching it behind, +glowed and flashed the crown, like a nest of the humming birds of +heaven. + +Irene gazed, and looked up with a smile. + +'But what if the thief were to come, and she not to wake?' she said. +'Shall I try her?' And as she spoke she stooped toward the crown. + +'No, no, no!' cried Curdie, terrified. 'She would frighten you out of +your wits. I would do it to show you, but she would wake your father. +You have no conception with what a roar she would spring at my throat. +But you shall see how lightly she wakes the moment I speak to her. +Lina!' + +She was on her feet the same instant, with her great tail sticking out +straight behind her, just as it had been lying. + +'Good dog!' said the princess, and patted her head. Lina wagged her +tail solemnly, like the boom of an anchored sloop. Irene took the +crown, and laid it where the king would see it when he woke. + +'Now, Princess,' said Curdie, 'I must leave you for a few minutes. You +must bolt the door, please, and not open it to any one.' + +Away to the cellar he went with Lina, taking care, as they passed +through the servants' hall, to get her a good breakfast. In about one +minute she had eaten what he gave her, and looked up in his face: it +was not more she wanted, but work. So out of the cellar they went +through the passage, and Curdie into the dungeon, where he pulled up +Lina, opened the door, let her out, and shut it again behind her. As +he reached the door of the king's chamber, Lina was flying out of the +gate of Gwyntystorm as fast as her mighty legs could carry her. + +'What's come to the wench?' growled the menservants one to another, +when the chambermaid appeared among them the next morning. There was +something in her face which they could not understand, and did not like. + +'Are we all dirt?' they said. 'What are you thinking about? Have you +seen yourself in the glass this morning, miss?' + +She made no answer. + +'Do you want to be treated as you deserve, or will you speak, you +hussy?' said the first woman-cook. 'I would fain know what right you +have to put on a face like that!' + +'You won't believe me,' said the girl. + +'Of course not. What is it?' + +'I must tell you, whether you believe me or not,' she said. + +'Of course you must.' + +'It is this, then: if you do not repent of your bad ways, you are all +going to be punished--all turned out of the palace together.' + +'A mighty punishment!' said the butler. 'A good riddance, say I, of +the trouble of keeping minxes like you in order! And why, pray, should +we be turned out? What have I to repent of now, your holiness?' + +'That you know best yourself,' said the girl. + +'A pretty piece of insolence! How should I know, forsooth, what a +menial like you has got against me! There are people in this +house--oh! I'm not blind to their ways!--but every one for himself, say +I! Pray, Miss judgement, who gave you such an impertinent message to +His Majesty's household?' + +'One who is come to set things right in the king's house.' + +'Right, indeed!' cried the butler; but that moment the thought came +back to him of the roar he had heard in the cellar, and he turned pale +and was silent. + +The steward took it up next. + +'And pray, pretty prophetess,' he said, attempting to chuck her under +the chin, 'what have I got to repent of?' + +'That you know best yourself,' said the girl. 'You have but to look +into your books or your heart.' + +'Can you tell me, then, what I have to repent of?' said the groom of +the chambers. 'That you know best yourself,' said the girl once more. +'The person who told me to tell you said the servants of this house had +to repent of thieving, and lying, and unkindness, and drinking; and +they will be made to repent of them one way, if they don't do it of +themselves another.' + +Then arose a great hubbub; for by this time all the servants in the +house were gathered about her, and all talked together, in towering +indignation. + +'Thieving, indeed!' cried one. 'A pretty word in a house where +everything is left lying about in a shameless way, tempting poor +innocent girls! A house where nobody cares for anything, or has the +least respect to the value of property!' + +'I suppose you envy me this brooch of mine,' said another. 'There was +just a half sheet of note paper about it, not a scrap more, in a drawer +that's always open in the writing table in the study! What sort of a +place is that for a jewel? Can you call it stealing to take a thing +from such a place as that? Nobody cared a straw about it. It might as +well have been in the dust hole! If it had been locked up--then, to be +sure!' + +'Drinking!' said the chief porter, with a husky laugh. 'And who +wouldn't drink when he had a chance? Or who would repent it, except +that the drink was gone? Tell me that, Miss Innocence.' + +'Lying!' said a great, coarse footman. 'I suppose you mean when I told +you yesterday you were a pretty girl when you didn't pout? Lying, +indeed! Tell us something worth repenting of! Lying is the way of +Gwyntystorm. You should have heard Jabez lying to the cook last night! +He wanted a sweetbread for his pup, and pretended it was for the +princess! Ha! ha! ha!' + +'Unkindness! I wonder who's unkind! Going and listening to any +stranger against her fellow servants, and then bringing back his wicked +words to trouble them!' said the oldest and worst of the housemaids. +'One of ourselves, too! Come, you hypocrite! This is all an invention +of yours and your young man's, to take your revenge of us because we +found you out in a lie last night. Tell true now: wasn't it the same +that stole the loaf and the pie that sent you with the impudent +message?' + +As she said this, she stepped up to the housemaid and gave her, instead +of time to answer, a box on the ear that almost threw her down; and +whoever could get at her began to push and bustle and pinch and punch +her. + +'You invite your fate,' she said quietly. + +They fell furiously upon her, drove her from the hall with kicks and +blows, hustled her along the passage, and threw her down the stair to +the wine cellar, then locked the door at the top of it, and went back +to their breakfast. + +In the meantime the king and the princess had had their bread and wine, +and the princess, with Curdie's help, had made the room as tidy as she +could--they were terribly neglected by the servants. And now Curdie set +himself to interest and amuse the king, and prevent him from thinking +too much, in order that he might the sooner think the better. +Presently, at His Majesty's request, he began from the beginning, and +told everything he could recall of his life, about his father and +mother and their cottage on the mountain, of the inside of the mountain +and the work there, about the goblins and his adventures with them. + +When he came to finding the princess and her nurse overtaken by the +twilight on the mountain, Irene took up her share of the tale, and told +all about herself to that point, and then Curdie took it up again; and +so they went on, each fitting in the part that the other did not know, +thus keeping the hoop of the story running straight; and the king +listened with wondering and delighted ears, astonished to find what he +could so ill comprehend, yet fitting so well together from the lips of +two narrators. + +At last, with the mission given him by the wonderful princess and his +consequent adventures, Curdie brought up the whole tale to the present +moment. Then a silence fell, and Irene and Curdie thought the king was +asleep. But he was far from it; he was thinking about many things. +After a long pause he said: + +'Now at last, MY children, I am compelled to believe many things I +could not and do not yet understand--things I used to hear, and +sometimes see, as often as I visited my mother's home. Once, for +instance, I heard my mother say to her father--speaking of me--"He is a +good, honest boy, but he will be an old man before he understands"; and +my grandfather answered, "Keep up your heart, child: my mother will +look after him." I thought often of their words, and the many strange +things besides I both heard and saw in that house; but by degrees, +because I could not understand them, I gave up thinking of them. And +indeed I had almost forgotten them, when you, my child, talking that +day about the Queen Irene and her pigeons, and what you had seen in her +garret, brought them all back to my mind in a vague mass. But now they +keep coming back to me, one by one, every one for itself; and I shall +just hold my peace, and lie here quite still, and think about them all +till I get well again.' + +What he meant they could not quite understand, but they saw plainly +that already he was better. + +'Put away my crown,' he said. 'I am tired of seeing it, and have no +more any fear of its safety.' They put it away together, withdrew from +the bedside, and left him in peace. + + + +CHAPTER 25 + +The Avengers + +There was nothing now to be dreaded from Dr Kelman, but it made Curdie +anxious, as the evening drew near, to think that not a soul belonging +to the court had been to visit the king, or ask how he did, that day. +He feared, in some shape or other, a more determined assault. He had +provided himself a place in the room, to which he might retreat upon +approach, and whence he could watch; but not once had he had to betake +himself to it. + +Towards night the king fell asleep. Curdie thought more and more +uneasily of the moment when he must again leave them for a little +while. Deeper and deeper fell the shadows. No one came to light the +lamp. The princess drew her chair close to Curdie: she would rather it +were not so dark, she said. She was afraid of something--she could not +tell what; nor could she give any reason for her fear but that all was +so dreadfully still. + +When it had been dark about an hour, Curdie thought Lina might have +returned; and reflected that the sooner he went the less danger was +there of any assault while he was away. There was more risk of his own +presence being discovered, no doubt, but things were now drawing to a +crisis, and it must be run. So, telling the princess to lock all the +doors of the bedchamber, and let no one in, he took his mattock, and +with here a run, and there a halt under cover, gained the door at the +head of the cellar stair in safety. To his surprise he found it +locked, and the key was gone. There was no time for deliberation. He +felt where the lock was, and dealt it a tremendous blow with his +mattock. It needed but a second to dash the door open. Someone laid a +hand on his arm. + +'Who is it?' said Curdie. + +'I told you they wouldn't believe me, sir,' said the housemaid. 'I +have been here all day.' + +He took her hand, and said, 'You are a good, brave girl. Now come with +me, lest your enemies imprison you again.' + +He took her to the cellar, locked the door, lighted a bit of candle, +gave her a little wine, told her to wait there till he came, and went +out the back way. + +Swiftly he swung himself up into the dungeon. Lina had done her part. +The place was swarming with creatures--animal forms wilder and more +grotesque than ever ramped in nightmare dream. Close by the hole, +waiting his coming, her green eyes piercing the gulf below, Lina had +but just laid herself down when he appeared. All about the vault and +up the slope of the rubbish heap lay and stood and squatted the +forty-nine whose friendship Lina had conquered in the wood. They all +came crowding about Curdie. + +He must get them into the cellar as quickly as ever he could. But when +he looked at the size of some of them, he feared it would be a long +business to enlarge the hole sufficiently to let them through. At it +he rushed, hitting vigorously at the edge with his mattock. At the +very first blow came a splash from the water beneath, but ere he could +heave a third, a creature like a tapir, only that the grasping point of +its proboscis was hard as the steel of Curdie's hammer, pushed him +gently aside, making room for another creature, with a head like a +great club, which it began banging upon the floor with terrible force +and noise. After about a minute of this battery, the tapir came up +again, shoved Clubhead aside, and putting its own head into the hole +began gnawing at the sides of it with the finger of its nose, in such a +fashion that the fragments fell in a continuous gravelly shower into +the water. In a few minutes the opening was large enough for the +biggest creature among them to get through it. + +Next came the difficulty of letting them down: some were quite light, +but the half of them were too heavy for the rope, not to say for his +arms. The creatures themselves seemed to be puzzling where or how they +were to go. One after another of them came up, looked down through the +hole, and drew back. Curdie thought if he let Lina down, perhaps that +would suggest something; possibly they did not see the opening on the +other side. He did so, and Lina stood lighting up the entrance of the +passage with her gleaming eyes. + +One by one the creatures looked down again, and one by one they drew +back, each standing aside to glance at the next, as if to say, Now you +have a look. At last it came to the turn of the serpent with the long +body, the four short legs behind, and the little wings before. No +sooner had he poked his head through than he poked it farther +through--and farther, and farther yet, until there was little more than +his legs left in the dungeon. By that time he had got his head and +neck well into the passage beside Lina. Then his legs gave a great +waddle and spring, and he tumbled himself, far as there was betwixt +them, heels over head into the passage. + +'That is all very well for you, Mr Legserpent!' thought Curdie to +himself; 'but what is to be done with the rest?' He had hardly time to +think it, however, before the creature's head appeared again through +the floor. He caught hold of the bar of iron to which Curdie's rope +was tied, and settling it securely across the narrowest part of the +irregular opening, held fast to it with his teeth. It was plain to +Curdie, from the universal hardness among them, that they must all, at +one time or another, have been creatures of the mines. + +He saw at once what this one was after. The beast had planted his feet +firmly upon the floor of the passage, and stretched his long body up +and across the chasm to serve as a bridge for the rest. Curdie mounted +instantly upon his neck, threw his arms round him as far as they would +go, and slid down in ease and safety, the bridge just bending a little +as his weight glided over it. But he thought some of the creatures +would try the legserpent's teeth. + +One by one the oddities followed, and slid down in safety. When they +seemed to be all landed, he counted them: there were but forty-eight. +Up the rope again he went, and found one which had been afraid to trust +himself to the bridge, and no wonder! for he had neither legs nor head +nor arms nor tail: he was just a round thing, about a foot in diameter, +with a nose and mouth and eyes on one side of the ball. He had made +his journey by rolling as swiftly as the fleetest of them could run. +The back of the legserpent not being flat, he could not quite trust +himself to roll straight and not drop into the gulf. Curdie took him +in his arms, and the moment he looked down through the hole, the bridge +made itself again, and he slid into the passage in safety, with +Ballbody in his bosom. + +He ran first to the cellar to warn the girl not to be frightened at the +avengers of wickedness. Then he called to Lina to bring in her friends. + +One after another they came trooping in, till the cellar seemed full of +them. The housemaid regarded them without fear. + +'Sir,' she said, 'there is one of the pages I don't take to be a bad +fellow.' + +'Then keep him near you,' said Curdie. 'And now can you show me a way +to the king's chamber not through the servants' hall?' + +'There is a way through the chamber of the colonel of the guard,' she +answered, 'but he is ill, and in bed.' + +'Take me that way,' said Curdie. + +By many ups and downs and windings and turnings she brought him to a +dimly lighted room, where lay an elderly man asleep. His arm was +outside the coverlid, and Curdie gave his hand a hurried grasp as he +went by. His heart beat for joy, for he had found a good, honest, +human hand. + +'I suppose that is why he is ill,' he said to himself. + +It was now close upon suppertime, and when the girl stopped at the door +of the king's chamber, he told her to go and give the servants one +warning more. + +'Say the messenger sent you,' he said. 'I will be with you very soon.' + +The king was still asleep. Curdie talked to the princess for a few +minutes, told her not to be frightened whatever noises she heard, only +to keep her door locked till he came, and left her. + + + +CHAPTER 26 + +The Vengeance + +By the time the girl reached the servants' hall they were seated at +supper. A loud, confused exclamation arose when she entered. No one +made room for her; all stared with unfriendly eyes. A page, who +entered the next minute by another door, came to her side. + +'Where do you come from, hussy?' shouted the butler, and knocked his +fist on the table with a loud clang. + +He had gone to fetch wine, had found the stair door broken open and the +cellar door locked, and had turned and fled. Among his fellows, +however, he had now regained what courage could be called his. + +'From the cellar,' she replied. 'The messenger broke open the door, +and sent me to you again.' + +'The messenger! Pooh! What messenger?' + +'The same who sent me before to tell you to repent.' + +'What! Will you go fooling it still? Haven't you had enough of it?' +cried the butler in a rage, and starting to his feet, drew near +threateningly. + +'I must do as I am told,' said the girl. + +'Then why don't you do as I tell you, and hold your tongue?' said the +butler. 'Who wants your preachments? If anybody here has anything to +repent Of, isn't that enough--and more than enough for him--but you +must come bothering about, and stirring up, till not a drop of quiet +will settle inside him? You come along with me, young woman; we'll see +if we can't find a lock somewhere in the house that'll hold you in!' + +'Hands off, Mr Butler!' said the page, and stepped between. + +'Oh, ho!' cried the butler, and pointed his fat finger at him. 'That's +you, is it, my fine fellow? So it's you that's up to her tricks, is +it?' + +The youth did not answer, only stood with flashing eyes fixed on him, +until, growing angrier and angrier, but not daring a step nearer, he +burst out with a rude but quavering authority: + +'Leave the house, both of you! Be off, or I'll have Mr Steward to talk +to you. Threaten your masters, indeed! Out of the house with you, and +show us the way you tell us of!' + +Two or three of the footmen got up and ranged themselves behind the +butler. + +'Don't say I threaten you, Mr Butler,' expostulated the girl from +behind the page. 'The messenger said I was to tell you again, and give +you one chance more.' + +'Did the messenger mention me in particular?' asked the butler, looking +the page unsteadily in the face. + +'No, sir,' answered the girl. + +'I thought not! I should like to hear him!' + +'Then hear him now,' said Curdie, who that moment entered at the +opposite corner of the hall. 'I speak of the butler in particular when +I say that I know more evil of him than of any of the rest. He will not +let either his own conscience or my messenger speak to him: I therefore +now speak myself. I proclaim him a villain, and a traitor to His +Majesty the king. But what better is any one of you who cares only for +himself, eats, drinks, takes good money, and gives vile service in +return, stealing and wasting the king's property, and making of the +palace, which ought to be an example of order and sobriety, a disgrace +to the country?' + +For a moment all stood astonished into silence by this bold speech from +a stranger. True, they saw by his mattock over his shoulder that he +was nothing but a miner boy, yet for a moment the truth told +notwithstanding. Then a great roaring laugh burst from the biggest of +the footmen as he came shouldering his way through the crowd toward +Curdie. + +'Yes, I'm right,' he cried; 'I thought as much! This messenger, +forsooth, is nothing but a gallows bird--a fellow the city marshal was +going to hang, but unfortunately put it off till he should be starved +enough to save rope and be throttled with a pack thread. He broke +prison, and here he is preaching!' As he spoke, he stretched out his +great hand to lay hold of him. Curdie caught it in his left hand, and +heaved his mattock with the other. Finding, however, nothing worse +than an ox hoof, he restrained himself, stepped back a pace or two, +shifted his mattock to his left hand, and struck him a little smart +blow on the shoulder. His arm dropped by his side, he gave a roar, and +drew back. + +His fellows came crowding upon Curdie. Some called to the dogs; others +swore; the women screamed; the footmen and pages got round him in a +half circle, which he kept from closing by swinging his mattock, and +here and there threatening a blow. + +'Whoever confesses to having done anything wrong in this house, however +small, however great, and means to do better, let him come to this +corner of the room,' he cried. + +None moved but the page, who went toward him skirting the wall. When +they caught sight of him, the crowd broke into a hiss of derision. + +'There! See! Look at the sinner! He confesses! Actually confesses! +Come, what is it you stole? The barefaced hypocrite! There's your sort +to set up for reproving other people! Where's the other now?' + +But the maid had left the room, and they let the page pass, for he +looked dangerous to stop. Curdie had just put him betwixt him and the +wall, behind the door, when in rushed the butler with the huge kitchen +poker, the point of which he had blown red-hot in the fire, followed by +the cook with his longest spit. Through the crowd, which scattered +right and left before them, they came down upon Curdie. Uttering a +shrill whistle, he caught the poker a blow with his mattock, knocking +the point to the ground, while the page behind him started forward, and +seizing the point of the spit, held on to it with both hands, the cook +kicking him furiously. + +Ere the butler could raise the poker again, or the cook recover the +spit, with a roar to terrify the dead, Lina dashed into the room, her +eyes flaming like candles. She went straight at the butler. He was +down in a moment, and she on the top of him, wagging her tail over him +like a lioness. + +'Don't kill him, Lina,' said Curdie. + +'Oh, Mr Miner!' cried the butler. + +'Put your foot on his mouth, Lina,' said Curdie. 'The truth Fear tells +is not much better than her lies.' + +The rest of the creatures now came stalking, rolling, leaping, gliding, +hobbling into the room, and each as he came took the next place along +the wall, until, solemn and grotesque, all stood ranged, awaiting +orders. + +And now some of the culprits were stealing to the doors nearest them. +Curdie whispered to the two creatures next him. Off went Ballbody, +rolling and bounding through the crowd like a spent cannon shot, and +when the foremost reached the door to the corridor, there he lay at the +foot of it grinning; to the other door scuttled a scorpion, as big as a +huge crab. The rest stood so still that some began to think they were +only boys dressed up to look awful; they persuaded themselves they were +only another part of the housemaid's and page's vengeful contrivance, +and their evil spirits began to rise again. Meantime Curdie had, with +a second sharp blow from the hammer of his mattock, disabled the cook, +so that he yielded the spit with a groan. He now turned to the +avengers. + +'Go at them,' he said. + +The whole nine-and-forty obeyed at once, each for himself, and after +his own fashion. A scene of confusion and terror followed. The crowd +scattered like a dance of flies. The creatures had been instructed not +to hurt much, but to hunt incessantly, until everyone had rushed from +the house. The women shrieked, and ran hither and thither through the +hall, pursued each by her own horror, and snapped at by every other in +passing. If one threw herself down in hysterical despair, she was +instantly poked or clawed or nibbled up again. + +Though they were quite as frightened at first, the men did not run so +fast; and by and by some of them finding they were only glared at, and +followed, and pushed, began to summon up courage once more, and with +courage came impudence. The tapir had the big footman in charge: the +fellow stood stock-still, and let the beast come up to him, then put +out his finger and playfully patted his nose. The tapir gave the nose +a little twist, and the finger lay on the floor. + +Then indeed did the footman run. + +Gradually the avengers grew more severe, and the terrors of the +imagination were fast yielding to those of sensuous experience, when a +page, perceiving one of the doors no longer guarded, sprang at it, and +ran out. Another and another followed. Not a beast went after, until, +one by one, they were every one gone from the hall, and the whole crew +in the kitchen. + +There they were beginning to congratulate themselves that all was over, +when in came the creatures trooping after them, and the second act of +their terror and pain began. They were flung about in all directions; +their clothes were torn from them; they were pinched and scratched any- +and everywhere; Ballbody kept rolling up them and over them, confining +his attentions to no one in particular; the scorpion kept grabbing at +their legs with his huge pincers; a three-foot centipede kept screwing +up their bodies, nipping as he went; varied as numerous were their +woes. Nor was it long before the last of them had fled from the +kitchen to the sculleries. + +But thither also they were followed, and there again they were hunted +about. They were bespattered with the dirt of their own neglect; they +were soused in the stinking water that had boiled greens; they were +smeared with rancid dripping; their faces were rubbed in maggots: I +dare not tell all that was done to them. At last they got the door +into a back yard open, and rushed out. Then first they knew that the +wind was howling and the rain falling in sheets. But there was no rest +for them even there. Thither also were they followed by the inexorable +avengers, and the only door here was a door out of the palace: out +every soul of them was driven, and left, some standing, some lying, +some crawling, to the farther buffeting of the waterspouts and +whirlwinds ranging every street of the city. The door was flung to +behind them, and they heard it locked and bolted and barred against +them. + + + +CHAPTER 27 + +More Vengeance + +As soon as they were gone, Curdie brought the creatures back to the +servants' hall, and told them to eat up everything on the table. It was +a sight to see them all standing round it--except such as had to get +upon it--eating and drinking, each after its fashion, without a smile, +or a word, or a glance of fellowship in the act. A very few moments +served to make everything eatable vanish, and then Curdie requested +them to clean house, and the page who stood by to assist them. + +Every one set about it except Ballbody: he could do nothing at +cleaning, for the more he rolled, the more he spread the dirt. Curdie +was curious to know what he had been, and how he had come to be such as +he was: but he could only conjecture that he was a gluttonous alderman +whom nature had treated homeopathically. And now there was such a +cleaning and clearing out of neglected places, such a burying and +burning of refuse, such a rinsing of jugs, such a swilling of sinks, +and such a flushing of drains as would have delighted the eyes of all +true housekeepers and lovers of cleanliness generally. + +Curdie meantime was with the king, telling him all he had done. They +had heard a little noise, but not much, for he had told the avengers to +repress outcry as much as possible; and they had seen to it that the +more anyone cried out the more he had to cry out upon, while the +patient ones they scarcely hurt at all. + +Having promised His Majesty and Her Royal Highness a good breakfast, +Curdie now went to finish the business. The courtiers must be dealt +with. A few who were the worst, and the leaders of the rest, must be +made examples of; the others should be driven to the street. + +He found the chiefs of the conspiracy holding a final consultation in +the smaller room off the hall. These were the lord chamberlain, the +attorney-general, the master of the horse, and the king's private +secretary: the lord chancellor and the rest, as foolish as faithless, +were but the tools of these. + +The housemaid had shown him a little closet, opening from a passage +behind, where he could overhear all that passed in that room; and now +Curdie heard enough to understand that they had determined, in the dead +of that night, rather in the deepest dark before the morning, to bring +a certain company of soldiers into the palace, make away with the king, +secure the princess, announce the sudden death of His Majesty, read as +his the will they had drawn up, and proceed to govern the country at +their ease, and with results: they would at once levy severer taxes, +and pick a quarrel with the most powerful of their neighbours. +Everything settled, they agreed to retire, and have a few hours' quiet +sleep first--all but the secretary, who was to sit up and call them at +the proper moment. Curdie allowed them half an hour to get to bed, and +then set about completing his purgation of the palace. + +First he called Lina, and opened the door of the room where the +secretary sat. She crept in, and laid herself down against it. When +the secretary, rising to stretch his legs, caught sight of her eyes, he +stood frozen with terror. She made neither motion nor sound. +Gathering courage, and taking the thing for a spectral illusion, he +made a step forward. She showed her other teeth, with a growl neither +more than audible nor less than horrible. The secretary sank fainting +into a chair. He was not a brave man, and besides, his conscience had +gone over to the enemy, and was sitting against the door by Lina. + +To the lord chamberlain's door next, Curdie conducted the legserpent, +and let him in. + +Now His Lordship had had a bedstead made for himself, sweetly fashioned +of rods of silver gilt: upon it the legserpent found him asleep, and +under it he crept. But out he came on the other side, and crept over +it next, and again under it, and so over it, under it, over it, five or +six times, every time leaving a coil of himself behind him, until he +had softly folded all his length about the lord chamberlain and his +bed. This done, he set up his head, looking down with curved neck +right over His Lordship's, and began to hiss in his face. + +He woke in terror unspeakable, and would have started up but the moment +he moved, the legserpent drew his coils closer, and closer still, and +drew and drew until the quaking traitor heard the joints of his +bedstead grinding and gnarring. Presently he persuaded himself that it +was only a horrid nightmare, and began to struggle with all his +strength to throw it off. Thereupon the legserpent gave his hooked +nose such a bite that his teeth met through it--but it was hardly +thicker than the bowl of a spoon; and then the vulture knew that he was +in the grasp of his enemy the snake, and yielded. + +As soon as he was quiet the legserpent began to untwist and retwist, to +uncoil and recoil himself, swinging and swaying, knotting and relaxing +himself with strangest curves and convolutions, always, however, +leaving at least one coil around his victim. At last he undid himself +entirely, and crept from the bed. Then first the lord chamberlain +discovered that his tormentor had bent and twisted the bedstead, legs +and canopy and all, so about him that he was shut in a silver cage out +of which it was impossible for him to find a way. Once more, thinking +his enemy was gone, he began to shout for help. But the instant he +opened his mouth his keeper darted at him and bit him, and after three +or four such essays, he lay still. + +The master of the horse Curdie gave in charge to the tapir. When the +soldier saw him enter--for he was not yet asleep--he sprang from his +bed, and flew at him with his sword. But the creature's hide was +invulnerable to his blows, and he pecked at his legs with his proboscis +until he jumped into bed again, groaning, and covered himself up; after +which the tapir contented himself with now and then paying a visit to +his toes. + +As for the attorney-general, Curdie led to his door a huge spider, +about two feet long in the body, which, having made an excellent +supper, was full of webbing. The attorney-general had not gone to bed, +but sat in a chair asleep before a great mirror. He had been trying +the effect of a diamond star which he had that morning taken from the +jewel room. When he woke he fancied himself paralysed; every limb, +every finger even, was motionless: coils and coils of broad spider +ribbon bandaged his members to his body, and all to the chair. In the +glass he saw himself wound about with slavery infinite. On a footstool +a yard off sat the spider glaring at him. + +Clubhead had mounted guard over the butler, where he lay tied hand and +foot under the third cask. From that cask he had seen the wine run +into a great bath, and therein he expected to be drowned. The doctor, +with his crushed leg, needed no one to guard him. + +And now Curdie proceeded to the expulsion of the rest. Great men or +underlings, he treated them all alike. From room to room over the +house he went, and sleeping or waking took the man by the hand. Such +was the state to which a year of wicked rule had reduced the moral +condition of the court, that in it all he found but three with human +hands. The possessors of these he allowed to dress themselves and +depart in peace. When they perceived his mission, and how he was +backed, they yielded. + +Then commenced a general hunt, to clear the house of the vermin. Out of +their beds in their night clothing, out of their rooms, gorgeous +chambers or garret nooks, the creatures hunted them. Not one was +allowed to escape. Tumult and noise there was little, for fear was too +deadly for outcry. Ferreting them out everywhere, following them +upstairs and downstairs, yielding no instant of repose except upon the +way out, the avengers persecuted the miscreants, until the last of them +was shivering outside the palace gates, with hardly sense enough left +to know where to turn. + +When they set out to look for shelter, they found every inn full of the +servants expelled before them, and not one would yield his place to a +superior suddenly levelled with himself. Most houses refused to admit +them on the ground of the wickedness that must have drawn on them such +a punishment; and not a few would have been left in the streets all +night, had not Derba, roused by the vain entreaties at the doors on +each side of her cottage, opened hers, and given up everything to them. +The lord chancellor was only too glad to share a mattress with a +stableboy, and steal his bare feet under his jacket. + +In the morning Curdie appeared, and the outcasts were in terror, +thinking he had come after them again. But he took no notice of them: +his object was to request Derba to go to the palace: the king required +her services. She need take no trouble about her cottage, he said; the +palace was henceforward her home: she was the king's chatelaine over +men and maidens of his household. And this very morning she must cook +His Majesty a nice breakfast. + + + +CHAPTER 28 + +The Preacher + +Various reports went undulating through the city as to the nature of +what had taken place in the palace. The people gathered, and stared at +the house, eyeing it as if it had sprung up in the night. But it looked +sedate enough, remaining closed and silent, like a house that was dead. +They saw no one come out or go in. Smoke arose from a chimney or two; +there was hardly another sign of life. It was not for some little time +generally understood that the highest officers of the crown as well as +the lowest menials of the palace had been dismissed in disgrace: for +who was to recognize a lord chancellor in his nightshirt? And what +lord chancellor would, so attired in the street, proclaim his rank and +office aloud? Before it was day most of the courtiers crept down to the +river, hired boats, and betook themselves to their homes or their +friends in the country. It was assumed in the city that the domestics +had been discharged upon a sudden discovery of general and unpardonable +peculation; for, almost everybody being guilty of it himself, petty +dishonesty was the crime most easily credited and least easily passed +over in Gwyntystorm. + +Now that same day was Religion day, and not a few of the clergy, always +glad to seize on any passing event to give interest to the dull and +monotonic grind of their intellectual machines, made this remarkable +one the ground of discourse to their congregations. More especially +than the rest, the first priest of the great temple where was the royal +pew, judged himself, from his relation to the palace, called upon to +'improve the occasion', for they talked ever about improvement at +Gwyntystorm, all the time they were going down hill with a rush. + +The book which had, of late years, come to be considered the most +sacred, was called The Book of Nations, and consisted of proverbs, and +history traced through custom: from it the first priest chose his text; +and his text was, 'Honesty Is the Best Policy.' He was considered a +very eloquent man, but I can offer only a few of the larger bones of +his sermon. + +The main proof of the verity of their religion, he said, was that +things always went well with those who profess it; and its first +fundamental principle, grounded in inborn invariable instinct, was, +that every One should take care of that One. This was the first duty +of Man. If every one would but obey this law, number one, then would +every one be perfectly cared for--one being always equal to one. But +the faculty of care was in excess of need, and all that overflowed, and +would otherwise run to waste, ought to be gently turned in the +direction of one's neighbour, seeing that this also wrought for the +fulfilling of the law, inasmuch as the reaction of excess so directed +was upon the director of the same, to the comfort, that is, and +well-being of the original self. To be just and friendly was to build +the warmest and safest of all nests, and to be kind and loving was to +line it with the softest of all furs and feathers, for the one +precious, comfort-loving self there to lie, revelling in downiest +bliss. One of the laws therefore most binding upon men because of its +relation to the first and greatest of all duties, was embodied in the +Proverb he had just read; and what stronger proof of its wisdom and +truth could they desire than the sudden and complete vengeance which +had fallen upon those worse than ordinary sinners who had offended +against the king's majesty by forgetting that 'Honesty Is the Best +Policy'? + +At this point of the discourse the head of the legserpent rose from the +floor of the temple, towering above the pulpit, above the priest, then +curving downward, with open mouth slowly descended upon him. Horror +froze the sermon-pump. He stared upward aghast. The great teeth of the +animal closed upon a mouthful of the sacred vestments, and slowly he +lifted the preacher from the pulpit, like a handful of linen from a +washtub, and, on his four solemn stumps, bore him out of the temple, +dangling aloft from his jaws. At the back of it he dropped him into +the dust hole among the remnants of a library whose age had destroyed +its value in the eyes of the chapter. They found him burrowing in it, +a lunatic henceforth--whose madness presented the peculiar feature, +that in its paroxysms he jabbered sense. + +Bone-freezing horror pervaded Gwyntystorm. If their best and wisest +were treated with such contempt, what might not the rest of them look +for? Alas for their city! Their grandly respectable city! Their +loftily reasonable city! Where it was all to end, who could tell! + +But something must be done. Hastily assembling, the priests chose a +new first priest, and in full conclave unanimously declared and +accepted that the king in his retirement had, through the practice of +the blackest magic, turned the palace into a nest of demons in the +midst of them. A grand exorcism was therefore indispensable. + +In the meantime the fact came out that the greater part of the +courtiers had been dismissed as well as the servants, and this fact +swelled the hope of the Party of Decency, as they called themselves. +Upon it they proceeded to act, and strengthened themselves on all sides. + +The action of the king's bodyguard remained for a time uncertain. But +when at length its officers were satisfied that both the master of the +horse and their colonel were missing, they placed themselves under the +orders of the first priest. + +Every one dated the culmination of the evil from the visit of the miner +and his mongrel; and the butchers vowed, if they could but get hold of +them again, they would roast both of them alive. At once they formed +themselves into a regiment, and put their dogs in training for attack. + +Incessant was the talk, innumerable were the suggestions, and great was +the deliberation. The general consent, however, was that as soon as +the priests should have expelled the demons, they would depose the +king, and attired in all his regal insignia, shut him in a cage for +public show; then choose governors, with the lord chancellor at their +head, whose first duty should be to remit every possible tax; and the +magistrates, by the mouth of the city marshal, required all able-bodied +citizens, in order to do their part toward the carrying out of these +and a multitude of other reforms, to be ready to take arms at the first +summons. + +Things needful were prepared as speedily as possible, and a mighty +ceremony, in the temple, in the market place, and in front of the +palace, was performed for the expulsion of the demons. This over, the +leaders retired to arrange an attack upon the palace. + +But that night events occurred which, proving the failure of their +first, induced the abandonment of their second, intent. Certain of the +prowling order of the community, whose numbers had of late been +steadily on the increase, reported frightful things. Demons of +indescribable ugliness had been espied careering through the midnight +streets and courts. A citizen--some said in the very act of +housebreaking, but no one cared to look into trifles at such a +crisis--had been seized from behind, he could not see by what, and +soused in the river. A well-known receiver of stolen goods had had his +shop broken open, and when he came down in the morning had found +everything in ruin on the pavement. The wooden image of justice over +the door of the city marshal had had the arm that held the sword bitten +off. The gluttonous magistrate had been pulled from his bed in the +dark, by beings of which he could see nothing but the flaming eyes, and +treated to a bath of the turtle soup that had been left simmering by +the side of the kitchen fire. Having poured it over him, they put him +again into his bed, where he soon learned how a mummy must feel in its +cerements. + +Worst of all, in the market place was fixed up a paper, with the king's +own signature, to the effect that whoever henceforth should show +inhospitality to strangers, and should be convicted of the same, should +be instantly expelled the city; while a second, in the butchers' +quarter, ordained that any dog which henceforth should attack a +stranger should be immediately destroyed. It was plain, said the +butchers, that the clergy were of no use; they could not exorcise +demons! That afternoon, catching sight of a poor old fellow in rags +and tatters, quietly walking up the street, they hounded their dogs +upon him, and had it not been that the door of Derba's cottage was +standing open, and was near enough for him to dart in and shut it ere +they reached him, he would have been torn in pieces. + +And thus things went on for some days. + + + +CHAPTER 29 + +Barbara + +In the meantime, with Derba to minister to his wants, with Curdie to +protect him, and Irene to nurse him, the king was getting rapidly +stronger. Good food was what he most wanted and of that, at least of +certain kinds of it, there was plentiful store in the palace. +Everywhere since the cleansing of the lower regions of it, the air was +clean and sweet, and under the honest hands of the one housemaid the +king's chamber became a pleasure to his eyes. With such changes it was +no wonder if his heart grew lighter as well as his brain clearer. + +But still evil dreams came and troubled him, the lingering result of +the wicked medicines the doctor had given him. Every night, sometimes +twice or thrice, he would wake up in terror, and it would be minutes +ere he could come to himself. The consequence was that he was always +worse in the morning, and had loss to make up during the day. While he +slept, Irene or Curdie, one or the other, must still be always by his +side. + +One night, when it was Curdie's turn with the king, he heard a cry +somewhere in the house, and as there was no other child, concluded, +notwithstanding the distance of her grandmother's room, that it must be +Barbara. Fearing something might be wrong, and noting the king's sleep +more quiet than usual, he ran to see. He found the child in the middle +of the floor, weeping bitterly, and Derba slumbering peacefully in bed. +The instant she saw him the night-lost thing ceased her crying, smiled, +and stretched out her arms to him. Unwilling to wake the old woman, +who had been working hard all day, he took the child, and carried her +with him. She clung to him so, pressing her tear-wet radiant face +against his, that her little arms threatened to choke him. + +When he re-entered the chamber, he found the king sitting up in bed, +fighting the phantoms of some hideous dream. Generally upon such +occasions, although he saw his watcher, he could not dissociate him +from the dream, and went raving on. But the moment his eyes fell upon +little Barbara, whom he had never seen before, his soul came into them +with a rush, and a smile like the dawn of an eternal day overspread his +countenance; the dream was nowhere, and the child was in his heart. He +stretched out his arms to her, the child stretched out hers to him, and +in five minutes they were both asleep, each in the other's embrace. + +From that night Barbara had a crib in the king's chamber, and as often +as he woke, Irene or Curdie, whichever was watching, took the sleeping +child and laid her in his arms, upon which, invariably and instantly, +the dream would vanish. A great part of the day too she would be +playing on or about the king's bed; and it was a delight to the heart +of the princess to see her amusing herself with the crown, now sitting +upon it, now rolling it hither and thither about the room like a hoop. +Her grandmother entering once while she was pretending to make porridge +in it, held up her hands in horror-struck amazement; but the king would +not allow her to interfere, for the king was now Barbara's playmate, +and his crown their plaything. + +The colonel of the guard also was growing better. Curdie went often to +see him. They were soon friends, for the best people understand each +other the easiest, and the grim old warrior loved the miner boy as if +he were at once his son and his angel. He was very anxious about his +regiment. He said the officers were mostly honest men, he believed, +but how they might be doing without him, or what they might resolve, in +ignorance of the real state of affairs, and exposed to every +misrepresentation, who could tell? Curdie proposed that he should send +for the major, offering to be the messenger. The colonel agreed, and +Curdie went--not without his mattock, because of the dogs. + +But the officers had been told by the master of the horse that their +colonel was dead, and although they were amazed he should be buried +without the attendance of his regiment, they never doubted the +information. The handwriting itself of their colonel was insufficient, +counteracted by the fresh reports daily current, to destroy the lie. +The major regarded the letter as a trap for the next officer in +command, and sent his orderly to arrest the messenger. But Curdie had +had the wisdom not to wait for an answer. + +The king's enemies said that he had first poisoned the good colonel of +the guard, and then murdered the master of the horse, and other +faithful councillors; and that his oldest and most attached domestics +had but escaped from the palace with their lives--not all of them, for +the butler was missing. Mad or wicked, he was not only unfit to rule +any longer, but worse than unfit to have in his power and under his +influence the young princess, only hope of Gwyntystorm and the kingdom. + +The moment the lord chancellor reached his house in the country and had +got himself clothed, he began to devise how yet to destroy his master; +and the very next morning set out for the neighbouring kingdom of +Borsagrass to invite invasion, and offer a compact with its monarch. + + + +CHAPTER 30 + +Peter + +At the cottage in the mountain everything for a time went on just as +before. It was indeed dull without Curdie, but as often as they looked +at the emerald it was gloriously green, and with nothing to fear or +regret, and everything to hope, they required little comforting. One +morning, however, at last, Peter, who had been consulting the gem, +rather now from habit than anxiety, as a farmer his barometer in +undoubtful weather, turned suddenly to his wife, the stone in his hand, +and held it up with a look of ghastly dismay. + +'Why, that's never the emerald!' said Joan. + +'It is,' answered Peter; 'but it were small blame to any one that took +it for a bit of bottle glass!' + +For, all save one spot right in the centre, of intensest and most +brilliant green, it looked as if the colour had been burnt out of it. + +'Run, run, Peter!' cried his wife. 'Run and tell the old princess. It +may not be too late. The boy must be lying at death's door.' + +Without a word Peter caught up his mattock, darted from the cottage, +and was at the bottom of the hill in less time than he usually took to +get halfway. + +The door of the king's house stood open; he rushed in and up the stair. +But after wandering about in vain for an hour, opening door after door, +and finding no way farther up, the heart of the old man had well-nigh +failed him. Empty rooms, empty rooms!--desertion and desolation +everywhere. + +At last he did come upon the door to the tower stair. Up he darted. +Arrived at the top, he found three doors, and, one after the other, +knocked at them all. But there was neither voice nor hearing. Urged +by his faith and his dread, slowly, hesitatingly, he opened one. It +revealed a bare garret room, nothing in it but one chair and one +spinning wheel. He closed it, and opened the next--to start back in +terror, for he saw nothing but a great gulf, a moonless night, full of +stars, and, for all the stars, dark, dark!--a fathomless abyss. He +opened the third door, and a rush like the tide of a living sea invaded +his ears. Multitudinous wings flapped and flashed in the sun, and, +like the ascending column from a volcano, white birds innumerable shot +into the air, darkening the day with the shadow of their cloud, and +then, with a sharp sweep, as if bent sideways by a sudden wind, flew +northward, swiftly away, and vanished. The place felt like a tomb. +There seemed no breath of life left in it. + +Despair laid hold upon him; he rushed down thundering with heavy feet. +Out upon him darted the housekeeper like an ogress-spider, and after +her came her men; but Peter rushed past them, heedless and +careless--for had not the princess mocked him?--and sped along the road +to Gwyntystorm. What help lay in a miner's mattock, a man's arm, a +father's heart, he would bear to his boy. + +Joan sat up all night waiting his return, hoping and hoping. The +mountain was very still, and the sky was clear; but all night long the +miner sped northward, and the heart of his wife was troubled. + + + +CHAPTER 31 + +The Sacrifice + +Things in the palace were in a strange condition: the king playing with +a child and dreaming wise dreams, waited upon by a little princess with +the heart of a queen, and a youth from the mines, who went nowhere, not +even into the king's chamber, without his mattock on his shoulder and a +horrible animal at his heels; in a room nearby the colonel of his +guard, also in bed, without a soldier to obey him; in six other rooms, +far apart, six miscreants, each watched by a beast-jailer; ministers to +them all, an old woman and a page; and in the wine cellar, forty-three +animals, creatures more grotesque than ever brain of man invented. +None dared approach its gates, and seldom one issued from them. + +All the dwellers in the city were united in enmity to the palace. It +swarmed with evil spirits, they said, whereas the evil spirits were in +the city, unsuspected. One consequence of their presence was that, +when the rumour came that a great army was on the march against +Gwyntystorm, instead of rushing to their defences, to make new gates, +free portcullises and drawbridges, and bar the river, each band flew +first to their treasures, burying them in their cellars and gardens, +and hiding them behind stones in their chimneys; and, next to +rebellion, signing an invitation to His Majesty of Borsagrass to enter +at their open gates, destroy their king, and annex their country to his +own. + +The straits of isolation were soon found in the palace: its invalids +were requiring stronger food, and what was to be done? For if the +butchers sent meat to the palace, was it not likely enough to be +poisoned? Curdie said to Derba he would think of some plan before +morning. + +But that same night, as soon as it was dark, Lina came to her master, +and let him understand she wanted to go out. He unlocked a little +private postern for her, left it so that she could push it open when +she returned, and told the crocodile to stretch himself across it +inside. Before midnight she came back with a young deer. + +Early the next morning the legserpent crept out of the wine cellar, +through the broken door behind, shot into the river, and soon appeared +in the kitchen with a splendid sturgeon. Every night Lina went out +hunting, and every morning Legserpent went out fishing, and both +invalids and household had plenty to eat. As to news, the page, in +plain clothes, would now and then venture out into the market place, +and gather some. + +One night he came back with the report that the army of the king of +Borsagrass had crossed the border. Two days after, he brought the news +that the enemy was now but twenty miles from Gwyntystorm. + +The colonel of the guard rose, and began furbishing his armour--but +gave it over to the page, and staggered across to the barracks, which +were in the next street. The sentry took him for a ghost or worse, ran +into the guardroom, bolted the door, and stopped his ears. The poor +colonel, who was yet hardly able to stand, crawled back despairing. + +For Curdie, he had already, as soon as the first rumour reached him, +resolved, if no other instructions came, and the king continued unable +to give orders, to call Lina and the creatures, and march to meet the +enemy. If he died, he died for the right, and there was a right end of +it. He had no preparations to make, except a good sleep. + +He asked the king to let the housemaid take his place by His Majesty +that night, and went and lay down on the floor of the corridor, no +farther off than a whisper would reach from the door of the chamber. +There, with an old mantle of the king's thrown over him, he was soon +fast asleep. + +Somewhere about the middle of the night, he woke suddenly, started to +his feet, and rubbed his eyes. He could not tell what had waked him. +But could he be awake, or was he not dreaming? The curtain of the +king's door, a dull red ever before, was glowing a gorgeous, a radiant +purple; and the crown wrought upon it in silks and gems was flashing as +if it burned! What could it mean? Was the king's chamber on fire? He +darted to the door and lifted the curtain. Glorious terrible sight! + +A long and broad marble table, that stood at one end of the room, had +been drawn into the middle of it, and thereon burned a great fire, of a +sort that Curdie knew--a fire of glowing, flaming roses, red and white. +In the midst of the roses lay the king, moaning, but motionless. Every +rose that fell from the table to the floor, someone, whom Curdie could +not plainly see for the brightness, lifted and laid burning upon the +king's face, until at length his face too was covered with the live +roses, and he lay all within the fire, moaning still, with now and then +a shuddering sob. + +And the shape that Curdie saw and could not see, wept over the king as +he lay in the fire, and often she hid her face in handfuls of her +shadowy hair, and from her hair the water of her weeping dropped like +sunset rain in the light of the roses. At last she lifted a great +armful of her hair, and shook it over the fire, and the drops fell from +it in showers, and they did not hiss in the flames, but there arose +instead as it were the sound of running brooks. + +And the glow of the red fire died away, and the glow of the white fire +grew grey, and the light was gone, and on the table all was +black--except the face of the king, which shone from under the burnt +roses like a diamond in the ashes of a furnace. + +Then Curdie, no longer dazzled, saw and knew the old princess. The +room was lighted with the splendour of her face, of her blue eyes, of +her sapphire crown. Her golden hair went streaming out from her +through the air till it went off in mist and light. She was large and +strong as a Titaness. She stooped over the table-altar, put her mighty +arms under the living sacrifice, lifted the king, as if he were but a +little child, to her bosom, walked with him up the floor, and laid him +in his bed. Then darkness fell. + +The miner boy turned silent away, and laid himself down again in the +corridor. An absolute joy filled his heart, his bosom, his head, his +whole body. All was safe; all was well. With the helve of his mattock +tight in his grasp, he sank into a dreamless sleep. + + + +CHAPTER 32 + +The King's Army + +He woke like a giant refreshed with wine. + +When he went into the king's chamber, the housemaid sat where he had +left her, and everything in the room was as it had been the night +before, save that a heavenly odour of roses filled the air of it. He +went up to the bed. The king opened his eyes, and the soul of perfect +health shone out of them. Nor was Curdie amazed in his delight. + +'Is it not time to rise, Curdie?' said the king. + +'It is, Your Majesty. Today we must be doing,' answered Curdie. + +'What must we be doing today, Curdie?' + +'Fighting, sire.' + +'Then fetch me my armour--that of plated steel, in the chest there. +You will find the underclothing with it.' + +As he spoke, he reached out his hand for his sword, which hung in the +bed before him, drew it, and examined the blade. + +'A little rusty!' he said, 'but the edge is there. We shall polish it +ourselves today--not on the wheel. Curdie, my son, I wake from a +troubled dream. A glorious torture has ended it, and I live. I know +now well how things are, but you shall explain them to me as I get on +my armour. No, I need no bath. I am clean. Call the colonel of the +guard.' + +In complete steel the old man stepped into the chamber. He knew it +not, but the old princess had passed through his room in the night. + +'Why, Sir Bronzebeard!' said the king, 'you are dressed before me! You +need no valet, old man, when there is battle in the wind!' + +'Battle, sire!' returned the colonel. 'Where then are our soldiers?' + +'Why, there and here,' answered the king, pointing to the colonel +first, and then to himself. 'Where else, man? The enemy will be upon +us ere sunset, if we be not upon him ere noon. What other thing was in +your brave brain when you donned your armour, friend?' + +'Your Majesty's orders, sire,' answered Sir Bronzebeard. + +The king smiled and turned to Curdie. + +'And what was in yours, Curdie, for your first word was of battle?' + +'See, Your Majesty,' answered Curdie; 'I have polished my mattock. If +Your Majesty had not taken the command, I would have met the enemy at +the head of my beasts, and died in comfort, or done better.' + +'Brave boy!' said the king. 'He who takes his life in his hand is the +only soldier. You shall head your beasts today. Sir Bronzebeard, will +you die with me if need be?' + +'Seven times, my king,' said the colonel. + +'Then shall we win this battle!' said the king. 'Curdie, go and bind +securely the six, that we lose not their guards. Can you find me a +horse, think you, Sir Bronzebeard? Alas! they told me my white charger +was dead.' + +'I will go and fright the varletry with my presence, and secure, I +trust, a horse for Your Majesty, and one for myself.' + +'And look you, brother!' said the king; 'bring one for my miner boy +too, and a sober old charger for the princess, for she too must go to +the battle, and conquer with us.' + +'Pardon me, sire,' said Curdie; 'a miner can fight best on foot. I +might smite my horse dead under me with a missed blow. And besides +that, I must be near to my beasts.' + +'As you will,' said the king. 'Three horses then, Sir Bronzebeard.' + +The colonel departed, doubting sorely in his heart how to accoutre and +lead from the barrack stables three horses, in the teeth of his +revolted regiment. + +In the hall he met the housemaid. + +'Can you lead a horse?' he asked. + +'Yes, sir.' + +'Are you willing to die for the king?' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'Can you do as you are bid?' + +'I can keep on trying, sir.' + +'Come then. Were I not a man I would be a woman such as you.' + +When they entered the barrack yard, the soldiers scattered like autumn +leaves before a blast of winter. They went into the stable +unchallenged--and lo! in a stall, before the colonel's eyes, stood the +king's white charger, with the royal saddle and bridle hung high beside +him! + +'Traitorous thieves!' muttered the old man in his beard, and went along +the stalls, looking for his own black charger. Having found him, he +returned to saddle first the king's. But the maid had already the +saddle upon him, and so girt that the colonel could thrust no finger +tip between girth and skin. He left her to finish what she had so well +begun, and went and made ready his own. He then chose for the princess +a great red horse, twenty years old, which he knew to possess every +equine virtue. This and his own he led to the palace, and the maid led +the king's. + +The king and Curdie stood in the court, the king in full armour of +silvered steel, with a circlet of rubies and diamonds round his helmet. +He almost leaped for joy when he saw his great white charger come in, +gentle as a child to the hand of the housemaid. But when the horse saw +his master in his armour, he reared and bounded in jubilation, yet did +not break from the hand that held him. Then out came the princess +attired and ready, with a hunting knife her father had given her by her +side. They brought her mother's saddle, splendent with gems and gold, +set it on the great red horse, and lifted her to it. But the saddle +was so big, and the horse so tall, that the child found no comfort in +them. + +'Please, King Papa,' she said, 'can I not have my white pony?' + +'I did not think of him, little one,' said the king. 'Where is he?' + +'In the stable,' answered the maid. 'I found him half starved, the +only horse within the gates, the day after the servants were driven +out. He has been well fed since.' + +'Go and fetch him,' said the king. + +As the maid appeared with the pony, from a side door came Lina and the +forty-nine, following Curdie. + +'I will go with Curdie and the Uglies,' cried the princess; and as soon +as she was mounted she got into the middle of the pack. + +So out they set, the strangest force that ever went against an enemy. +The king in silver armour sat stately on his white steed, with the +stones flashing on his helmet; beside him the grim old colonel, armed +in steel, rode his black charger; behind the king, a little to the +right, Curdie walked afoot, his mattock shining in the sun; Lina +followed at his heel; behind her came the wonderful company of Uglies; +in the midst of them rode the gracious little Irene, dressed in blue, +and mounted on the prettiest of white ponies; behind the colonel, a +little to the left, walked the page, armed in a breastplate, headpiece, +and trooper's sword he had found in the palace, all much too big for +him, and carrying a huge brass trumpet which he did his best to blow; +and the king smiled and seemed pleased with his music, although it was +but the grunt of a brazen unrest. Alongside the beasts walked Derba +carrying Barbara--their refuge the mountains, should the cause of the +king be lost; as soon as they were over the river they turned aside to +ascend the Cliff, and there awaited the forging of the day's history. +Then first Curdie saw that the housemaid, whom they had all forgotten, +was following, mounted on the great red horse, and seated in the royal +saddle. + +Many were the eyes unfriendly of women that had stared at them from +door and window as they passed through the city; and low laughter and +mockery and evil words from the lips of children had rippled about +their ears; but the men were all gone to welcome the enemy, the +butchers the first, the king's guard the last. And now on the heels of +the king's army rushed out the women and children also, to gather +flowers and branches, wherewith to welcome their conquerors. + +About a mile down the river, Curdie, happening to look behind him, saw +the maid, whom he had supposed gone with Derba, still following on the +great red horse. The same moment the king, a few paces in front of +him, caught sight of the enemy's tents, pitched where, the cliffs +receding, the bank of the river widened to a little plain. + + + +CHAPTER 33 + +The Battle + +He commanded the page to blow his trumpet; and, in the strength of the +moment, the youth uttered a right warlike defiance. + +But the butchers and the guard, who had gone over armed to the enemy, +thinking that the king had come to make his peace also, and that it +might thereafter go hard with them, rushed at once to make short work +with him, and both secure and commend themselves. The butchers came on +first--for the guards had slackened their saddle girths--brandishing +their knives, and talking to their dogs. Curdie and the page, with Lina +and her pack, bounded to meet them. Curdie struck down the foremost +with his mattock. The page, finding his sword too much for him, threw +it away and seized the butcher's knife, which as he rose he plunged +into the foremost dog. Lina rushed raging and gnashing among them. She +would not look at a dog so long as there was a butcher on his legs, and +she never stopped to kill a butcher, only with one grind of her jaws +crushed a leg of him. When they were all down, then indeed she flashed +among the dogs. + +Meantime the king and the colonel had spurred toward the advancing +guard. The king clove the major through skull and collar bone, and the +colonel stabbed the captain in the throat. Then a fierce combat +commenced--two against many. But the butchers and their dogs quickly +disposed of, up came Curdie and his beasts. The horses of the guard, +struck with terror, turned in spite of the spur, and fled in confusion. + +Thereupon the forces of Borsagrass, which could see little of the +affair, but correctly imagined a small determined body in front of +them, hastened to the attack. No sooner did their first advancing wave +appear through the foam of the retreating one, than the king and the +colonel and the page, Curdie and the beasts, went charging upon them. +Their attack, especially the rush of the Uglies, threw the first line +into great confusion, but the second came up quickly; the beasts could +not be everywhere, there were thousands to one against them, and the +king and his three companions were in the greatest possible danger. + +A dense cloud came over the sun, and sank rapidly toward the earth. The +cloud moved all together, and yet the thousands of white flakes of +which it was made up moved each for itself in ceaseless and rapid +motion: those flakes were the wings of pigeons. Down swooped the birds +upon the invaders; right in the face of man and horse they flew with +swift-beating wings, blinding eyes and confounding brain. Horses +reared and plunged and wheeled. All was at once in confusion. The men +made frantic efforts to seize their tormentors, but not one could they +touch; and they outdoubled them in numbers. Between every wild clutch +came a peck of beak and a buffet of pinion in the face. Generally the +bird would, with sharp-clapping wings, dart its whole body, with the +swiftness of an arrow, against its singled mark, yet so as to glance +aloft the same instant, and descend skimming; much as the thin stone, +shot with horizontal cast of arm, having touched and torn the surface +of the lake, ascends to skim, touch, and tear again. So mingled the +feathered multitude in the grim game of war. It was a storm in which +the wind was birds, and the sea men. And ever as each bird arrived at +the rear of the enemy, it turned, ascended, and sped to the front to +charge again. + +The moment the battle began, the princess's pony took fright, and +turned and fled. But the maid wheeled her horse across the road and +stopped him; and they waited together the result of the battle. + +And as they waited, it seemed to the princess right strange that the +pigeons, every one as it came to the rear, and fetched a compass to +gather force for the reattack, should make the head of her attendant on +the red horse the goal around which it turned; so that about them was +an unintermittent flapping and flashing of wings, and a curving, +sweeping torrent of the side-poised wheeling bodies of birds. Strange +also it seemed that the maid should be constantly waving her arm toward +the battle. And the time of the motion of her arm so fitted with the +rushes of birds, that it looked as if the birds obeyed her gesture, and +she was casting living javelins by the thousand against the enemy. The +moment a pigeon had rounded her head, it went off straight as bolt from +bow, and with trebled velocity. + +But of these strange things, others besides the princess had taken +note. From a rising ground whence they watched the battle in growing +dismay, the leaders of the enemy saw the maid and her motions, and, +concluding her an enchantress, whose were the airy legions humiliating +them, set spurs to their horses, made a circuit, outflanked the king, +and came down upon her. But suddenly by her side stood a stalwart old +man in the garb of a miner, who, as the general rode at her, sword in +hand, heaved his swift mattock, and brought it down with such force on +the forehead of his charger, that he fell to the ground like a log. +His rider shot over his head and lay stunned. Had not the great red +horse reared and wheeled, he would have fallen beneath that of the +general. + +With lifted sabre, one of his attendant officers rode at the miner. But +a mass of pigeons darted in the faces of him and his horse, and the +next moment he lay beside his commander. + +The rest of them turned and fled, pursued by the birds. + +'Ah, friend Peter!' said the maid; 'thou hast come as I told thee! +Welcome and thanks!' + +By this time the battle was over. The rout was general. The enemy +stormed back upon their own camp, with the beasts roaring in the midst +of them, and the king and his army, now reinforced by one, pursuing. +But presently the king drew rein. + +'Call off your hounds, Curdie, and let the pigeons do the rest,' he +shouted, and turned to see what had become of the princess. + +In full panic fled the invaders, sweeping down their tents, stumbling +over their baggage, trampling on their dead and wounded, ceaselessly +pursued and buffeted by the white-winged army of heaven. Homeward they +rushed the road they had come, straight for the borders, many dropping +from pure fatigue, and lying where they fell. And still the pigeons +were in their necks as they ran. At length to the eyes of the king and +his army nothing was visible save a dust cloud below, and a bird cloud +above. Before night the bird cloud came back, flying high over +Gwyntystorm. Sinking swiftly, it disappeared among the ancient roofs +of the palace. + + + +CHAPTER 34 + +Judgement + +The king and his army returned, bringing with them one prisoner only, +the lord chancellor. Curdie had dragged him from under a fallen tent, +not by the hand of a man, but by the foot of a mule. + +When they entered the city, it was still as the grave. The citizens +had fled home. 'We must submit,' they cried, 'or the king and his +demons will destroy us.' The king rode through the streets in silence, +ill-pleased with his people. But he stopped his horse in the midst of +the market place, and called, in a voice loud and clear as the cry of a +silver trumpet, 'Go and find your own. Bury your dead, and bring home +your wounded.' Then he turned him gloomily to the palace. + +Just as they reached the gates, Peter, who, as they went, had been +telling his tale to Curdie, ended it with the words: + +'And so there I was, in the nick of time to save the two princesses!' + +'The two princesses, Father! The one on the great red horse was the +housemaid,' said Curdie, and ran to open the gates for the king. + +They found Derba returned before them, and already busy preparing them +food. The king put up his charger with his own hands, rubbed him down, +and fed him. + +When they had washed, and eaten and drunk, he called the colonel, and +told Curdie and the page to bring out the traitors and the beasts, and +attend him to the market place. + +By this time the people were crowding back into the city, bearing their +dead and wounded. And there was lamentation in Gwyntystorm, for no one +could comfort himself, and no one had any to comfort him. The nation +was victorious, but the people were conquered. + +The king stood in the centre of the market place, upon the steps of the +ancient cross. He had laid aside his helmet and put on his crown, but +he stood all armed beside, with his sword in his hand. He called the +people to him, and, for all the terror of the beasts, they dared not +disobey him. Those, even, who were carrying their wounded laid them +down, and drew near trembling. + +Then the king said to Curdie and the page: + +'Set the evil men before me.' + +He looked upon them for a moment in mingled anger and pity, then turned +to the people and said: + +'Behold your trust! Ye slaves, behold your leaders! I would have +freed you, but ye would not be free. Now shall ye be ruled with a rod +of iron, that ye may learn what freedom is, and love it and seek it. +These wretches I will send where they shall mislead you no longer.' + +He made a sign to Curdie, who immediately brought up the legserpent. +To the body of the animal they bound the lord chamberlain, speechless +with horror. The butler began to shriek and pray, but they bound him +on the back of Clubhead. One after another, upon the largest of the +creatures they bound the whole seven, each through the unveiling terror +looking the villain he was. Then said the king: + +'I thank you, my good beasts; and I hope to visit you ere long. Take +these evil men with you, and go to your place.' + +Like a whirlwind they were in the crowd, scattering it like dust. Like +hounds they rushed from the city, their burdens howling and raving. + +What became of them I have never heard. + +Then the king turned once more to the people and said, 'Go to your +houses'; nor vouchsafed them another word. They crept home like +chidden hounds. + +The king returned to the palace. He made the colonel a duke, and the +page a knight, and Peter he appointed general of all his mines. But to +Curdie he said: + +'You are my own boy, Curdie. My child cannot choose but love you, and +when you are grown up--if you both will--you shall marry each other, +and be king and queen when I am gone. Till then be the king's Curdie.' + +Irene held out her arms to Curdie. He raised her in his, and she +kissed him. + +'And my Curdie too!' she said. + +Thereafter the people called him Prince Conrad; but the king always +called him either just Curdie, or my miner boy. + +They sat down to supper, and Derba and the knight and the housemaid +waited, and Barbara sat at the king's left hand. The housemaid poured +out the wine; and as she poured for Curdie red wine that foamed in the +cup, as if glad to see the light whence it had been banished so long, +she looked him in the eyes. And Curdie started, and sprang from his +seat, and dropped on his knees, and burst into tears. And the maid +said with a smile, such as none but one could smile: + +'Did I not tell you, Curdie, that it might be you would not know me +when next you saw me?' + +Then she went from the room, and in a moment returned in royal purple, +with a crown of diamonds and rubies, from under which her hair went +flowing to the floor, all about her ruby-slippered feet. Her face was +radiant with joy, the joy overshadowed by a faint mist as of +unfulfilment. The king rose and kneeled on one knee before her. All +kneeled in like homage. Then the king would have yielded her his royal +chair. But she made them all sit down, and with her own hands placed +at the table seats for Derba and the page. Then in ruby crown and +royal purple she served them all. + + + +CHAPTER 35 + +The End + +The king sent Curdie out into his dominions to search for men and women +that had human hands. And many such he found, honest and true, and +brought them to his master. So a new and upright court was formed, and +strength returned to the nation. + +But the exchequer was almost empty, for the evil men had squandered +everything, and the king hated taxes unwillingly paid. Then came +Curdie and said to the king that the city stood upon gold. And the +king sent for men wise in the ways of the earth, and they built +smelting furnaces, and Peter brought miners, and they mined the gold, +and smelted it, and the king coined it into money, and therewith +established things well in the land. + +The same day on which he found his boy, Peter set out to go home. When +he told the good news to Joan, his wife, she rose from her chair and +said, 'Let us go.' And they left the cottage, and repaired to +Gwyntystorm. And on a mountain above the city they built themselves a +warm house for their old age, high in the clear air. + +As Peter mined one day, at the back of the king's wine Cellar, he broke +into a cavern crusted with gems, and much wealth flowed therefrom, and +the king used it wisely. + +Queen Irene--that was the right name of the old princess--was +thereafter seldom long absent from the palace. Once or twice when she +was missing, Barbara, who seemed to know of her sometimes when nobody +else had a notion whither she had gone, said she was with the dear old +Uglies in the wood. Curdie thought that perhaps her business might be +with others there as well. All the uppermost rooms in the palace were +left to her use, and when any one was in need of her help, up thither +he must go. But even when she was there, he did not always succeed in +finding her. She, however, always knew that such a one had been +looking for her. + +Curdie went to find her one day. As he ascended the last stair, to +meet him came the well-known scent of her roses; and when he opened the +door, lo! there was the same gorgeous room in which his touch had been +glorified by her fire! And there burned the fire--a huge heap of red +and white roses. Before the hearth stood the princess, an old +grey-haired woman, with Lina a little behind her, slowly wagging her +tail, and looking like a beast of prey that can hardly so long restrain +itself from springing as to be sure of its victim. The queen was +casting roses, more and more roses, upon the fire. At last she turned +and said, 'Now Lina!'--and Lina dashed burrowing into the fire. There +went up a black smoke and a dust, and Lina was never more seen in the +palace. + +Irene and Curdie were married. The old king died, and they were king +and queen. As long as they lived Gwyntystorm was a better city, and +good people grew in it. But they had no children, and when they died +the people chose a king. And the new king went mining and mining in +the rock under the city, and grew more and more eager after the gold, +and paid less and less heed to his people. Rapidly they sank toward +their old wickedness. But still the king went on mining, and coining +gold by the pailful, until the people were worse even than in the old +time. And so greedy was the king after gold, that when at last the ore +began to fail, he caused the miners to reduce the pillars which Peter +and they that followed him had left standing to bear the city. And +from the girth of an oak of a thousand years, they chipped them down to +that of a fir tree of fifty. + +One day at noon, when life was at its highest, the whole city fell with +a roaring crash. The cries of men and the shrieks of women went up +with its dust, and then there was a great silence. + +Where the mighty rock once towered, crowded with homes and crowned with +a palace, now rushes and raves a stone-obstructed rapid of the river. +All around spreads a wilderness of wild deer, and the very name of +Gwyntystorm had ceased from the lips of men. + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Princess and the Curdie, by George MacDonald + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRINCESS AND THE CURDIE *** + +***** This file should be named 709.txt or 709.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/7/0/709/ + +Produced by Jo Churcher. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +The Princess and Curdie + +by George MacDonald + + + + +CONTENTS + + +1 The Mountain +2 The White Pigeon +3 The Mistress of the Silver Moon +4 Curdie's Father and Mother +5 The Miners +6 The Emerald +7 What Is in a Name? +8 Curdie's Mission +9 Hands +10 The Heath +11 Lina +12 More Creatures +13 The Baker's Wife +14 The Dogs of Gwyntystorm +15 Derba and Barbara +16 The Mattock +17 The Wine Cellar +18 The King's Kitchen +19 The King's Chamber +20 Counterplotting +21 The Loaf +22 The Lord Chamberlain +23 Dr Kelman +24 The Prophecy +25 The Avengers +26 The Vengeance +27 More Vengeance +28 The Preacher +29 Barbara +30 Peter +31 The Sacrifice +32 The King's Army +33 The Battle +34 Judgement +35 The End + + + + +CHAPTER 1 +The Mountain + + +Curdie was the son of Peter the miner. He lived with his father +and mother in a cottage built on a mountain, and he worked with his +father inside the mountain. + +A mountain is a strange and awful thing. In old times, without +knowing so much of their strangeness and awfulness as we do, people +were yet more afraid of mountains. But then somehow they had not +come to see how beautiful they are as well as awful, and they hated +them - and what people hate they must fear. Now that we have +learned to look at them with admiration, perhaps we do not feel +quite awe enough of them. To me they are beautiful terrors. + +I will try to tell you what they are. They are portions of the +heart of the earth that have escaped from the dungeon down below, +and rushed up and out. For the heart of the earth is a great +wallowing mass, not of blood, as in the hearts of men and animals, +but of glowing hot, melted metals and stones. And as our hearts +keep us alive, so that great lump of heat keeps the earth alive: it +is a huge power of buried sunlight - that is what it is. + +Now think: out of that cauldron, where all the bubbles would be as +big as the Alps if it could get room for its boiling, certain +bubbles have bubbled out and escaped - up and away, and there they +stand in the cool, cold sky - mountains. Think of the change, and +you will no more wonder that there should be something awful about +the very look of a mountain: from the darkness - for where the +light has nothing to shine upon, much the same as darkness - from +the heat, from the endless tumult of boiling unrest - up, with a +sudden heavenward shoot, into the wind, and the cold, and the +starshine, and a cloak of snow that lies like ermine above the +blue-green mail of the glaciers; and the great sun, their +grandfather, up there in the sky; and their little old cold aunt, +the moon, that comes wandering about the house at night; and +everlasting stillness, except for the wind that turns the rocks and +caverns into a roaring organ for the young archangels that are +studying how to let out the pent-up praises of their hearts, and +the molten music of the streams, rushing ever from the bosoms of +the glaciers fresh born. + +Think, too, of the change in their own substance - no longer molten +and soft, heaving and glowing, but hard and shining and cold. +Think of the creatures scampering over and burrowing in it, and the +birds building their nests upon it, and the trees growing out of +its sides, like hair to clothe it, and the lovely grass in the +valleys, and the gracious flowers even at the very edge of its +armour of ice, like the rich embroidery of the garment below, and +the rivers galloping down the valleys in a tumult of white and +green! And along with all these, think of the terrible precipices +down which the traveller may fall and be lost, and the frightful +gulfs of blue air cracked in the glaciers, and the dark profound +lakes, covered like little arctic oceans with floating lumps of +ice. + +All this outside the mountain! But the inside, who shall tell what +lies there? Caverns of awfullest solitude, their walls miles +thick, sparkling with ores of gold or silver, copper or iron, tin +or mercury, studded perhaps with precious stones - perhaps a brook, +with eyeless fish in it, running, running ceaselessly, cold and +babbling, through banks crusted with carbuncles and golden topazes, +or over a gravel of which some of the stones arc rubies and +emeralds, perhaps diamonds and sapphires - who can tell? - and +whoever can't tell is free to think - all waiting to flash, waiting +for millions of ages - ever since the earth flew off from the sun, +a great blot of fire, and began to cool. + +Then there are caverns full of water, numbingly cold, fiercely hot +- hotter than any boiling water. From some of these the water +cannot get out, and from others it runs in channels as the blood in +the body: little veins bring it down from the ice above into the +great caverns of the mountain's heart, whence the arteries let it +out again, gushing in pipes and clefts and ducts of all shapes and +kinds, through and through its bulk, until it springs newborn to +the light, and rushes down the Mountainside in torrents, and down +the valleys in rivers - down, down, rejoicing, to the mighty lungs +of the world, that is the sea, where it is tossed in storms and +cyclones, heaved up in billows, twisted in waterspouts, dashed to +mist upon rocks, beaten by millions of tails, and breathed by +millions of gills, whence at last, melted into vapour by the sun, +it is lifted up pure into the air, and borne by the servant winds +back to the mountaintops and the snow, the solid ice, and the +molten stream. + +Well, when the heart of the earth has thus come rushing up among +her children, bringing with it gifts of all that she possesses, +then straightway into it rush her children to see what they can +find there. With pickaxe and spade and crowbar, with boring chisel +and blasting powder, they force their way back: is it to search for +what toys they may have left in their long-forgotten nurseries? +Hence the mountains that lift their heads into the clear air, and +are dotted over with the dwellings of men, are tunnelled and bored +in the darkness of their bosoms by the dwellers in the houses which +they hold up to the sun and air. + +Curdie and his father were of these: their business was to bring to +light hidden things; they sought silver in the rock and found it, +and carried it out. Of the many other precious things in their +mountain they knew little or nothing. Silver ore was what they +were sent to find, and in darkness and danger they found it. But +oh, how sweet was the air on the mountain face when they came out +at sunset to go home to wife and mother! They did breathe deep +then! + +The mines belonged to the king of the country, and the miners were +his servants, working under his overseers and officers. He was a +real king - that is, one who ruled for the good of his people and +not to please himself, and he wanted the silver not to buy rich +things for himself, but to help him to govern the country, and pay +the ones that defended it from certain troublesome neighbours, and +the judges whom he set to portion out righteousness among the +people, that so they might learn it themselves, and come to do +without judges at all. Nothing that could be got from the heart of +the earth could have been put to better purposes than the silver +the king's miners got for him. There were people in the country +who, when it came into their hands, degraded it by locking it up in +a chest, and then it grew diseased and was called mammon, and bred +all sorts of quarrels; but when first it left the king's hands it +never made any but friends, and the air of the world kept it clean. + +About a year before this story began, a series of very remarkable +events had just ended. I will narrate as much of them as will +serve to show the tops of the roots of my tree. + +Upon the mountain, on one of its many claws, stood a grand old +house, half farmhouse, half castle, belonging to the king; and +there his only child, the Princess Irene, had been brought up till +she was nearly nine years old, and would doubtless have continued +much longer, but for the strange events to which I have referred. + +At that time the hollow places of the mountain were inhabited by +creatures called goblins, who for various reasons and in various +ways made themselves troublesome to all, but to the little princess +dangerous. Mainly by the watchful devotion and energy of Curdie, +however, their designs had been utterly defeated, and made to +recoil upon themselves to their own destruction, so that now there +were very few of them left alive, and the miners did not believe +there was a single goblin remaining in the whole inside of the +mountain. + +The king had been so pleased with the boy - then approaching +thirteen years of age - that when he carried away his daughter he +asked him to accompany them; but he was still better pleased with +him when he found that he preferred staying with his father and +mother. He was a right good king and knew that the love of a boy +who would not leave his father and mother to be made a great man +was worth ten thousand offers to die for his sake, and would prove +so when the right time came. As for his father and mother, they +would have given him up without a grumble, for they were just as +good as the king, and he and they understood each other perfectly; +but in this matter, not seeing that he could do anything for the +king which one of his numerous attendants could not do as well, +Curdie felt that it was for him to decide. So the king took a kind +farewell of them all and rode away, with his daughter on his horse +before him. + +A gloom fell upon the mountain and the miners when she was gone, +and Curdie did not whistle for a whole week. As for his verses, +there was no occasion to make any now. He had made them only to +drive away the goblins, and they were all gone - a good riddance - +only the princess was gone too! He would rather have had things as +they were, except for the princess's sake. But whoever is diligent +will soon be cheerful, and though the miners missed the household +of the castle, they yet managed to get on without them. +Peter and his wife, however, were troubled with the fancy that they +had stood in the way of their boy's good fortune. it would have +been such a fine thing for him and them, too, they thought, if he +had ridden with the good king's train. How beautiful he looked, +they said, when he rode the king's own horse through the river that +the goblins had sent out of the hill! He might soon have been a +captain, they did believe! The good, kind people did not reflect +that the road to the next duty is the only straight one, or that, +for their fancied good, we should never wish our children or +friends to do what we would not do ourselves if we were in their +position. We must accept righteous sacrifices as well as make +them. + + +CHAPTER 2 +The White Pigeon + +When in the winter they had had their supper and sat about the +fire, or when in the summer they lay on the border of the +rock-margined stream that ran through their little meadow close by +the door of their cottage, issuing from the far-up whiteness often +folded in clouds, Curdie's mother would not seldom lead the +conversation to one peculiar personage said and believed to have +been much concerned in the late issue of events. + +That personage was the great-great-grandmother of the princess, of +whom the princess had often talked, but whom neither Curdie nor his +mother had ever seen. Curdie could indeed remember, although +already it looked more like a dream than he could account for if it +had really taken place, how the princess had once led him up many +stairs to what she called a beautiful room in the top of the tower, +where she went through all the - what should he call it? - the +behaviour of presenting him to her grandmother, talking now to her +and now to him, while all the time he saw nothing but a bare +garret, a heap of musty straw, a sunbeam, and a withered apple. +Lady, he would have declared before the king himself, young or old, +there was none, except the princess herself, who was certainly +vexed that he could not see what she at least believed she saw. + +As for his mother, she had once seen, long before Curdie was born, +a certain mysterious light of the same description as one Irene +spoke of, calling it her grandmother's moon; and Curdie himself had +seen this same light, shining from above the castle, just as the +king and princess were taking their leave. Since that time neither +had seen or heard anything that could be supposed connected with +her. Strangely enough, however, nobody had seen her go away. if +she was such an old lady, she could hardly be supposed to have set +out alone and on foot when all the house was asleep. Still, away +she must have gone, for, of course, if she was so powerful, she +would always be about the princess to take care of her. + +But as Curdie grew older, he doubted more and more whether Irene +had not been talking of some dream she had taken for reality: he +had heard it said that children could not always distinguish +betwixt dreams and actual events. At the same time there was his +mother's testimony: what was he to do with that? His mother, +through whom he had learned everything, could hardly be imagined by +her own dutiful son to have mistaken a dream for a fact of the +waking world. + +So he rather shrank from thinking about it, and the less he thought +about it, the less he was inclined to believe it when he did think +about it, and therefore, of course, the less inclined to talk about +it to his father and mother; for although his father was one of +those men who for one word they say think twenty thoughts, Curdie +was well assured that he would rather doubt his own eyes than his +wife's testimony. + +There were no others to whom he could have talked about it. The +miners were a mingled company - some good, some not so good, some +rather bad - none of them so bad or so good as they might have +been; Curdie liked most of them, and was a favourite with all; but +they knew very little about the upper world, and what might or +might not take place there. They knew silver from copper ore; they +understood the underground ways of things, and they could look very +wise with their lanterns in their hands searching after this or +that sign of ore, or for some mark to guide their way in the +hollows of the earth; but as to great-great-grandmothers, they +would have mocked Curdie all the rest of his life for the absurdity +of not being absolutely certain that the solemn belief of his +father and mother was nothing but ridiculous nonsense. Why, to +them the very word 'great-great-grandmother' would have been a +week's laughter! I am not sure that they were able quite to +believe there were such persons as great-great-grandmothers; they +had never seen one. They were not companions to give the best of +help toward progress, and as Curdie grew, he grew at this time +faster in body than in mind - with the usual consequence, that he +was getting rather stupid - one of the chief signs of which was +that he believed less and less in things he had never seen. At the +same time I do not think he was ever so stupid as to imagine that +this was a sign of superior faculty and strength of mind. Still, +he was becoming more and more a miner, and less and less a man of +the upper world where the wind blew. On his way to and from the +mine he took less and less notice of bees and butterflies, moths +and dragonflies, the flowers and the brooks and the clouds. He was +gradually changing into a commonplace man. + +There is this difference between the growth of some human beings +and that of others: in the one case it is a continuous dying, in +the other a continuous resurrection. One of the latter sort comes +at length to know at once whether a thing is true the moment it +comes before him; one of the former class grows more and more +afraid of being taken in, so afraid of it that he takes himself in +altogether, and comes at length to believe in nothing but his +dinner: to be sure of a thing with him is to have it between his +teeth. + +Curdie was not in a very good way, then, at that time. His father +and mother had, it is true, no fault to find with him and yet - and +yet - neither of them was ready to sing when the thought of him +came up. There must be something wrong when a mother catches +herself sighing over the time when her boy was in petticoats, or a +father looks sad when he thinks how he used to carry him on his +shoulder. The boy should enclose and keep, as his life, the old +child at the heart of him, and never let it go. He must still, to +be a right man, be his mother's darling, and more, his father's +pride, and more. The child is not meant to die, but to be forever +fresh born. + +Curdie had made himself a bow and some arrows, and was teaching +himself to shoot with them. One evening in the early summer, as he +was walking home from the mine with them in his hand, a light +flashed across his eyes. He looked, and there was a snow-white +pigeon settling on a rock in front of him, in the red light of the +level sun. There it fell at once to work with one of its wings, in +which a feather or two had got some sprays twisted, causing a +certain roughness unpleasant to the fastidious creature of the air. + +It was indeed a lovely being, and Curdie thought how happy it must +be flitting through the air with a flash - a live bolt of light. +For a moment he became so one with the bird that he seemed to feel +both its bill and its feathers, as the one adjusted the other to +fly again, and his heart swelled with the pleasure of its +involuntary sympathy. Another moment and it would have been aloft +in the waves of rosy light - it was just bending its little legs to +spring: that moment it fell on the path broken-winged and bleeding +from Curdie's cruel arrow. + +With a gush of pride at his skill, and pleasure at his success, he +ran to pick up his prey. I must say for him he picked it up gently +- perhaps it was the beginning of his repentance. But when he had +the white thing in his hands its whiteness stained with another red +than that of the sunset flood in which it had been revelling - ah +God! who knows the joy of a bird, the ecstasy of a creature that +has neither storehouse nor barn! - when he held it, I say, in his +victorious hands, the winged thing looked up in his face - and with +such eyes! - asking what was the matter, and where the red sun had +gone, and the clouds, and the wind of its flight. Then they +closed, but to open again presently, with the same questions in +them. + +And as they closed and opened, their look was fixed on his. It did +not once flutter or try to get away; it only throbbed and bled and +looked at him. Curdie's heart began to grow very large in his +bosom. What could it mean? It was nothing but a pigeon, and why +should he not kill a pigeon? But the fact was that not till this +very moment had he ever known what a pigeon was. A good many +discoveries of a similar kind have to be made by most of us. Once +more it opened its eyes - then closed them again, and its throbbing +ceased. Curdie gave a sob: its last look reminded him of the +princess - he did not know why. He remembered how hard he had +laboured to set her beyond danger, and yet what dangers she had had +to encounter for his sake: they had been saviours to each other - +and what had he done now? He had stopped saving, and had begun +killing! What had he been sent into the world for? Surely not to +be a death to its joy and loveliness. He had done the thing that +was contrary to gladness; he was a destroyer! He was not the +Curdie he had been meant to be! + +Then the underground waters gushed from the boy's heart. And with +the tears came the remembrance that a white pigeon, just before the +princess went away with her father, came from somewhere - yes, from +the grandmother's lamp, and flew round the king and Irene and +himself, and then flew away: this might be that very pigeon! +Horrible to think! And if it wasn't, yet it was a white pigeon, +the same as this. And if she kept a great Many pigeons - and white +ones, as Irene had told him, then whose pigeon could he have killed +but the grand old princess's? +Suddenly everything round about him seemed against him. The red +sunset stung him; the rocks frowned at him; the sweet wind that had +been laving his face as he walked up the hill dropped - as if he +wasn't fit to be kissed any more. Was the whole world going to +cast him out? Would he have to stand there forever, not knowing +what to do, with the dead pigeon in his hand? Things looked bad +indeed. Was the whole world going to make a work about a pigeon - +a white pigeon? The sun went down. Great clouds gathered over the +west, and shortened the twilight. The wind gave a howl, and then +lay down again. The clouds gathered thicker. Then came a +rumbling. He thought it was thunder. It was a rock that fell +inside the mountain. A goat ran past him down the hill, followed +by a dog sent to fetch him home. He thought they were goblin +creatures, and trembled. He used to despise them. And still he +held the dead pigeon tenderly in his hand. + +It grew darker and darker. An evil something began to move in his +heart. 'What a fool I am!' he said to himself. Then he grew +angry, and was just going to throw the bird from him and whistle, +when a brightness shone all round him. He lifted his eyes, and saw +a great globe of light - like silver at the hottest heat: he had +once seen silver run from the furnace. It shone from somewhere +above the roofs of the castle: it must be the great old princess's +moon! How could she be there? Of course she was not there! He +had asked the whole household, and nobody knew anything about her +or her globe either. it couldn't be! And yet what did that +signify, when there was the white globe shining, and here was the +dead white bird in his hand? That moment the pigeon gave a little +flutter. 'It's not dead!' cried Curdie, almost with a shriek. The +same instant he was running full speed toward the castle, never +letting his heels down, lest he should shake the poor, wounded +bird. + + + +CHAPTER 3 +The Mistress of the Silver Moon + + +When Curdie reached the castle, and ran into the little garden in +front of it, there stood the door wide open. This was as he had +hoped, for what could he have said if he had had to knock at it? +Those whose business it is to open doors, so often mistake and shut +them! But the woman now in charge often puzzled herself greatly to +account for the strange fact that however often she shut the door, +which, like the rest, she took a great deal of unnecessary trouble +to do, she was certain, the next time she went to it, to find it +open. I speak now of the great front door, of course: the back +door she as persistently kept wide: if people could only go in by +that, she said, she would then know what sort they were, and what +they wanted. But she would neither have known what sort Curdie +was, nor what he wanted, and would assuredly have denied him +admittance, for she knew nothing of who was in the tower. So the +front door was left open for him, and in he walked. +But where to go next he could not tell. It was not quite dark: a +dull, shineless twilight filled the place. All he knew was that he +must go up, and that proved enough for the present, for there he +saw the great staircase rising before him. When he reached the top +of it, he knew there must be more stairs yet, for he could not be +near the top of the tower. Indeed by the situation of the stairs, +he must be a good way from the tower itself. But those who work +well in the depths more easily understand the heights, for indeed +in their true nature they are one and the same; miners are in +mountains; and Curdie, from knowing the ways of the king's mines, +and being able to calculate his whereabouts in them, was now able +to find his way about the king's house. He knew its outside +perfectly, and now his business was to get his notion of the inside +right with the outside. + +So he shut his eyes and made a picture of the outside of it in his +mind. Then he came in at the door of the picture, and yet kept the +picture before him all the time - for you can do that kind of thing +in your mind - and took every turn of the stair over again, always +watching to remember, every time he turned his face, how the tower +lay, and then when he came to himself at the top where he stood, he +knew exactly where it was, and walked at once in the right +direction. + +On his way, however, he came to another stair, and up that he went, +of course, watching still at every turn how the tower must lie. At +the top of this stair was yet another - they were the stairs up +which the princess ran when first, without knowing it, she was on +her way to find her great-great-grandmother. At the top of the +second stair he could go no farther, and must therefore set out +again to find the tower, which, as it rose far above the rest of +the house, must have the last of its stairs inside itself. + +Having watched every turn to the very last, he still knew quite +well in what direction he must go to find it, so he left the stair +and went down a passage that led, if not exactly toward it, yet +nearer it. This passage was rather dark, for it was very long, +with only one window at the end, and although there were doors on +both sides of it, they were all shut. At the distant window +glimmered the chill east, with a few feeble stars in it, and its +like was dreary and old, growing brown, and looking as if it were +thinking about the day that was just gone. Presently he turned +into another passage, which also had a window at the end of it; and +in at that window shone all that was left of the sunset, just a few +ashes, with here and there a little touch of warmth: it was nearly +as sad as the east, only there was one difference - it was very +plainly thinking of tomorrow. + +But at present Curdie had nothing to do with today or tomorrow; his +business was with the bird, and the tower where dwelt the grand old +princess to whom it belonged. So he kept on his way, still +eastward, and came to yet another passage, which brought him to a +door. He was afraid to open it without first knocking. He +knocked, but heard no answer. He was answered nevertheless; for +the door gently opened, and there was a narrow stair - and so steep +that, big lad as he was, he, too, like the Princess Irene before +him, found his hands needful for the climbing. And it was a long +climb, but he reached the top at last - a little landing, with a +door in front and one on each side. Which should he knock at? + +As he hesitated, he heard the noise of a spinning wheel. He knew +it at once, because his mother's spinning wheel had been his +governess long ago, and still taught him things. It was the +spinning wheel that first taught him to make verses, and to sing, +and to think whether all was right inside him; or at least it had +helped him in all these things. Hence it was no wonder he should +know a spinning wheel when he heard it sing - even although as the +bird of paradise to other birds was the song of that wheel to the +song of his mother's. + +He stood listening, so entranced that he forgot to knock, and the +wheel went on and on, spinning in his brain songs and tales and +rhymes, till he was almost asleep as well as dreaming, for sleep +does not always come first. But suddenly came the thought of the +poor bird, which had been lying motionless in his hand all the +time, and that woke him up, and at once he knocked. + +'Come in, Curdie,' said a voice. + +Curdie shook. It was getting rather awful. The heart that had +never much heeded an army of goblins trembled at the soft word of +invitation. But then there was the red-spotted white thing in his +hand! He dared not hesitate, though. Gently he opened the door +through which the sound came, and what did he see? Nothing at +first - except indeed a great sloping shaft of moonlight that came +in at a high window, and rested on the floor. He stood and stared +at it, forgetting to shut the door. + +'Why don't you come in, Curdie?' said the voice. 'Did you never +see moonlight before?' + +'Never without a moon,' answered Curdie, in a trembling tone, but +gathering courage. + +'Certainly not,' returned the voice, which was thin and quavering: +'I never saw moonlight without a moon.' + +'But there's no moon outside,' said Curdie. + +'Ah! but you're inside now,' said the voice. + +The answer did not satisfy Curdie; but the voice went on. + +'There are more moons than you know of, Curdie. Where there is one +sun there are many moons - and of many sorts. Come in and look out +of my window, and you will soon satisfy yourself that there is a +moon looking in at it.' + +The gentleness of the voice made Curdie remember his manners. He +shut the door, and drew a step or two nearer to the moonlight. + +All the time the sound of the spinning had been going on and on, +and Curdie now caught sight of the wheel. Oh, it was such a thin, +delicate thing - reminding him of a spider's web in a hedge. It +stood in the middle of the moonlight, and it seemed as if the +moonlight had nearly melted it away. A step nearer, he saw, with +a start, two little hands at work with it. And then at last, in +the shadow on the other side of the moonlight which came like +silver between, he saw the form to which the hands belonged: a +small withered creature, so old that no age would have seemed too +great to write under her picture, seated on a stool beyond the +spinning wheel, which looked very large beside her, but, as I said, +very thin, like a long-legged spider holding up its own web, which +was the round wheel itself She sat crumpled together, a filmy thing +that it seemed a puff would blow away, more like the body of a fly +the big spider had sucked empty and left hanging in his web, than +anything else I can think of. + +When Curdie saw her, he stood still again, a good deal in wonder, +a very little in reverence, a little in doubt, and, I must add, a +little in amusement at the odd look of the old marvel. Her grey +hair mixed with the moonlight so that he could not tell where the +one began and the other ended. Her crooked back bent forward over +her chest, her shoulders nearly swallowed up her head between them, +and her two little hands were just like the grey claws of a hen, +scratching at the thread, which to Curdie was of course invisible +across the moonlight. Indeed Curdie laughed within himself, just +a little, at the sight; and when he thought of how the princess +used to talk about her huge, great, old grandmother, he laughed +more. But that moment the little lady leaned forward into the +moonlight, and Curdie caught a glimpse of her eyes, and all the +laugh went out of him. + +'What do you come here for, Curdie?' she said, as gently as before. + +Then Curdie remembered that he stood there as a culprit, and worst +of all, as one who had his confession yet to make. There was no +time to hesitate over it. + +'Oh, ma'am! See here,' he said, and advanced a step or two, +holding out the pigeon. + +'What have you got there?' she asked. + +Again Curdie advanced a few steps, and held out his hand with the +pigeon, that she might see what it was, into the moonlight. The +moment the rays fell upon it the pigeon gave a faint flutter. The +old lady put out her old hands and took it, and held it to her +bosom, and rocked it, murmuring over it as if it were a sick baby. + +When Curdie saw how distressed she was he grew sorrier still, and +said: +'I didn't mean to do any harm, ma'am. I didn't think of its being +yours.' + +'Ah, Curdie! If it weren't mine, what would become of it now?' she +returned. 'You say you didn't mean any harm: did you mean any +good, Curdie?' + +'No,' answered Curdie. + +'Remember, then, that whoever does not mean good is always in +danger of harm. But I try to give everybody fair play; and those +that are in the wrong are in far more need of it always than those +who are in the right: they can afford to do without it. Therefore +I say for you that when you shot that arrow you did not know what +a pigeon is. Now that you do know, you are sorry. It is very +dangerous to do things you don't know about.' + +'But, please, ma'am - I don't mean to be rude or to contradict +you,' said Curdie, 'but if a body was never to do anything but what +he knew to be good, he would have to live half his time doing +nothing.' + +'There you are much mistaken,' said the old quavering voice. 'How +little you must have thought! Why, you don't seem even to know the +good of the things you are constantly doing. Now don't mistake me. +I don't mean you are good for doing them. It is a good thing to +eat your breakfast, but you don't fancy it's very good of you to do +it. The thing is good, not you.' + +Curdie laughed. + +'There are a great many more good things than bad things to do. +Now tell me what bad thing you have done today besides this sore +hurt to my little white friend.' +While she talked Curdie had sunk into a sort of reverie, in which +he hardly knew whether it was the old lady or his own heart that +spoke. And when she asked him that question, he was at first much +inclined to consider himself a very good fellow on the whole. 'I +really don't think I did anything else that was very bad all day,' +he said to himself. But at the same time he could not honestly +feel that he was worth standing up for. All at once a light seemed +to break in upon his mind, and he woke up and there was the +withered little atomy of the old lady on the other side of the +moonlight, and there was the spinning wheel singing on and on in +the middle of it! + +'I know now, ma'am; I understand now,' he said. 'Thank you, ma'am, +for spinning it into me with your wheel. I see now that I have +been doing wrong the whole day, and such a many days besides! +Indeed, I don't know when I ever did right, and yet it seems as if +I had done right some time and had forgotten how. When I killed +your bird I did not know I was doing wrong, just because I was +always doing wrong, and the wrong had soaked all through me.' + +'What wrong were you doing all day, Curdie? It is better to come +to the point, you know,' said the old lady, and her voice was +gentler even than before. + +'I was doing the wrong of never wanting or trying to be better. +And now I see that I have been letting things go as they would for +a long time. Whatever came into my head I did, and whatever didn't +come into my head I didn't do. I never sent anything away, and +never looked out for anything to come. I haven't been attending to +my mother - or my father either. And now I think of it, I know I +have often seen them looking troubled, and I have never asked them +what was the matter. And now I see, too, that I did not ask +because I suspected it had something to do with me and my +behaviour, and didn't want to hear the truth. And I know I have +been grumbling at my work, and doing a hundred other things that +are wrong.' + +'You have got it, Curdie,' said the old lady, in a voice that +sounded almost as if she had been crying. 'When people don't care +to be better they must be doing everything wrong. I am so glad you +shot my bird!' + +'Ma'am!' exclaimed Curdie. 'How can you be?' + +'Because it has brought you to see what sort you were when you did +it, and what sort you will grow to be again, only worse, if you +don't mind. Now that you are sorry, my poor bird will be better. +Look up, my dovey.' + +The pigeon gave a flutter, and spread out one of its red-spotted +wings across the old woman's bosom. + +'I will mend the little angel,' she said, 'and in a week or two it +will be flying again. So you may ease your heart about the +pigeon.' + +'Oh, thank you! Thank you!' cried Curdie. 'I don't know how to +thank you.' + +'Then I will tell you. There is only one way I care for. Do +better, and grow better, and be better. And never kill anything +without a good reason for it.' + +'Ma'am, I will go and fetch my bow and arrows, and you shall burn +them yourself.' + +'I have no fire that would burn your bow and arrows, Curdie.' + +'Then I promise you to burn them all under my mother's porridge pot +tomorrow morning.' + +'No, no, Curdie. Keep them, and practice with them every day, and +grow a good shot. There are plenty of bad things that want +killing, and a day will come when they will prove useful. But I +must see first whether you will do as I tell you.' + +'That I will!' said Curdie. 'What is it, ma'am?' + +'Only something not to do,' answered the old lady; 'if you should +hear anyone speak about me, never to laugh or make fun of me.' + +'Oh, ma'am!' exclaimed Curdie, shocked that she should think such +a request needful. + +'Stop, stop,' she went on. 'People hereabout sometimes tell very +odd and in fact ridiculous stories of an old woman who watches what +is going on, and occasionally interferes. They mean me, though +what they say is often great nonsense. Now what I want of you is +not to laugh, or side with them in any way; because they will take +that to mean that you don't believe there is any such person a bit +more than they do. Now that would not be the case - would it, +Curdie?' + +'No, indeed, ma'am. I've seen you.' + +The old woman smiled very oddly. + +'Yes, you've seen me,' she said. 'But mind,' she continued, 'I +don't want you to say anything - only to hold your tongue, and not +seem to side with them.' + +'That will be easy,'said Curdie,'now that I've seen you with my +very own eyes, ma'am.' + +'Not so easy as you think, perhaps,' said the old lady, with +another curious smile. 'I want to be your friend,' she added after +a little pause, 'but I don't quite know yet whether you will let +me.' +'Indeed I will, ma'am,' said Curdie. + +'That is for me to find out,' she rejoined, with yet another +strange smile. 'in the meantime all I can say is, come to me again +when you find yourself in any trouble, and I will see what I can do +for you - only the canning depends on yourself. I am greatly +pleased with you for bringing me my pigeon, doing your best to set +right what you had set wrong.' + +As she spoke she held out her hand to him, and when he took it she +made use of his to help herself up from her stool, and - when or +how it came about, Curdie could not tell - the same instant she +stood before him a tall, strong woman - plainly very old, but as +grand as she was old, and only rather severe-looking. Every trace +of the decrepitude and witheredness she showed as she hovered like +a film about her wheel, had vanished. Her hair was very white, but +it hung about her head in great plenty, and shone like silver in +the moonlight. Straight as a pillar she stood before the +astonished boy, and the wounded bird had now spread out both its +wings across her bosom, like some great mystical ornament of +frosted silver. + +'Oh, now I can never forget you!' cried Curdie. 'I see now what +you really are!' + +'Did I not tell you the truth when I sat at my wheel?' said the old +lady. + +'Yes, ma'am,' answered Curdie. + +'I can do no more than tell you the truth now,' she rejoined. 'It +is a bad thing indeed to forget one who has told us the truth. Now +go.' + +Curdie obeyed, and took a few steps toward the door. 'Please, +ma'am - what am I to call you?' he was going to say; but when he +turned to speak, he saw nobody. Whether she was there or not he +could not tell, however, for the moonlight had vanished, and the +room was utterly dark. A great fear, such as he had never before +known, came upon him, and almost overwhelmed him. He groped his +way to the door, and crawled down the stair - in doubt and anxiety +as to how he should find his way out of the house in the dark. And +the stair seemed ever so much longer than when he came up. Nor was +that any wonder, for down and down he went, until at length his +foot struck a door, and when he rose and opened it, he found +himself under the starry, moonless sky at the foot of the tower. + +He soon discovered the way out of the garden, with which he had +some acquaintance already, and in a few minutes was climbing the +mountain with a solemn and cheerful heart. It was rather dark, but +he knew the way well. As he passed the rock from which the poor +pigeon fell wounded with his arrow, a great joy filled his heart at +the thought that he was delivered from the blood of the little +bird, and he ran the next hundred yards at full speed up the hill. +Some dark shadows passed him: he did not even care to think what +they were, but let them run. When he reached home, he found his +father and mother waiting supper for him. + + + +CHAPTER 4 +Curdie's Father and Mother + + +The eyes of the fathers and mothers are quick to read their +children's looks, and when Curdie entered the cottage, his parents +saw at once that something unusual had taken place. When he said +to his mother, 'I beg your pardon for being so late,' there was +something in the tone beyond the politeness that went to her heart, +for it seemed to come from the place where all lovely things were +born before they began to grow in this world. When he set his +father's chair to the table, an attention he had not shown him for +a long time, Peter thanked him with more gratitude than the boy had +ever yet felt in all his life. It was a small thing to do for the +man who had been serving him since ever he was born, but I suspect +there is nothing a man can be so grateful for as that to which he +has the most right. + +There was a change upon Curdie, and father and mother felt there +must be something to account for it, and therefore were pretty sure +he had something to tell them. For when a child's heart is all +right, it is not likely he will want to keep anything from his +parents. But the story of the evening was too solemn for Curdie to +come out with all at once. He must wait until they had had their +porridge, and the affairs of this world were over for the day. + +But when they were seated on the grassy bank of the brook that went +so sweetly blundering over the great stones of its rocky channel, +for the whole meadow lay on the top of a huge rock, then he felt +that the right hour had come for sharing with them the wonderful +things that had come to him. It was perhaps the loveliest of all +hours in the year. The summer was young and soft, and this was the +warmest evening they had yet had - dusky, dark even below, while +above, the stars were bright and large and sharp in the blackest +blue sky. The night came close around them, clasping them in one +universal arm of love, and although it neither spoke nor smiled, +seemed all eye and ear, seemed to see and hear and know everything +they said and did. It is a way the night has sometimes, and there +is a reason for it. The only sound was that of the brook, for +there was no wind, and no trees for it to make its music upon if +there had been, for the cottage was high up on the mountain, on a +great shoulder of stone where trees would not grow. + +There, to the accompaniment of the water, as it hurried down to the +valley and the sea, talking busily of a thousand true things which +it could not understand, Curdie told his tale, outside and in, to +his father and mother. What a world had slipped in between the +mouth of the mine and his mother's cottage! Neither of them said +a word until he had ended. + +'Now what am I to make of it, Mother? it's so strange!' he said, +and stopped. + +'It's easy enough to see what Curdie has got to make of it, isn't +it, Peter?' said the good woman, turning her face toward all she +could see of her husband's. + +'it seems so to me,' answered Peter, with a smile which only the +night saw, but his wife felt in the tone of his words. They were +the happiest couple in that country, because they always understood +each other, and that was because they always meant the same thing, +and that was because they always loved what was fair and true and +right better, not than anything else, but than everything else put +together. + +'Then will you tell Curdie?' said she. + +'You can talk best, Joan,' said he. 'You tell him, and I will +listen - and learn how to say what I think,' he added. + +'I,' said Curdie, 'don't know what to think.' + +'it does not matter so much,' said his mother. 'If only you know +what to make of a thing, you'll know soon enough what to think of +it. Now I needn't tell you, surely, Curdie, what you've got to do +with this?' + +'I suppose you mean, Mother,' answered Curdie, 'that I must do as +the old lady told me?' + +'That is what I mean: what else could it be? Am I not right, +Peter?' + +'Quite right, Joan,' answered Peter, 'so far as my judgement goes. +It is a very strange story, but you see the question is not about +believing it, for Curdie knows what came to him.' + +'And you remember, Curdie,' said his mother, 'that when the +princess took you up that tower once before, and there talked to +her great-great-grandmother, you came home quite angry with her, +and said there was nothing in the place but an old tub, a heap of +straw - oh, I remember your inventory quite well! - an old tub, a +heap of straw, a withered apple, and a sunbeam. According to your +eyes, that was all there was in the great, old, musty garret. But +now you have had a glimpse of the old princess herself!' + +'Yes, Mother, I did see her - or if I didn't -' said Curdie very +thoughtfully - then began again. 'The hardest thing to believe, +though I saw it with my own eyes, was when the thin, filmy creature +that seemed almost to float about in the moonlight like a bit of +the silver paper they put over pictures, or like a handkerchief +made of spider threads, took my hand, and rose up. She was taller +and stronger than you, Mother, ever so much! - at least, she looked +so.' + +'And most certainly was so, Curdie, if she looked so,' said Mrs +Peterson. + +'Well, I confess,' returned her son, 'that one thing, if there were +no other, would make me doubt whether I was not dreaming, after +all, wide awake though I fancied myself to be.' + +'Of course,' answered his mother, 'it is not for me to say whether +you were dreaming or not if you are doubtful of it yourself; but it +doesn't make me think I am dreaming when in the summer I hold in my +hand the bunch of sweet peas that make my heart glad with their +colour and scent, and remember the dry, withered-looking little +thing I dibbled into the hole in the same spot in the spring. I +only think how wonderful and lovely it all is. It seems just as +full of reason as it is of wonder. How it is done I can't tell, +only there it is! And there is this in it, too, Curdie - of which +you would not be so ready to think - that when you come home to +your father and mother, and they find you behaving more like a +dear, good son than you have behaved for a long time, they at least +are not likely to think you were only dreaming.' + +'Still,' said Curdie, looking a little ashamed, 'I might have +dreamed my duty.' + +'Then dream often, my son; for there must then be more truth in +your dreams than in your waking thoughts. But however any of these +things may be, this one point remains certain: there can be no harm +in doing as she told you. And, indeed, until you are sure there is +no such person, you are bound to do it, for you promised.' + +'it seems to me,' said his father, 'that if a lady comes to you in +a dream, Curdie, and tells you not to talk about her when you wake, +the least you can do is to hold your tongue.' + +'True, Father! Yes, Mother, I'll do it,' said Curdie. + +Then they went to bed, and sleep, which is the night of the soul, +next took them in its arms and made them well. + + + +CHAPTER 5 +The Miners + + +It much increased Curdie's feeling of the strangeness of the whole +affair, that, the next morning, when they were at work in the mine, +the party of which he and his father were two, just as if they had +known what had happened to him the night before, began talking +about all manner of wonderful tales that were abroad in the +country, chiefly, of course, those connected with the mines, and +the mountains in which they lay. Their wives and mothers and +grandmothers were their chief authorities. For when they sat by +their firesides they heard their wives telling their children the +selfsame tales, with little differences, and here and there one +they had not heard before, which they had heard their mothers and +grandmothers tell in one or other of the same cottages. + +At length they came to speak of a certain strange being they called +Old Mother Wotherwop. Some said their wives had seen her. It +appeared as they talked that not one had seen her more than once. +Some of their mothers and grandmothers, however, had seen her also, +and they all had told them tales about her when they were children. +They said she could take any shape she liked, but that in reality +she was a withered old woman, so old and so withered that she was +as thin as a sieve with a lamp behind it; that she was never seen +except at night, and when something terrible had taken place, or +was going to take place - such as the falling in of the roof of a +mine, or the breaking out of water in it. + +She had more than once been seen - it was always at night - beside +some well, sitting on the brink of it, and leaning over and +stirring it with her forefinger, which was six times as long as any +of the rest. And whoever for months after drank of that well was +sure to be ill. To this, one of them, however, added that he +remembered his mother saying that whoever in bad health drank of +the well was sure to get better. But the majority agreed that the +former was the right version of the story- for was she not a witch, +an old hating witch, whose delight was to do mischief? One said he +had heard that she took the shape of a young woman sometimes, as +beautiful as an angel, and then was most dangerous of all, for she +struck every man who looked upon her stone-blind. + +Peter ventured the question whether she might not as likely be an +angel that took the form of an old woman, as an old woman that took +the form of an angel. But nobody except Curdie, who was holding +his peace with all his might, saw any sense in the question. They +said an old woman might be very glad to make herself look like a +young one, but who ever heard of a young and beautiful one making +herself look old and ugly? + +Peter asked why they were so much more ready to believe the bad +that was said of her than the good. They answered, because she was +bad. He asked why they believed her to be bad, and they answered, +because she did bad things. When he asked how they knew that, they +said, because she was a bad creature. Even if they didn't know it, +they said, a woman like that was so much more likely to be bad than +good. Why did she go about at night? Why did she appear only now +and then, and on such occasions? One went on to tell how one night +when his grandfather had been having a jolly time of it with his +friends in the market town, she had served him so upon his way home +that the poor man never drank a drop of anything stronger than +water after it to the day of his death. She dragged him into a +bog, and tumbled him up and down in it till he was nearly dead. + +'I suppose that was her way of teaching him what a good thing water +was,' said Peter; but the man, who liked strong drink, did not see +the joke. + +'They do say,' said another, 'that she has lived in the old house +over there ever since the little princess left it. They say too +that the housekeeper knows all about it, and is hand and glove with +the old witch. I don't doubt they have many a nice airing together +on broomsticks. But I don't doubt either it's all nonsense, and +there's no such person at all.' + +'When our cow died,' said another, 'she was seen going round and +round the cowhouse the same night. To be sure she left a fine calf +behind her - I mean the cow did, not the witch. I wonder she +didn't kill that, too, for she'll be a far finer cow than ever her +mother was.' + +'My old woman came upon her one night, not long before the water +broke out in the mine, sitting on a stone on the hillside with a +whole congregation of cobs about her. When they saw my wife they +all scampered off as fast as they could run, and where the witch +was sitting there was nothing to be seen but a withered bracken +bush. I made no doubt myself she was putting them up to it.' + +And so they went on with one foolish tale after another, while +Peter put in a word now and then, and Curdie diligently held his +peace. But his silence at last drew attention upon it, and one of +them said: + +'Come, young Curdie, what are you thinking of?' + +'How do you know I'm thinking of anything?' asked Curdie. + +'Because you're not saying anything.' + +'Does it follow then that, as you are saying so much, you're not +thinking at all?' said Curdie. + +'I know what he's thinking,' said one who had not yet spoken; 'he's +thinking what a set of fools you are to talk such rubbish; as if +ever there was or could be such an old woman as you say! I'm sure +Curdie knows better than all that comes to.' + +'I think,' said Curdie, 'it would be better that he who says +anything about her should be quite sure it is true, lest she should +hear him, and not like to be slandered.' + +'But would she like it any better if it were true?' said the same +man. 'If she is What they say - I don't know - but I never knew a +man that wouldn't go in a rage to be called the very thing he was.' + +'if bad things were true of her, and I knew it,' said Curdie, 'I +would not hesitate to say them, for I will never give in to being +afraid of anything that's bad. I suspect that the things they +tell, however, if we knew all about them, would turn out to have +nothing but good in them; and I won't say a word more for fear I +should say something that mightn't be to her mind.' + +They all burst into a loud laugh. + +'Hear the parson!' they cried. 'He believes in the witch! Ha! +ha!' + +'He's afraid of her!' + +'And says all she does is good!' + +'He wants to make friends with her, that she may help him to find +the silver ore.' + +'Give me my own eyes and a good divining rod before all the witches +in the world! And so I'd advise you too, Master Curdie; that is, +when your eyes have grown to be worth anything, and you have +learned to cut the hazel fork.' +Thus they all mocked and jeered at him, but he did his best to keep +his temper and go quietly on with his work. He got as close to his +father as he could, however, for that helped him to bear it. As +soon as they were tired of laughing and mocking, Curdie was +friendly with them, and long before their midday meal all between +them was as it had been. + +But when the evening came, Peter and Curdie felt that they would +rather walk home together without other company, and therefore +lingered behind when the rest of the men left the mine. + + + +CHAPTER 6 +The Emerald + + +Father and son had seated themselves on a projecting piece of rock +at a corner where three galleries met - the one they had come along +from their work, one to the right leading out of the mountain, and +the other to the left leading far into a portion of it which had +been long disused. Since the inundation caused by the goblins, it +had indeed been rendered impassable by the settlement of a quantity +of the water, forming a small but very deep lake, in a part where +there was a considerable descent. + +They had just risen and were turning to the right, when a gleam +caught their eyes, and made them look along the whole gallery. Far +up they saw a pale green light, whence issuing they could not tell, +about halfway between floor and roof of the passage. They saw +nothing but the light, which was like a large star, with a point of +darker colour yet brighter radiance in the heart of it, whence the +rest of the light shot out in rays that faded toward the ends until +they vanished. It shed hardly any light around it, although in +itself it was so bright as to sting the eyes that beheld it. +Wonderful stories had from ages gone been current in the mines +about certain magic gems which gave out light of themselves, and +this light looked just like what might be supposed to shoot from +the heart of such a gem. + +They went up the old gallery to find out what it could be. To +their surprise they found, however, that, after going some +distance, they were no nearer to it, so far as they could judge, +than when they started. It did not seem to move, and yet they +moving did not approach it. Still they persevered, for it was far +too wonderful a thing to lose sight of, so long as they could keep +it. At length they drew near the hollow where the water lay, and +still were no nearer the light. Where they expected to be stopped +by the water, however, water was none: something had taken place in +some part of the mine that had drained it off, and the gallery lay +open as in former times. + +And now, to their surprise, the light, instead of being in front of +them, was shining at the same distance to the right, where they did +not know there was any passage at all. Then they discovered, by +the light of the lanterns they carried, that there the water had +broken through, and made an entrance to a part of the mountain of +which Peter knew nothing. But they were hardly well into it, still +following the light, before Curdie thought he recognized some of +the passages he had so often gone through when he was watching the +goblins. + +After they had advanced a long way, with many turnings, now to the +right, now to the left, all at once their eyes seemed to come +suddenly to themselves, and they became aware that the light which +they had taken to be a great way from them was in reality almost +within reach of their hands. + +The same instant it began to grow larger and thinner, the point of +light grew dim as it spread, the greenness melted away, and in a +moment or two, instead of the star, a dark, dark and yet luminous +face was looking at them with living eyes. And Curdie felt a great +awe swell up in his heart, for he thought he had seen those eyes +before. + +'I see you know me, Curdie,' said a voice. + +'if your eyes are you, ma'am, then I know you,' said Curdie. 'But +I never saw your face before.' + +'Yes, you have seen it, Curdie,' said the voice. And with that the +darkness of its complexion melted away, and down from the face +dawned out the form that belonged to it, until at last Curdie and +his father beheld a lady, beautiful exceedingly, dressed in +something pale green, like velvet, over which her hair fell in +cataracts of a rich golden colour. it looked as if it were pouring +down from her head, and, like the water of the Dustbrook, vanishing +in a golden vapour ere it reached the floor. It came flowing from +under the edge of a coronet of gold, set with alternated pearls and +emeralds. In front of the crown was a great emerald, which looked +somehow as if out of it had come the light they had followed. +There was no ornament else about her, except on her slippers, which +were one mass of gleaming emeralds, of various shades of green, all +mingling lovelily like the waving of grass in the wind and sun. +She looked about five-and-twenty years old. And for all the +difference, Curdie knew somehow or other, he could not have told +how, that the face before him was that of the old princess, Irene's +great-great-grandmother. + +By this time all around them had grown light, and now first they +could see where they were. They stood in a great splendid cavern, +which Curdie recognized as that in which the goblins held their +state assemblies. But, strange to tell, the light by which they +saw came streaming, sparkling, and shooting from stones of many +colours in the sides and roof and floor of the cavern - stones of +all the colours of the rainbow, and many more. It was a glorious +sight - the whole rugged place flashing with colours - in one spot +a great light of deep carbuncular red, in another of sapphirine +blue, in another of topaz yellow; while here and there were groups +of stones of all hues and sizes, and again nebulous spaces of +thousands of tiniest spots of brilliancy of every conceivable +shade. Sometimes the colours ran together, and made a little river +or lake of lambent, interfusing, and changing tints, which, by +their variegation, seemed to imitate the flowing of water, or waves +made by the wind. + +Curdie would have gazed entranced, but that all the beauty of the +cavern, yes, of all he knew of the whole creation, seemed gathered +in one centre of harmony and loveliness in the person of the +ancient lady who stood before him in the very summer of beauty and +strength. Turning from the first glance at the circuadjacent +splendour, it dwindled into nothing as he looked again at the lady. +Nothing flashed or glowed or shone about her, and yet it was with +a prevision of the truth that he said, + +'I was here once before, ma'am.' + +'I know that, Curdie,' she replied. + +'The place was full of torches, and the walls gleamed, but nothing +as they do now, and there is no light in the place.' + +'You want to know where the light comes from?' she said, smiling. + +'Yes, ma'am.' + +'Then see: I will go out of the cavern. Do not be afraid, but +watch.' + +She went slowly out. The moment she turned her back to go, the +light began to pale and fade; the moment she was out of their sight +the place was black as night, save that now the smoky yellow-red of +their lamps, which they thought had gone out long ago, cast a dusky +glimmer around them. + + + +CHAPTER 7 +What Is in a Name? + + +For a time that seemed to them long, the two men stood waiting, +while still the Mother of Light did not return. So long was she +absent that they began to grow anxious: how were they to find their +way from the natural hollows of the mountain crossed by goblin +paths, if their lamps should go out? To spend the night there +would mean to sit and wait until an earthquake rent the mountain, +or the earth herself fell back into the smelting furnace of the sun +whence she had issued - for it was all night and no faintest dawn +in the bosom of the world. + +So long did they wait unrevisited, that, had there not been two of +them, either would at length have concluded the vision a home-born +product of his own seething brain. And their lamps were going out, +for they grew redder and smokier! But they did not lose courage, +for there is a kind of capillary attraction in the facing of two +souls, that lifts faith quite beyond the level to which either +could raise it alone: they knew that they had seen the lady of +emeralds, and it was to give them their own desire that she had +gone from them, and neither would yield for a moment to the half +doubts and half dreads that awoke in his heart. + +And still she who with her absence darkened their air did not +return. They grew weary, and sat down on the rocky floor, for wait +they would - indeed, wait they must. Each set his lamp by his +knee, and watched it die. Slowly it sank, dulled, looked lazy and +stupid. But ever as it sank and dulled, the image in his mind of +the Lady of Light grew stronger and clearer. Together the two +lamps panted and shuddered. First one, then the other went out, +leaving for a moment a great, red, evil-smelling snuff. Then all +was the blackness of darkness up to their very hearts and +everywhere around them. Was it? No. Far away - it looked miles +away - shone one minute faint point of green light - where, who +could tell? They only knew that it shone. it grew larger, and +seemed to draw nearer, until at last, as they watched with +speechless delight and expectation, it seemed once more within +reach of an outstretched hand. Then it spread and melted away as +before, and there were eyes - and a face - and a lovely form - and +lo! the whole cavern blazing with lights innumerable, and gorgeous, +yet soft and interfused - so blended, indeed, that the eye had to +search and see in order to separate distinct spots of special +colour. + +The moment they saw the speck in the vast distance they had risen +and stood on their feet. When it came nearer they bowed their +heads. Yet now they looked with fearless eyes, for the woman that +was old yet young was a joy to see, and filled their hearts with +reverent delight. She turned first to Peter. + +'I have known you long,' she said. 'I have met you going to and +from the mine, and seen you working in it for the last forty +years.' + +'How should it be, madam, that a grand lady like you should take +notice of a poor man like me?' said Peter, humbly, + +but more foolishly than he could then have understood. + +'I am poor as well as rich,' said she. 'I, too, work for my bread, +and I show myself no favour when I pay myself my own wages. Last +night when you sat by the brook, and Curdie told you about my +pigeon, and my spinning, and wondered whether he could believe that +he had actually seen me, I heard what you said to each other. I am +always about, as the miners said the other night when they talked +of me as Old Mother Wotherwop.' + +The lovely lady laughed, and her laugh was a lightning of delight +in their souls. + +'Yes,' she went on, 'you have got to thank me that you are so poor, +Peter. I have seen to that, and it has done well for both you and +me, my friend. Things come to the poor that can't get in at the +door of the rich. Their money somehow blocks it up. It is a great +privilege to be poor, Peter - one that no man ever coveted, and but +a very few have sought to retain, but one that yet many have +learned to prize. You must not mistake, however, and imagine it a +virtue; it is but a privilege, and one also that, like other +privileges, may be terribly misused. Had you been rich, my Peter, +you would not have been so good as some rich men I know. And now +I am going to tell you what no one knows but myself: you, Peter, +and your wife both have the blood of the royal family in your +veins. I have been trying to cultivate your family tree, every +branch of which is known to me, and I expect Curdie to turn out a +blossom on it. Therefore I have been training him for a work that +must soon be done. I was near losing him, and had to send my +pigeon. Had he not shot it, that would have been better; but he +repented, and that shall be as good in the end.' + +She turned to Curdie and smiled. + +'Ma'am,' said Curdie, 'may I ask questions?' + +'Why not, Curdie?' + +'Because I have been told, ma'am, that nobody must ask the king +questions.' + +'The king never made that law,' she answered, with some +displeasure. 'You may ask me as many as you please - that is, so +long as they are sensible. Only I may take a few thousand years to +answer some of them. But that's nothing. Of all things time is +the cheapest.' + +'Then would you mind telling me now, ma'am, for I feel very +confused about it - are you the Lady of the Silver Moon?' + +'Yes, Curdie; you may call me that if you like. What it means is +true.' + +'And now I see you dark, and clothed in green, and the mother of +all the light that dwells in the stones of the earth! And up there +they call you Old Mother Wotherwop! And the Princess Irene told me +you were her great-great-grandmother! And you spin the spider +threads, and take care of a whole people of pigeons; and you are +worn to a pale shadow with old age; and are as young as anybody can +be, not to be too young; and as strong, I do believe, as I am.' + +The lady stooped toward a large green stone bedded in the rock of +the floor, and looking like a well of grassy light in it. She laid +hold of it with her fingers, broke it out, and gave it to Peter. +'There!' cried Curdie. 'I told you so. Twenty men could not have +done that. And your fingers are white and smooth as any lady's in +the land. I don't know what to make of it.' + +'I could give you twenty names more to call me, Curdie, and not one +of them would be a false one. What does it matter how many names +if the person is one?' + +'Ah! But it is not names only, ma'am. Look at what you were like +last night, and what I see you now!' + +'Shapes are only dresses, Curdie, and dresses are only names. That +which is inside is the same all the time.' + +'But then how can all the shapes speak the truth?' + +'it would want thousands more to speak the truth, Curdie; and then +they could not. But there is a point I must not let you mistake +about. It is one thing the shape I choose to put on, and quite +another the shape that foolish talk and nursery tale may please to +put upon me. Also, it is one thing what you or your father may +think about me, and quite another what a foolish or bad man may see +in me. For instance, if a thief were to come in here just now, he +would think he saw the demon of the mine, all in green flames, come +to protect her treasure, and would run like a hunted wild goat. I +should be all the same, but his evil eyes would see me as I was +not.' + +'I think I understand,' said Curdie. + +'Peter,' said the lady, turning then to him, 'you will have to give +up Curdie for a little while.' +'So long as he loves us, ma'am, that will not matter - much.' + +'Ah! you are right there, my friend,' said the beautiful princess. +And as she said it she put out her hand, and took the hard, horny +hand of the miner in it, and held it for a moment lovingly. + +'I need say no more,' she added, 'for we understand each other - +you and I, Peter.' + +The tears came into Peter's eyes. He bowed his head in +thankfulness, and his heart was much too full to speak. + +Then the great old, young, beautiful princess turned to Curdie. + +'Now, Curdie, are you ready?' she said. + +'Yes, ma'am,' answered Curdie. + +'You do not know what for.' + +'You do, ma'am. That is enough.' + +'You could not have given me a better answer, or done more to +prepare yourself, Curdie,' she returned, with one of her radiant +smiles. 'Do you think you will know me again?' + +'I think so. But how can I tell what you may look like next?' + +'Ah, that indeed! How can you tell? Or how could I expect you +should? But those who know me well, know me whatever new dress or +shape or name I may be in; and by and by you will have learned to +do so too.' + +'But if you want me to know you again, ma'am, for certain sure,' +said Curdie, 'could you not give me some sign, or tell me something +about you that never changes - or some other way to know you, or +thing to know you by?' + +'No, Curdie; that would be to keep you from knowing me. You must +know me in quite another way from that. It would not be the least +use to you or me either if I were to make you know me in that way. +It would be but to know the sign of Me - not to know me myself. it +would be no better than if I were to take this emerald out of my +crown and give it to you to take home with you, and you were to +call it me, and talk to it as if it heard and saw and loved you. +Much good that would do you, Curdie! No; you must do what you can +to know me, and if you do, you will. You shall see me again in +very different circumstances from these, and, I will tell you so +much, it may be in a very different shape. But come now, I will +lead you out of this cavern; my good Joan will be getting too +anxious about you. One word more: you will allow that the men knew +little what they were talking about this morning, when they told +all those tales of Old Mother Wotherwop; but did it occur to you to +think how it was they fell to talking about me at all? It was +because I came to them; I was beside them all the time they were +talking about me, though they were far enough from knowing it, and +had very little besides foolishness to say.' + +As she spoke she turned and led the way from the cavern, which, as +if a door had been closed, sank into absolute blackness behind +them. And now they saw nothing more of the lady except the green +star, which again seemed a good distance in front of them, and to +which they came no nearer, although following it at a quick pace +through the mountain. Such was their confidence in her guidance, +however, and so fearless were they in consequence, that they felt +their way neither with hand nor foot, but walked straight on +through the pitch-dark galleries. When at length the night of the +upper world looked in at the mouth of the mine, the green light +seemed to lose its way among the stars, and they saw it no more. + +Out they came into the cool, blessed night. It was very late, and +only starlight. To their surprise, three paces away they saw, +seated upon a stone, an old country-woman, in a cloak which they +took for black. When they came close up to it, they saw it was +red. + +'Good evening!' said Peter. + +'Good evening!' returned the old woman, in a voice as old as +herself. + +But Curdie took off his cap and said: + +'I am your servant, Princess.' + +The old woman replied: + +'Come to me in the dove tower tomorrow night, Curdie - alone.' + +'I will, ma'am,' said Curdie. + +So they parted, and father and son went home to wife and mother - +two persons in one rich, happy woman. + + + +CHAPTER 8 +Curdie's Mission + + +The next night Curdie went home from the mine a little earlier than +usual, to make himself tidy before going to the dove tower. The +princess had not appointed an exact time for him to be there; he +would go as near the time he had gone first as he could. On his +way to the bottom of the hill, he met his father coming up. The +sun was then down, and the warm first of the twilight filled the +evening. He came rather wearily up the hill: the road, he thought, +must have grown steeper in parts since he was Curdie's age. His +back was to the light of the sunset, which closed him all round in +a beautiful setting, and Curdie thought what a grand-looking man +his father was, even when he was tired. It is greed and laziness +and selfishness, not hunger or weariness or cold, that take the +dignity out of a man, and make him look mean. + +'Ah, Curdie! There you are!' he said, seeing his son come bounding +along as if it were morning with him and not evening. + +'You look tired, Father,' said Curdie. + +'Yes, my boy. I'm not so young as you.' + +'Nor so old as the princess,' said Curdie. + +'Tell me this,' said Peter, 'why do people talk about going +downhill when they begin to get old? It seems to me that then +first they begin to go uphill.' + +'You looked to me, Father, when I caught sight of you, as if you +had been climbing the hill all your life, and were soon to get to +the top.' +'Nobody can tell when that will be,' returned Peter. 'We're so +ready to think we're just at the top when it lies miles away. But +I must not keep you, my boy, for you are wanted; and we shall be +anxious to know what the princess says to you- that is, if she will +allow you to tell us.' + +'I think she will, for she knows there is nobody more to be trusted +than my father and mother,' said Curdie, with + +pride. + +And away he shot, and ran, and jumped, and seemed almost to fly +down the long, winding, steep path, until he came to the gate of +the king's house. + +There he met an unexpected obstruction: in the open door stood the +housekeeper, and she seemed to broaden herself out until she almost +filled the doorway. + +'So!' she said, 'it's you, is it, young man? You are the person +that comes in and goes out when he pleases, and keeps running up +and down my stairs without ever saying by your leave, or even +wiping his shoes, and always leaves the door open! Don't you know +this is my house?' + +'No, I do not,' returned Curdie respectfully. 'You forget, ma'am, +that it is the king's house.' + +'That is all the same. The king left it to me to take care of - +and that you shall know!' + +'Is the king dead, ma'am, that he has left it to you?' asked +Curdie, half in doubt from the self-assertion of the woman. + +'Insolent fellow!' exclaimed the housekeeper. 'Don't you see by my +dress that I am in the king's service?' + +'And am I not one of his miners?' + +'Ah! that goes for nothing. I am one of his household. You are an +out-of-doors labourer. You are a nobody. You carry a pickaxe. I +carry the keys at my girdle. See!' + +'But you must not call one a nobody to whom the king has spoken,' +said Curdie. + +'Go along with you!' cried the housekeeper, and would have shut the +door in his face, had she not been afraid that when she stepped +back he would step in ere she could get it in motion, for it was +very heavy and always seemed unwilling to shut. Curdie came a pace +nearer. She lifted the great house key from her side, and +threatened to strike him down with it, calling aloud on Mar and +Whelk and Plout, the menservants under her, to come and help her. +Ere one of them could answer, however, she gave a great shriek and +turned and fled, leaving the door wide open. + +Curdie looked behind him, and saw an animal whose gruesome oddity +even he, who knew so many of the strange creatures, two of which +were never the same, that used to live inside the mountain with +their masters the goblins, had never seen equalled. Its eyes were +flaming with anger, but it seemed to be at the housekeeper, for it +came cowering and creeping up and laid its head on the ground at +Curdie's feet. Curdie hardly waited to look at it, however, but +ran into the house, eager to get up the stairs before any of the +men should come to annoy - he had no fear of their preventing him. +Without halt or hindrance, though the passages were nearly dark, he +reached the door of the princess's workroom, and knocked. + +'Come in,' said the voice of the princess. + +Curdie opened the door - but, to his astonishment, saw no room +there. Could he have opened a wrong door? There was the great +sky, and the stars, and beneath he could see nothing only darkness! +But what was that in the sky, straight in front of him? A great +wheel of fire, turning and turning, and flashing out blue lights! + +'Come in, Curdie,' said the voice again. + +'I would at once, ma'am,' said Curdie, 'if I were sure I was +standing at your door.' + +'Why should you doubt it, Curdie?' + +'Because I see neither walls nor floor, only darkness and the great +sky.' +'That is all right, Curdie. Come in.' + +Curdie stepped forward at once. He was indeed, for the very crumb +of a moment, tempted to feel before him with his foot; but he saw +that would be to distrust the princess, and a greater rudeness he +could not offer her. So he stepped straight in - I will not say +without a little tremble at the thought of finding no floor beneath +his foot. But that which had need of the floor found it, and his +foot was satisfied. + +No sooner was he in than he saw that the great revolving wheel in +the sky was the princess's spinning wheel, near the other end of +the room, turning very fast. He could see no sky or stars any +more, but the wheel was flashing out blue - oh, such lovely +sky-blue light! - and behind it of course sat the princess, but +whether an old woman as thin as a skeleton leaf, or a glorious lady +as young as perfection, he could not tell for the turning and +flashing of the wheel. + +'Listen to the wheel,' said the voice which had already grown dear +to Curdie: its very tone was precious like a jewel, not as a jewel, +for no jewel could compare with it in preciousness. + +And Curdie listened and listened. + +'What is it saying?' asked the voice. + +'It is singing,' answered Curdie. + +'What is it singing?' + +Curdie tried to make out, but thought he could not; for no sooner +had he got hold of something than it vanished again. + +Yet he listened, and listened, entranced with delight. + +'Thank you, Curdie, said the voice. + +'Ma'am,' said Curdie, 'I did try hard for a while, but I could not +make anything of it.' + +'Oh yes, you did, and you have been telling it to me! Shall I tell +you again what I told my wheel, and my wheel told you, and you have +just told me without knowing it?' + +'Please, ma'am.' + +Then the lady began to sing, and her wheel spun an accompaniment to +her song, and the music of the wheel was like the music of an +Aeolian harp blown upon by the wind that bloweth where it listeth. +Oh, the sweet sounds of that spinning wheel! Now they were gold, +now silver, now grass, now palm trees, now ancient cities, now +rubies, now mountain brooks, now peacock's feathers, now clouds, +now snowdrops, and now mid-sea islands. But for the voice that +sang through it all, about that I have no words to tell. It would +make you weep if I were able to tell you what that was like, it was +so beautiful and true and lovely. But this is something like the +words of its song: + + +The stars are spinning their threads, And the clouds are the dust +that flies, And the suns are weaving them up For the time when the +sleepers shall rise. + +The ocean in music rolls, And gems are turning to eyes, And the +trees are gathering souls For the day when the sleepers shall rise. + +The weepers are learning to smile, And laughter to glean the sighs; +Burn and bury the care and guile, For the day when the sleepers +shall rise. + +oh, the dews and the moths and the daisy red, The larks and the +glimmers and flows! The lilies and sparrows and daily bread, And +the something that nobody knows! + + +The princess stopped, her wheel stopped, and she laughed. And her +laugh was sweeter than song and wheel; sweeter than running brook +and silver bell; sweeter than joy itself, for the heart of the +laugh was love. + +'Come now, Curdie, to this side of my wheel, and you will find me,' +she said; and her laugh seemed sounding on still in the words, as +if they were made of breath that had laughed. + +Curdie obeyed, and passed the wheel, and there she stood to receive +him! - fairer than when he saw her last, a little younger still, +and dressed not in green and emeralds, but in pale blue, with a +coronet of silver set with pearls, and slippers covered with opals +that gleamed every colour of the rainbow. It was some time before +Curdie could take his eyes from the marvel of her loveliness. +Fearing at last that he was rude, he turned them away; and, behold, +he was in a room that was for beauty marvellous! The lofty ceiling +was all a golden vine, Whose great clusters of carbuncles, rubies, +and chrysoberyls hung down like the bosses of groined arches, and +in its centre hung the most glorious lamp that human eyes ever saw +- the Silver Moon itself, a globe of silver, as it seemed, with a +heart of light so wondrous potent that it rendered the mass +translucent, and altogether radiant. + +The room was so large that, looking back, he could scarcely see the +end at which he entered; but the other was only a few yards from +him - and there he saw another wonder: on a huge hearth a great +fire was burning, and the fire was a huge heap of roses, and yet it +was fire. The smell of the roses filled the air, and the heat of +the flames of them glowed upon his face. He turned an inquiring +look upon the lady, and saw that she was now seated in an ancient +chair, the legs of which were crusted with gems, but the upper part +like a nest of daisies and moss and green grass. + +'Curdie,' she said in answer to his eyes, 'you have stood more than +one trial already, and have stood them well: now I am going to put +you to a harder. Do you think you are prepared for it?' + +'How can I tell, ma'am,' he returned, 'seeing I do not know what it +is, or what preparation it needs? Judge me yourself, ma'am.' + +'It needs only trust and obedience,' answered the lady. + +'I dare not say anything, ma'am. If you think me fit, command me.' + +'it will hurt you terribly, Curdie, but that will be all; no real +hurt but much good will come to you from it.' + +Curdie made no answer but stood gazing with parted lips in the +lady's face. + +'Go and thrust both your hands into that fire,' she said quickly, +almost hurriedly. + +Curdie dared not stop to think. It was much too terrible to think +about. He rushed to the fire, and thrust both of his hands right +into the middle of the heap of flaming roses, and his arms halfway +up to the elbows. And it did hurt! But he did not draw them back. +He held the pain as if it were a thing that would kill him if he +let it go - as indeed it would have done. He was in terrible fear +lest it should conquer him. + +But when it had risen to the pitch that he thought he could bear it +no longer, it began to fall again, and went on growing less and +less until by contrast with its former severity it had become +rather pleasant. At last it ceased altogether, and Curdie thought +his hands must be burned to cinders if not ashes, for he did not +feel them at all. The princess told him to take them out and look +at them. He did so, and found that all that was gone of them was +the rough, hard skin; they were white and smooth like the +princess's. + +'Come to me,' she said. + +He obeyed and saw, to his surprise, that her face looked as if she +had been weeping. + +'Oh, Princess! What is the matter?' he cried. 'Did I make a noise +and vex you?' + +'No, Curdie, she answered; 'but it was very bad.' + +'Did you feel it too then?' + +'Of course I did. But now it is over, and all is well. Would you +like to know why I made You put your hands in the fire?' +Curdie looked at them again - then said: + +'To take the marks of the work off them and make them fit for the +king's court, I suppose.' + +'No, Curdie,' answered the princess, shaking her head, for she was +not pleased with the answer. 'It would be a poor way of making +your hands fit for the king's court to take off them signs of his +service. There is a far greater difference on them than that. Do +you feel none?' + +'No, ma'am.' + +'You will, though, by and by, when the time comes. But perhaps +even then you might not know what had been given you, therefore I +will tell you. Have you ever heard what some philosophers say - +that men were all animals once?' + +'No, ma'am.' + +'it is of no consequence. But there is another thing that is of +the greatest consequence - this: that all men, if they do not take +care, go down the hill to the animals' country; that many men are +actually, all their lives, going to be beasts. People knew it +once, but it is long since they forgot it.' + +'I am not surprised to hear it, ma'am, when I think of some of our +miners.' + +'Ah! But you must beware, Curdie, how you say of this man or that +man that he is travelling beastward. There are not nearly so many +going that way as at first sight you might think. When you met +your father on the hill tonight, you stood and spoke together on +the same spot; and although one of you was going up and the other +coming down, at a little distance no one could have told which was +bound in the one direction and which in the other. just so two +people may be at the same spot in manners and behaviour, and yet +one may be getting better and the other worse, which is just the +greatest of all differences that could possibly exist between +them.' + +'But ma'am,' said Curdie, 'where is the good of knowing that there +is such a difference, if you can never know where it is?' + +'Now, Curdie, you must mind exactly what words I use, because +although the right words cannot do exactly what I want them to do, +the wrong words will certainly do what I do not want them to do. +I did not say you can never know. When there is a necessity for +your knowing, when you have to do important business with this or +that man, there is always a way of knowing enough to keep you from +any great blunder. And as you will have important business to do +by and by, and that with people of whom you yet know nothing, it +will be necessary that you should have some better means than usual +of learning the nature of them. +'Now listen. Since it is always what they do, whether in their +minds or their bodies, that makes men go down to be less than men, +that is, beasts, the change always comes first in their hands - and +first of all in the inside hands, to which the outside ones are but +as the gloves. They do not know it of course; for a beast does not +know that he is a beast, and the nearer a man gets to being a beast +the less he knows it. Neither can their best friends, or their +worst enemies indeed, see any difference in their hands, for they +see only the living gloves of them. But there are not a few who +feel a vague something repulsive in the hand of a man who is +growing a beast. + +'Now here is what the rose-fire has done for you: it has made your +hands so knowing and wise, it has brought your real hands so near +the outside of your flesh gloves, that you will henceforth be able +to know at once the hand of a man who is growing into a beast; nay, +more - you will at once feel the foot of the beast he is growing, +just as if there were no glove made like a man's hand between you +and it. + +'Hence of course it follows that you will be able often, and with +further education in zoology, will be able always to tell, not only +when a man is growing a beast, but what beast he is growing to, for +you will know the foot - what it is and what beast's it is. +According, then, to your knowledge of that beast will be your +knowledge of the man you have to do with. Only there is one +beautiful and awful thing about it, that if any one gifted with +this perception once uses it for his own ends, it is taken from +him, and then, not knowing that it is gone, he is in a far worse +condition than before, for he trusts to what he has not got.' + +'How dreadful!' Said Curdie. 'I must mind what I am about.' + +'Yes, indeed, Curdie.' + +'But may not one sometimes make a mistake without being able to +help it?' + +'Yes. But so long as he is not after his own ends, he will never +make a serious mistake.' + +'I suppose you want me, ma'am, to warn every one whose hand tells +me that he is growing a beast - because, as you say, he does not +know it himself.' + +The princess smiled. + +'Much good that would do, Curdie! I don't say there are no cases +in which it would be of use, but they are very rare and peculiar +cases, and if such come you will know them. To such a person there +is in general no insult like the truth. He cannot endure it, not +because he is growing a beast, but because he is ceasing to be a +man. It is the dying man in him that it makes uncomfortable, and +he trots, or creeps, or swims, or flutters out of its way - calls +it a foolish feeling, a whim, an old wives' fable, a bit of +priests' humbug, an effete superstition, and so on.' + +'And is there no hope for him? Can nothing be done? It's so awful +to think of going down, down, down like that!' + +'Even when it's with his own will?' + +'That's what seems to me to make it worst of all,' said Curdie. + +'You are right,' answered the princess, nodding her head; 'but +there is this amount of excuse to make for all such, remember - +that they do not know what or how horrid their coming fate is. +Many a lady, so delicate and nice that she can bear nothing coarser +than the finest linen to touch her body, if she had a mirror that +could show her the animal she is growing to, as it lies waiting +within the fair skin and the fine linen and the silk and the +jewels, would receive a shock that might possibly wake her up.' + +'Why then, ma'am, shouldn't she have it?' + +The princess held her peace. + +'Come here, Lina,' she said after a long pause. + +From somewhere behind Curdie, crept forward the same hideous animal +which had fawned at his feet at the door, and which, without his +knowing it, had followed him every step up the dove tower. She ran +to the princess, and lay down flat at her feet, looking up at her +with an expression so pitiful that in Curdie's heart it overcame +all the ludicrousness of her horrible mass of incongruities. She +had a very short body, and very long legs made like an elephant's, +so that in lying down she kneeled with both pairs. Her tail, which +dragged on the floor behind her, was twice as long and quite as +thick as her body. Her head was something between that of a polar +bear and a snake. Her eyes were dark green, with a yellow light in +them. Her under teeth came up like a fringe of icicles, only very +white, outside of her upper lip. Her throat looked as if the hair +had been plucked off. it showed a skin white and smooth. + +'Give Curdie a paw, Lina,' said the princess. + +The creature rose, and, lifting a long foreleg, held up a great +doglike paw to Curdie. He took it gently. But what a shudder, as +of terrified delight, ran through him, when, instead of the paw of +a dog, such as it seemed to his eyes, he clasped in his great +mining fist the soft, neat little hand of a child! He took it in +both of his, and held it as if he could not let it go. The green +eyes stared at him with their yellow light, and the mouth was +turned up toward him with its constant half grin; but here was the +child's hand! If he could but pull the child out of the beast! +His eyes sought the princess. She was watching him with evident +satisfaction. + +'Ma'am, here is a child's hand!' said Curdie. + +'Your gift does more for you than it promised. It is yet better to +perceive a hidden good than a hidden evil.' + +'But,' began Curdie. + +'I am not going to answer any more questions this evening,' +interrupted the princess. 'You have not half got to the bottom of +the answers I have already given you. That paw in your hand now +might almost teach you the whole science of natural history - the +heavenly sort, I mean.' + +'I will think,' said Curdie. 'But oh! please! one word more: may +I tell my father and mother all about it?' + +'Certainly - though perhaps now it may be their turn to find it a +little difficult to believe that things went just as you must tell +them.' + +'They shall see that I believe it all this time,' said Curdie. + +'Tell them that tomorrow morning you must set out for the court - +not like a great man, but just as poor as you are. They had better +not speak about it. Tell them also that it will be a long time +before they hear of you again, but they must not lose heart. And +tell your father to lay that stone I gave him at night in a safe +place - not because of the greatness of its price, although it is +such an emerald as no prince has in his crown, but because it will +be a news-bearer between you and him. As often as he gets at all +anxious about you, he must take it and lay it in the fire, and +leave it there when he goes to bed. In the morning he must find it +in the ashes, and if it be as green as ever, then all goes well +with you; if it have lost colour, things go ill with you; but if it +be very pale indeed, then you are in great danger, and he must come +to me.' + +'Yes, ma'am,' said Curdie. 'Please, am I to go now?' + +'Yes,' answered the princess, and held out her hand to him. + +Curdie took it, trembling with joy. It was a very beautiful hand +- not small, very smooth, but not very soft - and just the same to +his fire-taught touch that it was to his eyes. He would have stood +there all night holding it if she had not gently withdrawn it. + +'I will provide you a servant,' she said, 'for your journey and to +wait upon you afterward.' + +'But where am I to go, ma'am, and what am I to do? You have given +me no message to carry, neither have you said what I am wanted for. +I go without a notion whether I am to walk this way or that, or +what I am to do when I get I don't know where.' + +'Curdie!' said the princess, and there was a tone of reminder in +his own name as she spoke it, 'did I not tell you to tell your +father and mother that you were to set out for the court? And you +know that lies to the north. You must learn to use far less direct +directions than that. You must not be like a dull servant that +needs to be told again and again before he will understand. You +have orders enough to start with, and you will find, as you go on, +and as you need to know, what you have to do. But I warn you that +perhaps it will not look the least like what you may have been +fancying I should require of you. I have one idea of you and your +work, and you have another. I do not blame you for that - you +cannot help it yet; but you must be ready to let my idea, which +sets you working, set your idea right. Be true and honest and +fearless, and all shall go well with you and your work, and all +with whom your work lies, and so with your parents - and me too, +Curdie,' she added after a little pause. + +The young miner bowed his head low, patted the strange head that +lay at the princess's feet, and turned away. As soon as he passed +the spinning wheel, which looked, in the midst of the glorious +room, just like any wheel you might find in a country cottage - old +and worn and dingy and dusty - the splendour of the place vanished, +and he saw but the big bare room he seemed at first to have +entered, with the moon - the princess's moon no doubt - shining in +at one of the windows upon the spinning wheel. + + + +CHAPTER 9 +Hands + + +Curdie went home, pondering much, and told everything to his father +and mother. As the old princess had said, it was now their turn to +find what they heard hard to believe. if they had not been able to +trust Curdie himself, they would have refused to believe more than +the half of what he reported, then they would have refused that +half too, and at last would most likely for a time have disbelieved +in the very existence of the princess, what evidence their own +senses had given them notwithstanding. + +For he had nothing conclusive to show in proof of what he told +them. When he held out his hands to them, his mother said they +looked as if he had been washing them with soft soap, only they did +smell of something nicer than that, and she must allow it was more +like roses than anything else she knew. His father could not see +any difference upon his hands, but then it was night, he said, and +their poor little lamp was not enough for his old eyes. As to the +feel of them, each of his own hands, he said, was hard and horny +enough for two, and it must be the fault of the dullness of his own +thick skin that he felt no change on Curdie's palms. + +'Here, Curdie,' said his mother, 'try my hand, and see what beast's +paw lies inside it.' +'No, Mother,' answered Curdie, half beseeching, half indignant, 'I +will not insult my new gift by making pretence to try it. That +would be mockery. There is no hand within yours but the hand of a +true woman, my mother.' + +'I should like you just to take hold of my hand though,' said his +mother. 'You are my son, and may know all the bad there is in me.' + +Then at once Curdie took her hand in his. And when he had it, he +kept it, stroking it gently with his other hand. + +'Mother,' he said at length, 'your hand feels just like that of the +princess.' + +'What! My horny, cracked, rheumatic old hand, with its big joints, +and its short nails all worn down to the quick with hard work - +like the hand of the beautiful princess! Why, my child, you will +make me fancy your fingers have grown very dull indeed, instead of +sharp and delicate, if you talk such nonsense. Mine is such an +ugly hand I should be ashamed to show it to any but one that loved +me. But love makes all safe - doesn't it, Curdie?' + +'Well, Mother, all I can say is that I don't feel a roughness, or +a crack, or a big joint, or a short nail. Your hand feels just and +exactly, as near as I can recollect, and it's not more than two +hours since I had it in mine - well, I will say, very like indeed +to that of the old princess.' + +'Go away, you flatterer,' said his mother, with a smile that showed +how she prized the love that lay beneath what she took for its +hyperbole. The praise even which one cannot accept is sweet from +a true mouth. 'If that is all your new gift can do, it won't make +a warlock of you,' she added. + +'Mother, it tells me nothing but the truth,' insisted Curdie, +'however unlike the truth it may seem. it wants no gift to tell +what anybody's outside hands are like. But by it I know your +inside hands are like the princess's.' + +'And I am sure the boy speaks true,' said Peter. 'He only says +about your hand what I have known ever so long about yourself, +Joan. Curdie, your mother's foot is as pretty a foot as any lady's +in the land, and where her hand is not so pretty it comes of +killing its beauty for you and me, my boy. And I can tell you +more, Curdie. I don't know much about ladies and gentlemen, but I +am sure your inside mother must be a lady, as her hand tells you, +and I will try to say how I know it. This is how: when I forget +myself looking at her as she goes about her work - and that happens +often as I grow older - I fancy for a moment or two that I am a +gentleman; and when I wake up from my little dream, it is only to +feel the more strongly that I must do everything as a gentleman +should. I will try to tell you what I mean, Curdie. If a +gentleman - I mean a real gentleman, not a pretended one, of which +sort they say there are a many above ground - if a real gentleman +were to lose all his money and come down to work in the mines to +get bread for his family - do you think, Curdie, he would work like +the lazy ones? Would he try to do as little as he could for his +wages? I know the sort of the true gentleman pretty near as well +as he does himself. And my wife, that's your mother, Curdie, she's +a true lady, you may take my word for it, for it's she that makes +me want to be a true gentleman. Wife, the boy is in the right +about your hand.' + +'Now, Father, let me feel yours,' said Curdie, daring a little +more. + +'No, no, my boy,' answered Peter. 'I don't want to hear anything +about my hand or my head or my heart. I am what I am, and I hope +growing better, and that's enough. No, you shan't feel my hand. +You must go to bed, for you must start with the sun.' + +It was not as if Curdie had been leaving them to go to prison, or +to make a fortune, and although they were sorry enough to lose him, +they were not in the least heartbroken or even troubled at his +going. + +As the princess had said he was to go like the poor man he was, +Curdie came down in the morning from his little loft dressed in his +working clothes. His mother, who was busy getting his breakfast +for him, while his father sat reading to her out of an old book, +would have had him put on his holiday garments, which, she said, +would look poor enough among the fine ladies and gentlemen he was +going to. But Curdie said he did not know that he was going among +ladies and gentlemen, and that as work was better than play, his +workday clothes must on the whole be better than his playday +Clothes; and as his father accepted the argument, his mother gave +in. When he had eaten his breakfast, she took a pouch made of +goatskin, with the long hair on it, filled it with bread and +cheese, and hung it over his shoulder. Then his father gave him a +stick he had cut for him in the wood, and he bade them good-bye +rather hurriedly, for he was afraid of breaking down. As he went +out he caught up his mattock and took it with him. It had on the +one side a pointed curve of strong steel for loosening the earth +and the ore, and on the other a steel hammer for breaking the +stones and rocks. just as he crossed the threshold the sun showed +the first segment of his disc above the horizon. + + + +CHAPTER 10 +The Heath + + +He had to go to the bottom of the hill to get into a country he +could cross, for the mountains to the north were full of +precipices, and it would have been losing time to go that way. Not +until he had reached the king's house was it any use to turn +northwards. Many a look did he raise, as he passed it, to the dove +tower, and as long as it was in sight, but he saw nothing of the +lady of the pigeons. + +On and on he fared, and came in a few hours to a country where +there were no mountains more - only hills, with great stretches of +desolate heath. Here and there was a village, but that brought him +little pleasure, for the people were rougher and worse mannered +than those in the mountains, and as he passed through, the children +came behind and mocked him. + +'There's a monkey running away from the mines!' they cried. +Sometimes their parents came out and encouraged them. + +'He doesn't want to find gold for the king any longer - the +lazybones!' they would say. 'He'll be well taxed down here though, +and he won't like that either.' + +But it was little to Curdie that men who did not know what he was +about should not approve of his proceedings. He gave them a merry +answer now and then, and held diligently on his way. When they got +so rude as nearly to make him angry, he would treat them as he used +to treat the goblins, and sing his own songs to keep out their +foolish noises. Once a child fell as he turned to run away after +throwing a stone at him. He picked him up, kissed him, and carried +him to his mother. The woman had run out in terror when she saw +the strange miner about, as she thought, to take vengeance on her +boy. When he put him in her arms, she blessed him, and Curdie went +on his way rejoicing. + +And so the day went on, and the evening came, and in the middle of +a great desolate heath he began to feel tired, and sat down under +an ancient hawthorn, through which every now and then a lone wind +that seemed to come from nowhere and to go nowhither sighed and +hissed. It was very old and distorted. There was not another tree +for miles all around. it seemed to have lived so long, and to have +been so torn and tossed by the tempests on that moor, that it had +at last gathered a wind of its own, which got up now and then, +tumbled itself about, and lay down again. + +Curdie had been so eager to get on that he had eaten nothing since +his breakfast. But he had had plenty of water, for Many little +streams had crossed his path. He now opened the wallet his mother +had given him, and began to eat his supper. The sun was setting. +A few clouds had gathered about the west, but there was not a +single cloud anywhere else to be seen. + +Now Curdie did not know that this was a part of the country very +hard to get through. Nobody lived there, though many had tried to +build in it. Some died very soon. Some rushed out of it. Those +who stayed longest went raving mad, and died a terrible death. +Such as walked straight on, and did not spend a night there, got +through well and were nothing the worse. But those who slept even +a single night in it were sure to meet with something they could +never forget, and which often left a mark everybody could read. +And that old hawthorn Might have been enough for a warning - it +looked so like a human being dried up and distorted with age and +suffering, with cares instead of loves, and things instead of +thoughts. Both it and the heath around it, which stretched on all +sides as far as he could see, were so withered that it was +impossible to say whether they were alive or not. + +And while Curdie ate there came a change. Clouds had gathered over +his head, and seemed drifting about in every direction, as if not +'shepherded by the slow, unwilling wind,' but hunted in all +directions by wolfish flaws across the plains of the sky. The sun +was going down in a storm of lurid crimson, and out of the west +came a wind that felt red and hot the one moment, and cold and pale +the other. And very strangely it sang in the dreary old hawthorn +tree, and very cheerily it blew about Curdie, now making him creep +close up to the tree for shelter from its shivery cold, now fan +himself with his cap, it was so sultry and stifling. It seemed to +come from the deathbed of the sun, dying in fever and ague. + +And as he gazed at the sun, now on the verge of the horizon, very +large and very red and very dull - for though the clouds had broken +away a dusty fog was spread all over the disc - Curdie saw +something strange appear against it, moving about like a fly over +its burning face. This looked as if it were coming out of the +sun's furnace heart, and was a living creature of some kind surely; +but its shape was very uncertain, because the dazzle of the light +all around melted the outlines. + +It was growing larger, it must be approaching! It grew so rapidly +that by the time the sun was half down its head reached the top of +the arch, and presently nothing but its legs were to be seen, +crossing and recrossing the face of the vanishing disc. + +When the sun was down he could see nothing of it more, but in a +moment he heard its feet galloping over the dry crackling heather, +and seeming to come straight for him. He stood up, lifted his +pickaxes and threw the hammer end over his shoulder: he was going +to have a fight for his life! And now it appeared again, vague, +yet very awful, in the dim twilight the sun had left behind. But +just before it reached him, down from its four long legs it dropped +flat on the ground, and came crawling towards him, wagging a huge +tail as it came. + + + +CHAPTER 11 +Lina + + +IT was Lina. All at once Curdie recognized her - the frightful +creature he had seen at the princess's. He dropped his pickaxes +and held out his hand. She crept nearer and nearer, and laid her +chin in his palm, and he patted her ugly head. Then she crept away +behind the tree, and lay down, panting hard. +Curdie did not much like the idea of her being behind him. +Horrible as she was to look at, she seemed to his mind more +horrible when he was not looking at her. But he remembered the +child's hand, and never thought of driving her away. Now and then +he gave a glance behind him, and there she lay flat, with her eyes +closed and her terrible teeth gleaming between her two huge +forepaws. + +After his supper and his long day's journey it was no wonder Curdie +should now be sleepy. Since the sun set the air had been warm and +pleasant. He lay down under the tree, closed his eyes, and thought +to sleep. He found himself mistaken, however. But although he +could not sleep, he was yet aware of resting delightfully. + +Presently he heard a sweet sound of singing somewhere, such as he +had never heard before - a singing as of curious birds far off, +which drew nearer and nearer. At length he heard their wings, and, +opening his eyes, saw a number of very large birds, as it seemed, +alighting around him, still singing. It was strange to hear song +from the throats of such big birds. + +And still singing, with large and round but not the less birdlike +voices, they began to weave a strange dance about him, moving their +wings in time with their legs. But the dance seemed somehow to be +troubled and broken, and to return upon itself in an eddy, in place +of sweeping smoothly on. + +And he soon learned, in the low short growls behind him, the cause +of the imperfection: they wanted to dance all round the tree, but +Lina would not permit them to come on her side. + +Now curdie liked the birds, and did not altogether like Lina. But +neither, nor both together, made a reason for driving away the +princess's creature. Doubtless she had been the goblins' creature, +but the last time he saw her was in the king's house and the dove +tower, and at the old princess's feet. So he left her to do as she +would, and the dance of the birds continued only a semicircle, +troubled at the edges, and returning upon itself. + +But their song and their motions, nevertheless, and the waving of +their wings, began at length to make him very sleepy. All the time +he had kept doubting whether they could really be birds, and the +sleepier he got, the more he imagined them something else, but he +suspected no harm. + +Suddenly, just as he was sinking beneath the waves of slumber, he +awoke in fierce pain. The birds were upon him - all over him - and +had begun to tear him with beaks and claws. He had but time, +however, to feel that he could not move under their weight, when +they set up a hideous screaming, and scattered like a cloud. Lina +was among them, snapping and striking with her paws, while her tail +knocked them over and over. But they flew up, gathered, and +descended on her in a swarm, perching upon every part of her body, +so that he could see only a huge misshapen mass, which seemed to go +rolling away into the darkness. He got up and tried to follow, but +could see nothing, and after wandering about hither and thither for +some time, found himself again beside the hawthorn. He feared +greatly that the birds had been too much for Lina, and had torn her +to pieces. In a little while, however, she came limping back, and +lay down in her old place. Curdie also lay down, but, from the +pain of his wounds, there was no sleep for him. When the light +came he found his clothes a good deal torn and his skin as well, +but gladly wondered why the wicked birds had not at once attacked +his eyes. Then he turned, looking for Lina. She rose and crept to +him. But she was in far worse plight than he - plucked and gashed +and torn with the beaks and claws of the birds, especially about +the bare part of her neck, so that she was pitiful to see. And +those worst wounds she could not reach to lick. + +'Poor Lina!' said Curdie, 'you got all those helping me.' + +She wagged her tail, and made it clear she understood him. Then it +flashed upon Curdie's mind that perhaps this was the companion the +princess had promised him. For the princess did so many things +differently from what anybody looked for! Lina was no beauty +certainly, but already, the first night, she had saved his life. + +'Come along, Lina,' he said, 'we want water.' + +She put her nose to the earth, and after snuffing for a moment, +darted off in a straight line. Curdie followed. The ground was so +uneven, that after losing sight of her many times, at last he +seemed to have lost her altogether. In a few minutes, however, he +came upon her waiting for him. Instantly she darted off again. +After he had lost and found her again many times, he found her the +last time lying beside a great stone. As soon as he came up she +began scratching at it with her paws. When he had raised it an +inch or two, she shoved in first her nose and then her teeth, and +lifted with all the might of her neck. + +When at length between them they got it up, there was a beautiful +little well. He filled his cap with the clearest and sweetest +water, and drank. Then he gave to Lina, and she drank plentifully. +Next he washed her wounds very carefully. And as he did so, he +noted how much the bareness of her neck added to the strange +repulsiveness of her appearance. Then he bethought him of the +goatskin wallet his mother had given him, and taking it from his +shoulders, tried whether it would do to make a collar of for the +poor animal. He found there was just enough, and the hair so +similar in colour to Lina's, that no one could suspect it of having +grown somewhere else. + +He took his knife, ripped up the seams of the wallet, and began +trying the skin to her neck. it was plain she understood perfectly +what he wished, for she endeavoured to hold her neck conveniently, +turning it this way and that while he contrived, with his rather +scanty material, to make the collar fit. As his mother had taken +care to provide him with needles and thread, he soon had a nice +gorget ready for her. He laced it on with one of his boot laces, +which its long hair covered. Poor Lina looked much better in it. +Nor could any one have called it a piece of finery. If ever green +eyes with a yellow light in them looked grateful, hers did. + +As they had no longer any bag to carry them in, Curdie and Lina now +ate what was left of the provisions. Then they set out again upon +their journey. For seven days it lasted. They met with various +adventures, and in all of them Lina proved so helpful, and so ready +to risk her life for the sake of her companion, that Curdie grew +not merely very fond but very trustful of her; and her ugliness, +which at first only moved his pity, now actually increased his +affection for her. One day, looking at her stretched on the grass +before him, he said: + +'Oh, Lina! If the princess would but burn you in her fire of +roses!' + +She looked up at him, gave a mournful whine like a dog, and laid +her head on his feet. What or how much he could not tell, but +clearly she had gathered something from his words. + + +CHAPTER 12 +More Creatures + + +One day from morning till night they had been passing through a +forest. As soon as the sun was down Curdie began to be aware that +there were more in it than themselves. First he saw only the swift +rush of a figure across the trees at some distance. Then he saw +another and then another at shorter intervals. Then he saw others +both farther off and nearer. At last, missing Lina and looking +about after her, he saw an appearance as marvellous as herself +steal up to her, and begin conversing with her after some beast +fashion which evidently she understood. + +Presently what seemed a quarrel arose between them, and stranger +noises followed, mingled with growling. At length it came to a +fight, which had not lasted long, however, before the creature of +the wood threw itself upon its back, and held up its paws to Lina. +She instantly walked on, and the creature got up and followed her. +They had not gone far before another strange animal appeared, +approaching Lina, when precisely the same thing was repeated, the +vanquished animal rising and following with the former. Again, and +yet again, and again, a fresh animal came up, seemed to be reasoned +and certainly was fought with and overcome by Lina, until at last, +before they were out of the wood, she was followed by forty-nine of +the most grotesquely ugly, the most extravagantly abnormal animals +imagination can conceive. To describe them were a hopeless task. + +I knew a boy who used to make animals out of heather roots. +Wherever he could find four legs, he was pretty sure to find a head +and a tail. His beasts were a most comic menagerie, and right +fruitful of laughter. But they were not so grotesque and +extravagant as Lina and her followers. One of them, for instance, +was like a boa constrictor walking on four little stumpy legs near +its tail. About the same distance from its head were two little +wings, which it was forever fluttering as if trying to fly with +them. Curdie thought it fancied it did fly with them, when it was +merely plodding on busily with its four little stumps. How it +managed to keep up he could not think, till once when he missed it +from the group: the same moment he caught sight of something at a +distance plunging at an awful serpentine rate through the trees, +and presently, from behind a huge ash, this same creature fell +again into the group, quietly waddling along on its four stumps. + +Watching it after this, he saw that, when it was not able to keep +up any longer, and they had all got a little space ahead, it shot +into the wood away from the route, and made a great round, +serpentine alone in huge billows of motion, devouring the ground, +undulating awfully, galloping as if it were all legs together, and +its four stumps nowhere. In this mad fashion it shot ahead, and, +a few minutes after, toddled in again among the rest, walking +peacefully and somewhat painfully on its few fours. + +From the time it takes to describe one of them it will be readily +seen that it would hardly do to attempt a description of each of +the forty-nine. They were not a goodly company, but well worth +contemplating, nevertheless; and Curdie had been too long used to +the goblins' creatures in the mines and on the mountain, to feel +the least uncomfortable at being followed by such a herd. On the +contrary, the marvellous vagaries of shape they manifested amused +him greatly, and shortened the journey much. + +Before they were all gathered, however, it had got so dark that he +could see some of them only a part at a time, and every now and +then, as the company wandered on, he would be startled by some +extraordinary limb or feature, undreamed of by him before, +thrusting itself out of the darkness into the range of his ken. +Probably there were some of his old acquaintances among them, +although such had been the conditions of semi-darkness, in which +alone he had ever seen any of them, that it was not like he would +be able to identify any of them. + +On they marched solemnly, almost in silence, for either with feet +or voice the creatures seldom made any noise. By the time they +reached the outside of the wood it was morning twilight. Into the +open trooped the strange torrent of deformity, each one following +Lina. Suddenly she stopped, turned towards them, and said +something which they understood, although to Curdie's ear the +sounds she made seemed to have no articulation. Instantly they all +turned, and vanished in the forest, and Lina alone came trotting +lithely and clumsily after her master. + + + +CHAPTER 13 +The Baker's Wife + + +They were now passing through a lovely country of hill and dale and +rushing stream. The hills were abrupt, with broken chasms for +watercourses, and deep little valleys full of trees. But now and +then they came to a larger valley, with a fine river, whose level +banks and the adjacent meadows were dotted all over with red and +white kine, while on the fields above, that sloped a little to the +foot of the hills, grew oats and barley and wheat, and on the sides +of the hills themselves vines hung and chestnuts rose. + +They came at last to a broad, beautiful river, up which they must +go to arrive at the city of Gwyntystorm, where the king had his +court. As they went the valley narrowed, and then the river, but +still it was wide enough for large boats. After this, while the +river kept its size, the banks narrowed, until there was only room +for a road between the river and the great Cliffs that overhung it. +At last river and road took a sudden turn, and lo! a great rock in +the river, which dividing flowed around it, and on the top of the +rock the city, with lofty walls and towers and battlements, and +above the city the palace of the king, built like a strong castle. +But the fortifications had long been neglected, for the whole +country was now under one king, and all men said there was no more +need for weapons or walls. No man pretended to love his neighbour, +but every one said he knew that peace and quiet behaviour was the +best thing for himself, and that, he said, was quite as useful, and +a great deal more reasonable. The city was prosperous and rich, +and if everybody was not comfortable, everybody else said he ought +to be. + +When Curdie got up opposite the mighty rock, which sparkled all +over with crystals, he found a narrow bridge, defended by gates and +portcullis and towers with loopholes. But the gates stood wide +open, and were dropping from their great hinges; the portcullis was +eaten away with rust, and clung to the grooves evidently immovable; +while the loopholed towers had neither floor nor roof, and their +tops were fast filling up their interiors. Curdie thought it a +pity, if only for their old story, that they should be thus +neglected. But everybody in the city regarded these signs of decay +as the best proof of the prosperity of the place. Commerce and +self-interest, they said, had got the better of violence, and the +troubles of the past were whelmed in the riches that flowed in at +their open gates. + +Indeed, there was one sect of philosophers in it which taught that +it would be better to forget all the past history of the city, were +it not that its former imperfections taught its present inhabitants +how superior they and their times were, and enabled them to glory +over their ancestors. There were even certain quacks in the city +who advertised pills for enabling people to think well of +themselves, and some few bought of them, but most laughed, and +said, with evident truth, that they did not require them. Indeed, +the general theme of discourse when they met was, how much wiser +they were than their fathers. + +Curdie crossed the river, and began to ascend the winding road that +led up to the city. They met a good many idlers, and all stared at +them. It was no wonder they should stare, but there was an +unfriendliness in their looks which Curdie did not like. No one, +however, offered them any molestation: Lina did not invite +liberties. After a long ascent, they reached the principal gate of +the city and entered. + +The street was very steep, ascending toward the palace, which rose +in great strength above all the houses. just as they entered, a +baker, whose shop was a few doors inside the gate, came out in his +white apron, and ran to the shop of his friend, the barber, on the +opposite side of the way. But as he ran he stumbled and fell +heavily. Curdie hastened to help him up, and found he had bruised +his forehead badly. He swore grievously at the stone for tripping +him up, declaring it was the third time he had fallen over it +within the last month; and saying what was the king about that he +allowed such a stone to stick up forever on the main street of his +royal residence of Gwyntystorm! What was a king for if he would +not take care of his people's heads! And he stroked his forehead +tenderly. +'Was it your head or your feet that ought to bear the blame of your +fall?' asked Curdie. + +'Why, you booby of a miner! My feet, of course,' answered + + +the baker. + +'Nay, then,' said Curdie, 'the king can't be to blame.' + +'Oh, I see!' said the baker. 'You're laying a trap for me. Of +course, if you come to that, it was my head that ought to have +looked after my feet. But it is the king's part to look after us +all, and have his streets smooth.' + +'Well, I don't see, said Curdie, 'why the king should take care of +the baker, when the baker's head won't take care of the baker's +feet.' + +'Who are you to make game of the king's baker?' cried the man in a +rage. + +But, instead of answering, Curdie went up to the bump on the street +which had repeated itself on the baker's head, and turning the +hammer end of his mattock, struck it such a blow that it flew wide +in pieces. Blow after blow he struck until he had levelled it with +the street. + +But out flew the barber upon him in a rage. +'What do you break my window for, you rascal, with your pickaxe?' + +'I am very sorry,' said Curdie. 'It must have been a bit of stone +that flew from my mattock. I couldn't help it, you know.' + +'Couldn't help it! A fine story! What do you go breaking the rock +for - the very rock upon which the city stands?' + +'Look at your friend's forehead,' said Curdie. 'See what a lump he +has got on it with falling over that same stone.' + +'What's that to my window?' cried the barber. 'His forehead can +mend itself; my poor window can't.' + +'But he's the king's baker,' said Curdie, more and more surprised +at the man's anger. + +'What's that to me? This is a free city. Every man here takes +care of himself, and the king takes care of us all. I'll have the +price of my window out of you, or the exchequer shall pay for it.' + +Something caught Curdie's eye. He stooped, picked up a piece of +the stone he had just broken, and put it in his pocket. + +'I suppose you are going to break another of my windows with that +stone!' said the barber. + +'Oh no,' said Curdie. 'I didn't mean to break your window, and I +certainly won't break another.' + +'Give me that stone,' said the barber. + +Curdie gave it him, and the barber threw it over the city wall. + +'I thought you wanted the stone,' said Curdie. + +'No, you fool!' answered the barber. 'What should I want with a +stone?' + +Curdie stooped and picked up another. + +'Give me that stone,' said the barber. + +'No,' answered Curdie. 'You have just told me YOU don't want a +stone, and I do.' + +The barber took Curdie by the collar. + +'Come, now! You pay me for that window.' + +'How much?' asked Curdie. + +The barber said, 'A crown.' But the baker, annoyed at the +heartlessness of the barber, in thinking more of his broken window +than the bump on his friend's forehead, interfered. + +'No, no,' he said to Curdie; 'don't you pay any such sum. A little +pane like that cost only a quarter.' + +'Well, to be certain,' said Curdie, 'I'll give a half.' For he +doubted the baker as well as the barber. 'Perhaps one day, if he +finds he has asked too much, he will bring me the difference.' + +'Ha! ha!' laughed the barber. 'A fool and his money are soon +parted.' + +But as he took the coin from Curdie's hand he grasped it in +affected reconciliation and real satisfaction. In Curdie's, his +was the cold smooth leathery palm of a monkey. He looked up, +almost expecting to see him pop the money in his cheek; but he had +not yet got so far as that, though he was well on the road to it: +then he would have no other pocket. + +'I'm glad that stone is gone, anyhow,' said the baker. 'It was the +bane of my life. I had no idea how easy it was to remove it. Give +me your pickaxes young miner, and I will show you how a baker can +make the stones fly.' + +He caught the tool out of Curdie's hand, and flew at one of the +foundation stones of the gateway. But he jarred his arm terribly, +scarcely chipped the stone, dropped the mattock with a cry of pain, +and ran into his own shop. Curdie picked up his implement, and, +looking after the baker, saw bread in the window, and followed him +in. But the baker, ashamed of himself, and thinking he was coming +to laugh at him, popped out of the back door, and when Curdie +entered, the baker's wife came from the bakehouse to serve him. +Curdie requested to know the price of a certain good-sized loaf. + +Now the baker's wife had been watching what had passed since first +her husband ran out of the shop, and she liked the look of Curdie. +Also she was more honest than her husband. Casting a glance to the +back door, she replied: + +'That is not the best bread. I will sell you a loaf of what we +bake for ourselves.' And when she had spoken she laid a finger on +her lips. 'Take care of yourself in this place, MY son,' she +added. 'They do not love strangers. I was once a stranger here, +and I know what I say.' Then fancying she heard her husband, 'That +is a strange animal you have,' she said, in a louder voice. + +'Yes,' answered Curdie. 'She is no beauty, but she is very good, +and we love each other. Don't we, Lina?' + +Lina looked up and whined. Curdie threw her the half of his loaf, +which she ate, while her master and the baker's wife talked a +little. Then the baker's wife gave them some water, and Curdie +having paid for his loaf, he and Lina went up the street together. + + +CHAPTER 14 +The Dogs of Gwyntystorm + + +The steep street led them straight up to a large market place with +butchers' shops, about which were many dogs. The moment they +caught sight of Lina, one and all they came rushing down upon her, +giving her no chance of explaining herself. When Curdie saw the +dogs coming he heaved up his mattock over his shoulder, and was +ready, if they would have it so. Seeing him thus prepared to +defend his follower, a great ugly bulldog flew at him. With the +first blow Curdie struck him through the brain and the brute fell +dead at his feet. But he could not at once recover his weapon, +which stuck in the skull of his foe, and a huge mastiff, seeing him +thus hampered, flew at him next. + +Now Lina, who had shown herself so brave upon the road thither, had +grown shy upon entering the city, and kept always at Curdie's heel. +But it was her turn now. The moment she saw her master in danger +she seemed to go mad with rage. As the mastiff jumped at Curdie's +throat, Lina flew at him, seized him with her tremendous jaws, gave +one roaring grind, and he lay beside the bulldog with his neck +broken. They were the best dogs in the market, after the judgement +of the butchers of Gwyntystorm. Down came their masters, knives in +hand. + +Curdie drew himself up fearlessly, mattock on shoulder, and awaited +their coming, while at his heel his awful attendant showed not only +her outside fringe of icicle teeth, but a double row of right +serviceable fangs she wore inside her mouth, and her green eyes +flashed yellow as gold. The butchers, not liking the look of +either of them or of the dogs at their feet, drew back, and began +to remonstrate in the manner of outraged men. + +'Stranger,' said the first, 'that bulldog is mine.' + +'Take him, then,' said Curdie, indignant. + +'You've killed him!' + +'Yes - else he would have killed me.' + +'That's no business of mine.' + +'No?' + +'No.' + +'That makes it the more mine, then.' + +'This sort of thing won't do, you know,' said the other butcher. + +'That's true,' said Curdie. +'That's my mastiff,' said the butcher. + +'And as he ought to be,' said Curdie. + +'Your brute shall be burned alive for it,' said the butcher. + +'Not yet,' answered Curdie. 'We have done no wrong. We were +walking quietly up your street when your dogs flew at us. If you +don't teach your dogs how to treat strangers, you must take the +consequences.' + +'They treat them quite properly,' said the butcher. 'What right +has any one to bring an abomination like that into our city? The +horror is enough to make an idiot of every child in the place.' + +'We are both subjects of the king, and my poor animal can't help +her looks. How would you like to be served like that because you +were ugly? She's not a bit fonder of her looks than you are - only +what can she do to change them?' + +'I'll do to change them,' said the fellow. + +Thereupon the butchers brandished their long knives and advanced, +keeping their eyes upon Lina. + +'Don't be afraid, Lina,' cried Curdie. 'I'll kill one - you kill +the other.' + +Lina gave a howl that might have terrified an army, and crouched +ready to spring. The butchers turned and ran. + +By this time a great crowd had gathered behind the butchers, and in +it a number of boys returning from school who began to stone the +strangers. It was a way they had with man or beast they did not +expect to make anything by. One of the stones struck Lina; she +caught it in her teeth and crunched it so that it fell in gravel +from her mouth. Some of the foremost of the crowd saw this, and it +terrified them. They drew back; the rest took fright from their +retreat; the panic spread; and at last the crowd scattered in all +directions. They ran, and cried out, and said the devil and his +dam were come to Gwyntystorm. So Curdie and Lina were left +standing unmolested in the market place. But the terror of them +spread throughout the city, and everybody began to shut and lock +his door so that by the time the setting sun shone down the street, +there was not a shop left open, for fear of the devil and his +horrible dam. But all the upper windows within sight of them were +crowded with heads watching them where they stood lonely in the +deserted market place. + +Curdie looked carefully all round, but could not see one open door. +He caught sight of the sign of an inn, however, and laying down his +mattock, and telling Lina to take care of it, walked up to the door +of it and knocked. But the people in the house, instead of opening +the door, threw things at him from the windows. They would not +listen to a word he said, but sent him back to Lina with the blood +running down his face. When Lina saw that she leaped up in a fury +and was rushing at the house, into which she would certainly have +broken; but Curdie called her, and made her lie down beside him +while he bethought him what next he should do. + +'Lina,' he said, 'the people keep their gates open, but their +houses and their hearts shut.' + +As if she knew it was her presence that had brought this trouble +upon him, she rose and went round and round him, purring like a +tigress, and rubbing herself against his legs. + +Now there was one little thatched house that stood squeezed in +between two tall gables, and the sides of the two great houses shot +out projecting windows that nearly met across the roof of the +little one, so that it lay in the street like a doll's house. In +this house lived a poor old woman, with a grandchild. And because +she never gossiped or quarrelled, or chaffered in the market, but +went without what she could not afford, the people called her a +witch, and would have done her many an ill turn if they had not +been afraid of her. + +Now while Curdie was looking in another direction the door opened, +and out came a little dark-haired, black-eyed, gypsy-looking child, +and toddled across the market place toward the outcasts. The +moment they saw her coming, Lina lay down flat on the road, and +with her two huge forepaws covered her mouth, while Curdie went to +meet her, holding out his arms. The little one came straight to +him, and held up her mouth to be kissed. Then she took him by the +hand, and drew him toward the house, and Curdie yielded to the +silent invitation. + +But when Lina rose to follow, the child shrank from her, frightened +a little. Curdie took her up, and holding her on one arm, patted +Lina with the other hand. Then the child wanted also to pat doggy, +as she called her by a right bountiful stretch of courtesy, and +having once patted her, nothing would serve but Curdie must let her +have a ride on doggy. So he set her on Lina's back, holding her +hand, and she rode home in merry triumph, all unconscious of the +hundreds of eyes staring at her foolhardiness from the windows +about the market place, or the murmur of deep disapproval that rose +from as many lips. + +At the door stood the grandmother to receive them. She caught the +child to her bosom with delight at her courage, welcomed Curdie, +and showed no dread of Lina. Many were the significant nods +exchanged, and many a one said to another that the devil and the +witch were old friends. But the woman was only a wise woman, who, +having seen how Curdie and Lina behaved to each other, judged from +that what sort they were, and so made them welcome to her house. +She was not like her fellow townspeople, for that they were +strangers recommended them to her. + +The moment her door was shut the other doors began to open, and +soon there appeared little groups here and there about a threshold, +while a few of the more courageous ventured out upon the square - +all ready to make for their houses again, however, upon the least +sign of movement in the little thatched one. + +The baker and the barber had joined one of these groups, and were +busily wagging their tongues against Curdie and his horrible beast. + +'He can't be honest,' said the barber; 'for he paid me double the +worth of the pane he broke in my window.' + +And then he told them how Curdie broke his window by breaking a +stone in the street with his hammer. There the baker struck in. + +'Now that was the stone,' said he, 'over which I had fallen three +times within the last month: could it be by fair means he broke +that to pieces at the first blow? Just to make up my mind on that +point I tried his own hammer against a stone in the gate; it nearly +broke both my arms, and loosened half the teeth in my head!' + + + +CHAPTER 15 +Derba and Barbara + +Meantime the wanderers were hospitably entertained by the old woman +and her grandchild and they were all very comfortable and happy +together. Little Barbara sat upon Curdie's knee, and he told her +stories about the mines and his adventures in them. But he never +mentioned the king or the princess, for all that story was hard to +believe. And he told her about his mother and father, and how good +they were. And Derba sat and listened. At last little Barbara +fell asleep in Curdie's arms, and her grandmother carried her to +bed. + +It was a poor little house, and Derba gave up her own room to +Curdie because he was honest and talked wisely. Curdie saw how it +was, and begged her to allow him to lie on the floor, but she would +not hear of it. + +In the night he was waked by Lina pulling at him. As soon as he +spoke to her she ceased, and Curdie, listening, thought he heard +someone trying to get in. He rose, took his mattock, and went +about the house, listening and watching; but although he heard +noises now at one place now at another, he could not think what +they meant for no one appeared. Certainly, considering how she had +frightened them all in the day, it was not likely any one would +attack Lina at night. By and by the noises ceased, and Curdie went +back to his bed, and slept undisturbed. + +In the morning, however, Derba came to him in great agitation, and +said they had fastened up the door, so that she could not get out. +Curdie rose immediately and went with her: they found that not only +the door, but every window in the house was so secured on the +outside that it was impossible to open one of them without using +great force. Poor Derba looked anxiously in Curdie's face. He +broke out laughing. + +'They are much mistaken,' he said, 'if they fancy they could keep +Lina and a miner in any house in Gwyntystorm - even if they built +up doors and windows.' + +With that he shouldered his mattock. But Derba begged him not to +make a hole in her house just yet. She had plenty for breakfast, +she said, and before it was time for dinner they would know what +the people meant by it. + +And indeed they did. For within an hour appeared one of the chief +magistrates of the city, accompanied by a score of soldiers with +drawn swords, and followed by a great multitude of people, +requiring the miner and his brute to yield themselves, the one that +he might be tried for the disturbance he had occasioned and the +injury he had committed, the other that she might be roasted alive +for her part in killing two valuable and harmless animals belonging +to worthy citizens. The summons was preceded and followed by +flourish of trumpet, and was read with every formality by the city +marshal himself. + +The moment he ended, Lina ran into the little passage, and stood +opposite the door. + +'I surrender,' cried Curdie. + +'Then tie up your brute, and give her here.' + +'No, no,' cried Curdie through the door. 'I surrender; but I'm not +going to do your hangman's work. If you want MY dog, you must take +her.' + +'Then we shall set the house on fire, and burn witch and all.' + +'It will go hard with us but we shall kill a few dozen of you +first,' cried Curdie. 'We're not the least afraid of you.' With +that Curdie turned to Derba, and said: + +'Don't be frightened. I have a strong feeling that all will be +well. Surely no trouble will come to you for being good to +strangers.' + +'But the poor dog!' said Derba. + +Now Curdie and Lina understood each other more than a little by +this time, and not only had he seen that she understood the +proclamation, but when she looked up at him after it was read, it +was with such a grin, and such a yellow flash, that he saw also she +was determined to take care of herself. +'The dog will probably give you reason to think a little more of +her ere long,' he answered. 'But now,' he went on, 'I fear I must +hurt your house a little. I have great confidence, however, that +I shall be able to make up to you for it one day.' + +'Never mind the house, if only you can get safe off,' she answered. +'I don't think they will hurt this precious lamb,' she added, +clasping little Barbara to her bosom. 'For myself, it is all one; +I am ready for anything.' + +'it is but a little hole for Lina I want to make,' said Curdie. +'She can creep through a much smaller one than you would think.' + +Again he took his mattock, and went to the back wall. + +'They won't burn the house,' he said to himself. 'There is too +good a one on each side of it.' + +The tumult had kept increasing every moment, and the city marshal +had been shouting, but Curdie had not listened to him. When now +they heard the blows of his mattock, there went up a great cry, and +the people taunted the soldiers that they were afraid of a dog and +his miner. The soldiers therefore made a rush at the door, and cut +its fastenings. + +The moment they opened it, out leaped Lina, with a roar so +unnaturally horrible that the sword arms of the soldiers dropped by +their sides, paralysed with the terror of that cry; the crowd fled +in every direction, shrieking and yelling with mortal dismay; and +without even knocking down with her tail, not to say biting a man +of them with her pulverizing jaws, Lina vanished - no one knew +whither, for not one of the crowd had had courage to look upon her. + +The moment she was gone, Curdie advanced and gave himself up. The +soldiers were so filled with fear, shame, and chagrin, that they +were ready to kill him on the spot. But he stood quietly facing +them, with his mattock on his shoulder; and the magistrate wishing +to examine him, and the people to see him made an example of, the +soldiers had to content themselves with taking him. Partly for +derision, partly to hurt him, they laid his mattock against his +back, and tied his arms to it. + +They led him up a very steep street, and up another still, all the +crowd following. The king's palace-castle rose towering above +them; but they stopped before they reached it, at a low-browed door +in a great, dull, heavy-looking building. + +The city marshal opened it with a key which hung at his girdle, and +ordered Curdie to enter. The place within was dark as night, and +while he was feeling his way with his feet, the marshal gave him a +rough push. He fell, and rolled once or twice over, unable to help +himself because his hands were tied behind him. + +It was the hour of the magistrate's second and more important +breakfast, and until that was over he never found himself capable +of attending to a case with concentration sufficient to the +distinguishing of the side upon which his own advantage lay; and +hence was this respite for Curdie, with time to collect his +thoughts. But indeed he had very few to collect, for all he had to +do, so far as he could see, was to wait for what would come next. +Neither had he much power to collect them, for he was a good deal +shaken. + +in a few minutes he discovered, to his great relief, that, from the +projection of the pick end of his mattock beyond his body, the fall +had loosened the ropes tied round it. He got one hand disengaged, +and then the other; and presently stood free, with his good mattock +once more in right serviceable relation to his arms and legs. + + + +CHAPTER 16 +The Mattock + + +While The magistrate reinvigorated his selfishness with a greedy +breakfast, Curdie found doing nothing in the dark rather tiresome +work. it was useless attempting to think what he should do next, +seeing the circumstances in which he was presently to find himself +were altogether unknown to him. So he began to think about his +father and mother in their little cottage home, high in the clear +air of the open Mountainside, and the thought, instead of making +his dungeon gloomier by the contrast, made a light in his soul that +destroyed the power of darkness and captivity. + +But he was at length startled from his waking dream by a swell in +the noise outside. All the time there had been a few of the more +idle of the inhabitants about the door, but they had been rather +quiet. Now, however, the sounds of feet and voices began to grow, +and grew so rapidly that it was plain a multitude was gathering. +For the people of Gwyntystorm always gave themselves an hour of +pleasure after their second breakfast, and what greater pleasure +could they have than to see a stranger abused by the officers of +justice? + +The noise grew till it was like the roaring of the sea, and that +roaring went on a long time, for the magistrate, being a great man, +liked to know that he was waited for: it added to the enjoyment of +his breakfast, and, indeed, enabled him to eat a little more after +he had thought his powers exhausted. + +But at length, in the waves of the human noises rose a bigger wave, +and by the running and shouting and outcry, Curdie learned that the +magistrate was approaching. + +Presently came the sound of the great rusty key in the lock, which +yielded with groaning reluctance; the door was thrown back, the +light rushed in, and with it came the voice of the city marshal, +calling upon Curdie, by many legal epithets opprobrious, to come +forth and be tried for his life, inasmuch as he had raised a tumult +in His Majesty's city of Gwyntystorm, troubled the hearts of the +king's baker and barber, and slain the faithful dogs of His +Majesty's well-beloved butchers. + +He was still reading, and Curdie was still seated in the brown +twilight of the vault, not listening, but pondering with himself +how this king the city marshal talked of could be the same with the +Majesty he had seen ride away on his grand white horse with the +Princess Irene on a cushion before him, when a scream of agonized +terror arose on the farthest skirt of the crowd, and, swifter than +flood or flame, the horror spread shrieking. In a moment the air +was filled with hideous howling, cries of unspeakable dismay, and +the multitudinous noise of running feet. The next moment, in at +the door of the vault bounded Lina, her two green eyes flaming +yellow as sunflowers, and seeming to light up the dungeon. With +one spring she threw herself at Curdie's feet, and laid her head +upon them panting. Then came a rush of two or three soldiers +darkening the doorway, but it was only to lay hold of the key, pull +the door to, and lock it; so that once more Curdie and Lina were +prisoners together. + +For a few moments Lina lay panting hard: it is breathless work +leaping and roaring both at once, and that in a way to scatter +thousands of people. Then she jumped up, and began snuffing about +all over the place; and Curdie saw what he had never seen before - +two faint spots of light cast from her eyes upon the ground, one on +each side of her snuffing nose. He got out his tinder box - a +miner is never without one - and lighted a precious bit of candle +he carried in a division of it just for a moment, for he must not +waste it. + +The light revealed a vault without any window or other opening than +the door. It was very old and much neglected. The mortar had +vanished from between the stones, and it was half filled with a +heap of all sorts of rubbish, beaten down in the middle, but looser +at the sides; it sloped from the door to the foot of the opposite +wall: evidently for a long time the vault had been left open, and +every sort of refuse thrown into it. A single minute served for +the survey, so little was there to note. + +Meantime, down in the angle between the back wall and the base of +the heap Lina was scratching furiously with all the eighteen great +strong claws of her mighty feet. + +'Ah, ha!' said Curdie to himself, catching sight of her, 'if only +they will leave us long enough to ourselves!' + +With that he ran to the door, to see if there was any fastening on +the inside. There was none: in all its long history it never had +had one. But a few blows of the right sort, now from the one, now +from the other end of his mattock, were as good as any bolt, for +they so ruined the lock that no key could ever turn in it again. +Those who heard them fancied he was trying to get out, and laughed +spitefully. As soon as he had done, he extinguished his candle, +and went down to Lina. + +She had reached the hard rock which formed the floor of the +dungeon, and was now clearing away the earth a little wider. +Presently she looked up in his face and whined, as much as to say, +'My paws are not hard enough to get any farther.' + +'Then get out of my way, Lina,' said Curdie, and mind you keep your +eyes shining, for fear I should hit you.' + +So saying, he heaved his mattock, and assailed with the hammer end +of it the spot she had cleared. + +The rock was very hard, but when it did break it broke in +good-sized pieces. Now with hammer, now with pick, he worked till +he was weary, then rested, and then set to again. He could not +tell how the day went, as he had no light but the lamping of Lina's +eyes. The darkness hampered him greatly, for he would not let Lina +come close enough to give him all the light she could, lest he +should strike her. So he had, every now and then, to feel with his +hands to know how he was getting on, and to discover in what +direction to strike: the exact spot was a mere imagination. + +He was getting very tired and hungry, and beginning to lose heart +a little, when out of the ground, as if he had struck a spring of +it, burst a dull, gleamy, lead-coloured light, and the next moment +he heard a hollow splash and echo. A piece of rock had fallen out +of the floor, and dropped into water beneath. Already Lina, who +had been lying a few yards off all the time he worked, was on her +feet and peering through the hole. Curdie got down on his hands +and knees, and looked. They were over what seemed a natural cave +in the rock, to which apparently the river had access, for, at a +great distance below, a faint light was gleaming upon water. If +they could but reach it, they might get out; but even if it was +deep enough, the height was very dangerous. The first thing, +whatever might follow, was to make the hole larger. It was +comparatively easy to break away the sides of it, and in the course +of another hour he had it large enough to get through. + +And now he must reconnoitre. He took the rope they had tied him +with - for Curdie's hindrances were always his furtherance - and +fastened one end of it by a slipknot round the handle of his +pickaxes then dropped the other end through, and laid the pickaxe +so that, when he was through himself, and hanging on the edge, he +could place it across the hole to support him on the rope. This +done, he took the rope in his hands, and, beginning to descend, +found himself in a narrow cleft widening into a cave. His rope was +not very long, and would not do much to lessen the force of his +fall - he thought to himself - if he should have to drop into the +water; but he was not more than a couple of yards below the dungeon +when he spied an opening on the opposite side of the cleft: it +might be but a shadow hole, or it might lead them out. He dropped +himself a little below its level, gave the rope a swing by pushing +his feet against the side of the cleft, and so penduled himself +into it. Then he laid a stone on the end of the rope that it +should not forsake him, called to Lina, whose yellow eyes were +gleaming over the mattock grating above, to watch there till he +returned, and went cautiously in. It proved a passage, level for +some distance, then sloping gently up. He advanced carefully, +feeling his way as he went. At length he was stopped by a door - +a small door, studded with iron. But the wood was in places so +much decayed that some of the bolts had dropped out, and he felt +sure of being able to open it. He returned, therefore, to fetch +Lina and his mattock. Arrived at the cleft, his strong miner arms +bore him swiftly up along the rope and through the hole into the +dungeon. There he undid the rope from his mattock, and making Lina +take the end of it in her teeth, and get through the hole, he +lowered her - it was all he could do, she was so heavy. When she +came opposite the passage, with a slight push of her tail she shot +herself into it, and let go the rope, which Curdie drew up. + +Then he lighted his candle and searching in the rubbish found a bit +of iron to take the place of his pickaxe across the hole. Then he +searched again in the rubbish, and found half an old shutter. This +he propped up leaning a little over the hole, with a bit of stick, +and heaped against the back of it a quantity of the loosened earth. +Next he tied his mattock to the end of the rope, dropped it, and +let it hang. Last, he got through the hole himself, and pulled +away the propping stick, so that the shutter fell over the hole +with a quantity of earth on the top of it. A few motions of hand +over hand, and he swung himself and his mattock into the passage +beside Lina. + +There he secured the end of the rope, and they went on together to +the door. + + + +CHAPTER 17 +The Wine Cellar + + +He lighted his candle and examined it. Decayed and broken as it +was, it was strongly secured in its place by hinges on the one +side, and either lock or bolt, he could not tell which, on the +other. A brief use of his pocket-knife was enough to make room for +his hand and arm to get through, and then he found a great iron +bolt - but so rusty that he could not move it. + +Lina whimpered. He took his knife again, made the hole bigger, and +stood back. In she shot her small head and long neck, seized the +bolt with her teeth, and dragged it, grating and complaining, back. +A push then opened the door. it was at the foot of a short flight +of steps. They ascended, and at the top Curdie found himself in a +space which, from the echo to his stamp, appeared of some size, +though of what sort he could not at first tell, for his hands, +feeling about, came upon nothing. Presently, however, they fell on +a great thing: it was a wine cask. + +He was just setting out to explore the place thoroughly, when he +heard steps coming down a stair. He stood still, not knowing +whether the door would open an inch from his nose or twenty yards +behind his back. It did neither. He heard the key turn in the +lock, and a stream of light shot in, ruining the darkness, about +fifteen yards away on his right. + +A man carrying a candle in one hand and a large silver flagon in +the other, entered, and came toward him. The light revealed a row +of huge wine casks, that stretched away into the darkness of the +other end of the long vault. Curdie retreated into the recess of +the stair, and peeping round the corner of it, watched him, +thinking what he could do to prevent him from locking them in. He +came on and on, until curdie feared he would pass the recess and +see them. He was just preparing to rush out, and master him before +he should give alarm, not in the least knowing what he should do +next, when, to his relief, the man stopped at the third cask from +where he stood. He set down his light on the top of it, removed +what seemed a large vent-peg, and poured into the cask a quantity +of something from the flagon. Then he turned to the next cask, +drew some wine, rinsed the flagon, threw the wine away, drew and +rinsed and threw away again, then drew and drank, draining to the +bottom. Last of all, he filled the flagon from the cask he had +first visited, replaced then the vent-peg, took up his candle, and +turned toward the door. + +'There is something wrong here!' thought Curdie. + +'Speak to him, Lina,' he whispered. + +The sudden howl she gave made Curdie himself start and tremble for +a moment. As to the man, he answered Lina's with another horrible +howl, forced from him by the convulsive shudder of every muscle of +his body, then reeled gasping to and fro, and dropped his candle. +But just as Curdie expected to see him fall dead he recovered +himself, and flew to the door, through which he darted, leaving it +open behind him. The moment he ran, Curdie stepped out, picked up +the candle still alight, sped after him to the door, drew out the +key, and then returned to the stair and waited. in a few minutes +he heard the sound of many feet and voices. Instantly he turned +the tap of the cask from which the man had been drinking, set the +candle beside it on the floor, went down the steps and out of the +little door, followed by Lina, and closed it behind them. + +Through the hole in it he could see a little, and hear all. He +could see how the light of many candles filled the place, and could +hear how some two dozen feet ran hither and thither through the +echoing cellar; he could hear the clash of iron, probably spits and +pokers, now and then; and at last heard how, finding nothing +remarkable except the best wine running to waste, they all turned +on the butler and accused him of having fooled them with a drunken +dream. He did his best to defend himself, appealing to the +evidence of their own senses that he was as sober as they were. +They replied that a fright was no less a fright that the cause was +imaginary, and a dream no less a dream that the fright had waked +him from it. + +When he discovered, and triumphantly adduced as corroboration, that +the key was gone from the door, they said it merely showed how +drunk he had been - either that or how frightened, for he had +certainly dropped it. In vain he protested that he had never taken +it out of the lock - that he never did when he went in, and +certainly had not this time stopped to do so when he came out; they +asked him why he had to go to the cellar at such a time of the day, +and said it was because he had already drunk all the wine that was +left from dinner. He said if he had dropped the key, the key was +to be found, and they must help him to find it. They told him they +wouldn't move a peg for him. He declared, with much language, he +would have them all turned out of the king's service. They said +they would swear he was drunk. + +And so positive were they about it, that at last the butler himself +began to think whether it was possible they could be in the right. +For he knew that sometimes when he had been drunk he fancied things +had taken place which he found afterward could not have happened. +Certain of his fellow servants, however, had all the time a doubt +whether the cellar goblin had not appeared to him, or at least +roared at him, to protect the wine. in any case nobody wanted to +find the key for him; nothing could please them better than that +the door of the wine cellar should never more be locked. By +degrees the hubbub died away, and they departed, not even pulling +to the door, for there was neither handle nor latch to it. + +As soon as they were gone, Curdie returned, knowing now that they +were in the wine cellar of the palace, as indeed, he had suspected. +Finding a pool of wine in a hollow of the floor, Lina lapped it up +eagerly: she had had no breakfast, and was now very thirsty as well +as hungry. Her master was in a similar plight, for he had but just +begun to eat when the magistrate arrived with the soldiers. If +only they were all in bed, he thought, that he might find his way +to the larder! For he said to himself that, as he was sent there +by the young princess's great-great-grandmother to serve her or her +father in some way, surely he must have a right to his food in the +Palace, without which he could do nothing. He would go at once and +reconnoitre. + +So he crept up the stair that led from the cellar. At the top was +a door, opening on a long passage dimly lighted by a lamp. He told +Lina to lie down upon the stair while he went on. At the end of +the passage he found a door ajar, and, peering through, saw right +into a great stone hall, where a huge fire was blazing, and through +which men in the king's livery were constantly coming and going. +Some also in the same livery were lounging about the fire. He +noted that their colours were the same as those he himself, as +king's miner, wore; but from what he had seen and heard of the +habits of the place, he could not hope they would treat him the +better for that. + +The one interesting thing at the moment, however, was the plentiful +supper with which the table was spread. It was something at least +to stand in sight of food, and he was unwilling to turn his back on +the prospect so long as a share in it was not absolutely hopeless. +Peeping thus, he soon made UP his mind that if at any moment the +hall should be empty, he would at that moment rush in and attempt +to carry off a dish. That he might lose no time by indecision, he +selected a large pie upon which to pounce instantaneously. But +after he had watched for some minutes, it did not seem at all +likely the chance would arrive before suppertime, and he was just +about to turn away and rejoin Lina, when he saw that there was not +a person in the place. Curdie never made up his mind and then +hesitated. He darted in, seized the pie, and bore it swiftly and +noiselessly to the cellar stair. + + + +CHAPTER 18 +The King's Kitchen + + +Back to the cellar Curdie and Lina sped with their booty, where, +seated on the steps, Curdie lighted his bit of candle for a moment. +A very little bit it was now, but they did not waste much of it in +examination of the pie; that they effected by a more summary +process. Curdie thought it the nicest food he had ever tasted, and +between them they soon ate it up. Then Curdie would have thrown +the dish along with the bones into the water, that there might be +no traces of them; but he thought of his mother, and hid it +instead; and the very next minute they wanted it to draw some wine +into. He was careful it should be from the cask of which he had +seen the butler drink. + +Then they sat down again upon the steps, and waited until the house +should be quiet. For he was there to do something, and if it did +not come to him in the cellar, he must go to meet it in other +places. Therefore, lest he should fall asleep, he set the end of +the helve of his mattock on the ground, and seated himself on the +cross part, leaning against the wall, so that as long as he kept +awake he should rest, but the moment he began to fall asleep he +must fall awake instead. He quite expected some of the servants +would visit the cellar again that night, but whether it was that +they were afraid of each other, or believed more of the butler's +story than they had chosen to allow, not one of them appeared. + +When at length he thought he might venture, he shouldered his +mattock and crept up the stair. The lamp was out in the passage, +but he could not miss his way to the servants' hall. Trusting to +Lina's quickness in concealing herself, he took her with him. + +When they reached the hall they found it quiet and nearly dark. +The last of the great fire was glowing red, but giving little +light. Curdie stood and warmed himself for a few moments: miner as +he was, he had found the cellar cold to sit in doing nothing; and +standing thus he thought of looking if there were any bits of +candle about. There were many candlesticks on the supper table, +but to his disappointment and indignation their candles seemed to +have been all left to burn out, and some of them, indeed, he found +still hot in the neck. + +Presently, one after another, he came upon seven men fast asleep, +most of them upon tables, one in a chair, and one on the floor. +They seemed, from their shape and colour, to have eaten and drunk +so much that they might be burned alive without wakening. He +grasped the hand of each in succession,and found two ox hoofs, +three pig hoofs, one concerning which he could not be sure whether +it was the hoof of a donkey or a pony, and one dog's paw. 'A nice +set of people to be about a king!' thought Curdie to himself, and +turned again to his candle hunt. He did at last find two or three +little pieces, and stowed them away in his pockets. They now left +the hall by another door, and entered a short passage, which led +them to the huge kitchen, vaulted and black with smoke. There, +too, the fire was still burning, so that he was able to see a +little of the state of things in this quarter also. + +The place was dirty and disorderly. In a recess, on a heap of +brushwood, lay a kitchen-maid, with a table cover around her, and +a skillet in her hand: evidently she too had been drinking. In +another corner lay a page, and Curdie noted how like his dress was +to his own. in the cinders before the hearth were huddled three +dogs and five cats, all fast asleep, while the rats were running +about the floor. Curdie's heart ached to think of the lovely +child-princess living over such a sty. The mine was a paradise to +a palace with such servants in it. + +Leaving the kitchen, he got into the region of the sculleries. +There horrible smells were wandering about, like evil spirits that +come forth with the darkness. He lighted a candle - but only to +see ugly sights. Everywhere was filth and disorder. Mangy +turnspit dogs were lying about, and grey rats were gnawing at +refuse in the sinks. It was like a hideous dream. He felt as if +he should never get out of it, and longed for one glimpse of his +mother's poor little kitchen, so clean and bright and airy. +Turning from it at last in miserable disgust, he almost ran back +through the kitchen, re-entered the hall, and crossed it to another +door. + +It opened upon a wider passage leading to an arch in a stately +corridor, all its length lighted by lamps in niches. At the end of +it was a large and beautiful hall, with great pillars. There sat +three men in the royal livery, fast asleep, each in a great +armchair, with his feet on a huge footstool. They looked like +fools dreaming themselves kings; and Lina looked as if she longed +to throttle them. At one side of the hall was the grand staircase, +and they went up. +Everything that now met Curdie's eyes was rich - not glorious like +the splendours of the mountain cavern, but rich and soft - except +where, now and then, some rough old rib of the ancient fortress +came through, hard and discoloured. Now some dark bare arch of +stone, now some rugged and blackened pillar, now some huge beam, +brown with the smoke and dust of centuries, looked like a thistle +in the midst of daisies, or a rock in a smooth lawn. + +They wandered about a good while, again and again finding +themselves where they had been before. Gradually, however, Curdie +was gaining some idea of the place. By and by Lina began to look +frightened, and as they went on Curdie saw that she looked more and +more frightened. Now, by this time he had come to understand that +what made her look frightened was always the fear of frightening, +and he therefore concluded they must be drawing nigh to somebody. + +At last, in a gorgeously painted gallery, he saw a curtain of +crimson, and on the curtain a royal crown wrought in silks and +stones. He felt sure this must be the king's chamber, and it was +here he was wanted; or, if it was not the place he was bound for, +something would meet him and turn him aside; for he had come to +think that so long as a man wants to do right he may go where he +can: when he can go no farther, then it is not the way. 'Only,' +said his father, in assenting to the theory, 'he must really want +to do right, and not merely fancy he does. He must want it with +his heart and will, and not with his rag of a tongue.' +So he gently lifted the corner of the curtain, and there behind it +was a half-open door. He entered, and the moment he was in, Lina +stretched herself along the threshold between the curtain and the +door. + + + +CHAPTER 19 +The King's Chamber + + +He found himself in a large room, dimly lighted by a silver lamp +that hung from the ceiling. Far at the other end was a great bed, +surrounded with dark heavy curtains. He went softly toward it, his +heart beating fast. It was a dreadful thing to be alone in the +king's chamber at the dead of night. To gain courage he had to +remind himself of the beautiful princess who had sent him. + +But when he was about halfway to the bed, a figure appeared from +the farther side of it, and came towards him, with a hand raised +warningly. He stood still. The light was dim, and he could +distinguish little more than the outline of a young girl. But +though the form he saw was much taller than the princess he +remembered, he never doubted it was she. For one thing, he knew +that most girls would have been frightened to see him there in the +dead of the night, but like a true princess, and the princess he +used to know, she walked straight on to meet him. As she came she +lowered the hand she had lifted, and laid the forefinger of it upon +her lips. Nearer and nearer, quite near, close up to him she came, +then stopped, and stood a moment looking at him. + +'You are Curdie,' she said. + +'And you are the Princess Irene,' he returned. + +'Then we know each other still,' she said, with a sad smile of +pleasure. 'You will help me.' + +'That I will,' answered Curdie. He did not say, 'If I can'; + +for he knew that what he was sent to do, that he could do. 'May I +kiss your hand, little Princess?' + +She was only between nine and ten, though indeed she looked several +years older, and her eyes almost those of a grown woman, for she +had had terrible trouble of late. + +She held out her hand. + +'I am not the little princess any more. I have grown up since I +saw you last, Mr Miner.' + +The smile which accompanied the words had in it a strange mixture +of playfulness and sadness. +'So I see, Miss Princess,' returned Curdie; 'and therefore, being +more of a princess, you are the more my princess. Here I am, sent +by your great-great-grandmother, to be your servant. May I ask why +you are up so late, Princess?' + +'Because my father wakes so frightened, and I don't know what he +would do if he didn't find me by his bedside. There! he's waking +now.' + +She darted off to the side of the bed she had come from. + +Curdie stood where he was. + +A voice altogether unlike what he remembered of the mighty, noble +king on his white horse came from the bed, thin, feeble, hollow, +and husky, and in tone like that of a petulant child: + +'I will not, I will not. I am a king, and I will be a king. I +hate you and despise you, and you shall not torture me!' + +'Never mind them, Father dear,' said the princess. 'I am here, and +they shan't touch you. They dare not, you know, so long as you +defy them.' + +'They want my crown, darling; and I can't give them my crown, can +I? For what is a king without his crown?' +'They shall never have your crown, my king,' said Irene. 'Here it +is - all safe. I am watching it for you.' + +Curdie drew near the bed on the other side. There lay the grand +old king - he looked grand still, and twenty years older. His body +was pillowed high; his beard descended long and white over the +crimson coverlid; and his crown, its diamonds and emeralds gleaming +in the twilight of the curtains, lay in front of him, his long thin +old hands folded round it, and the ends of his beard straying among +the lovely stones. His face was like that of a man who had died +fighting nobly; but one thing made it dreadful: his eyes, while +they moved about as if searching in this direction and in that, +looked more dead than his face. He saw neither his daughter nor +his crown: it was the voice of the one and the touch of the other +that comforted him. He kept murmuring what seemed words, but was +unintelligible to Curdie, although, to judge from the look of +Irene's face, she learned and concluded from it. + +By degrees his voice sank away and the murmuring ceased, although +still his lips moved. Thus lay the old king on his bed, slumbering +with his crown between his hands; on one side of him stood a lovely +little maiden, with blue eyes, and brown hair going a little back +from her temples, as if blown by a wind that no one felt but +herself; and on the other a stalwart young miner, with his mattock +over his shoulder. Stranger sight still was Lina lying along the +threshold - only nobody saw her just then. + +A moment more and the king's lips ceased to move. His breathing +had grown regular and quiet. The princess gave a sigh of relief, +and came round to Curdie. + +'We can talk a little now,' she said, leading him toward the middle +of the room. 'My father will sleep now till the doctor wakes him +to give him his medicine. It is not really medicine, though, but +wine. Nothing but that, the doctor says, could have kept him so +long alive. He always comes in the middle of the night to give it +him with his own hands. But it makes me cry to see him wake up +when so nicely asleep.' + +'What sort of man is your doctor?' asked Curdie. + +'Oh, such a dear, good, kind gentleman!' replied the princess. 'He +speaks so softly, and is so sorry for his dear king! He will be +here presently, and you shall see for yourself. You will like him +very much.' + +'Has your king-father been long ill?' asked Curdie. + +'A whole year now,' she replied. 'Did you not know? That's how +your mother never got the red petticoat my father promised her. +The lord chancellor told me that not only Gwyntystorm but the whole +land was mourning over the illness of the good man.' + +Now Curdie himself had not heard a word of His Majesty's illness, +and had no ground for believing that a single soul in any place he +had visited on his journey had heard of it. Moreover, although +mention had been made of His Majesty again and again in his hearing +since he came to Gwyntystorm, never once had he heard an allusion +to the state of his health. And now it dawned upon him also that +he had never heard the least expression of love to him. But just +for the time he thought it better to say nothing on either point. + +'Does the king wander like this every night?' he asked. + +'Every night,' answered Irene, shaking her head mournfully. 'That +is why I never go to bed at night. He is better during the day - +a little, and then I sleep - in the dressing room there, to be with +him in a moment if he should call me. It is so sad he should have +only me and not my mamma! A princess is nothing to a queen!' + +'I wish he would like me,' said Curdie, 'for then I might watch by +him at night, and let you go to bed, Princess.' + +'Don't you know then?' returned Irene, in wonder. 'How was it you +came? Ah! You said my grandmother sent you. But I thought you +knew that he wanted you.' + +And again she opened wide her blue stars. + +'Not I,' said Curdie, also bewildered, but very glad. + +'He used to be constantly saying - he was not so ill then as he is +now - that he wished he had you about him.' + +'And I never to know it!' said Curdie, with displeasure. + +'The master of the horse told papa's own secretary that he had +written to the miner-general to find you and send you up; but the +miner-general wrote back to the master of the horse, and he told +the secretary, and the secretary told my father, that they had +searched every mine in the kingdom and could hear nothing of you. +My father gave a great sigh, and said he feared the goblins had got +you, after all, and your father and mother were dead of grief. And +he has never mentioned you since, except when wandering. I cried +very much. But one of my grandmother's pigeons with its white wing +flashed a message to me through the window one day, and then I knew +that my Curdie wasn't eaten by the goblins, for my grandmother +wouldn't have taken care of him one time to let him be eaten the +next. Where were you, Curdie, that they couldn't find you?' + +'We will talk about that another time, when we are not expecting +the doctor,' said Curdie. + +As he spoke, his eyes fell upon something shining on the table +under the lamp. His heart gave a great throb, and he went nearer. +Yes, there could be no doubt - it was the same flagon that the +butler had filled in the wine cellar. + +'It looks worse and worse!'he said to himself, and went back to +Irene, where she stood half dreaming. + +'When will the doctor be here?' he asked once more - this time +hurriedly. + +The question was answered - not by the princess, but by something +which that instant tumbled heavily into the room. Curdie flew +toward it in vague terror about Lina. + +On the floor lay a little round man, puffing and blowing, and +uttering incoherent language. Curdie thought of his mattock, and +ran and laid it aside. + +'Oh, dear Dr Kelman!' cried the princess, running up and taking +hold of his arm; 'I am so sorry!' She pulled and pulled, but might +almost as well have tried to set up a cannon ball. 'I hope you +have not hurt yourself?' + +'Not at all, not at all,' said the doctor, trying to smile and to +rise both at once, but finding it impossible to do either. + +'if he slept on the floor he would be late for breakfast,' said +Curdie to himself, and held out his hand to help him. + +But when he took hold of it, Curdie very nearly let him fall again, +for what he held was not even a foot: it was the belly of a +creeping thing. He managed, however, to hold both his peace and +his grasp, and pulled the doctor roughly on his legs - such as they +were. + +'Your Royal Highness has rather a thick mat at the door,' said the +doctor, patting his palms together. 'I hope my awkwardness may not +have startled His Majesty.' + +While he talked Curdie went to the door: Lina was not there. + +The doctor approached the bed. + +'And how has my beloved king slept tonight?' he asked. + +'No better,' answered Irene, with a mournful shake of her head. + +'Ah, that is very well!' returned the doctor, his fall seeming to +have muddled either his words or his meaning. 'When we give him +his wine, he will be better still.' + +Curdie darted at the flagon, and lifted it high, as if he had +expected to find it full, but had found it empty. + +'That stupid butler! I heard them say he was drunk!' he cried in +a loud whisper, and was gliding from the room. + +'Come here with that flagon, you! Page!' cried the doctor. +Curdie came a few steps toward him with the flagon dangling from +his hand, heedless of the gushes that fell noiseless on the thick +carpet. + +'Are you aware, young man,' said the doctor, 'that it is not every +wine can do His Majesty the benefit I intend he should derive from +my prescription?' + +'Quite aware, sir, answered Curdie. 'The wine for His Majesty's +use is in the third cask from the corner.' + +'Fly, then,' said the doctor, looking satisfied. + +Curdie stopped outside the curtain and blew an audible breath - no +more; up came Lina noiseless as a shadow. He showed her the +flagon. + +'The cellar, Lina: go,' he said. + +She galloped away on her soft feet, and Curdie had indeed to fly to +keep up with her. Not once did she make even a dubious turn. From +the king's gorgeous chamber to the cold cellar they shot. Curdie +dashed the wine down the back stair, rinsed the flagon out as he +had seen the butler do, filled it from the cask of which he had +seen the butler drink, and hastened with it up again to the king's +room. + +The little doctor took it, poured out a full glass, smelt, but did +not taste it, and set it down. Then he leaned over the bed, +shouted in the king's ear, blew upon his eyes, and pinched his arm: +Curdie thought he saw him run something bright into it. At last +the king half woke. The doctor seized the glass, raised his head, +poured the wine down his throat, and let his head fall back on the +pillow again. Tenderly wiping his beard, and bidding the princess +good night in paternal tones, he then took his leave. Curdie would +gladly have driven his pick into his head, but that was not in his +commission, and he let him go. The little round man looked very +carefully to his feet as he crossed the threshold. + +'That attentive fellow of a page has removed the mat,' he said to +himself, as he walked along the corridor. 'I must remember him.' + + + +CHAPTER 20 +Counterplotting + + +Curdie was already sufficiently enlightened as to how things were +going, to see that he must have the princess of one mind with him, +and they must work together. It was clear that among those about +the king there was a plot against him: for one thing, they had +agreed in a lie concerning himself; and it was plain also that the +doctor was working out a design against the health and reason of +His Majesty, rendering the question of his life a matter of little +moment. It was in itself sufficient to justify the worst fears, +that the people outside the palace were ignorant of His Majesty's +condition: he believed those inside it also - the butler excepted +- were ignorant of it as well. Doubtless His Majesty's councillors +desired to alienate the hearts of his subjects from their +sovereign. Curdie's idea was that they intended to kill the king, +marry the princess to one of themselves, and found a new dynasty; +but whatever their purpose, there was treason in the palace of the +worst sort: they were making and keeping the king incapable, in +order to effect that purpose- The first thing to be seen to, +therefore, was that His Majesty should neither eat morsel nor drink +drop of anything prepared for him in the palace. Could this have +been managed without the princess, Curdie would have preferred +leaving her in ignorance of the horrors from which he sought to +deliver her. He feared also the danger of her knowledge betraying +itself to the evil eyes about her; but it must be risked and she +had always been a wise child. + +Another thing was clear to him - that with such traitors no terms +of honour were either binding or possible, and that, short of +lying, he might use any means to foil them. And he could not doubt +that the old princess had sent him expressly to frustrate their +plans. + +While he stood thinking thus with himself, the princess was +earnestly watching the king, with looks of childish love and +womanly tenderness that went to Curdie's heart. Now and then with +a great fan of peacock feathers she would fan him very softly; now +and then, seeing a cloud begin to gather upon the sky of his +sleeping face, she would climb upon the bed, and bending to his ear +whisper into it, then draw back and watch again - generally to see +the cloud disperse. in his deepest slumber, the soul of the king +lay open to the voice of his child, and that voice had power either +to change the aspect of his visions, or, which was better still, to +breathe hope into his heart, and courage to endure them. + +Curdie came near, and softly called her. + +'I can't leave Papa just yet,' she returned, in a low voice. + +'I will wait,' said Curdie; 'but I want very much to say +something.' + +In a few minutes she came to him where he stood under the lamp. + +'Well, Curdie, what is it?' she said. + +'Princess,' he replied, 'I want to tell you that I have found why +your grandmother sent me.' + +'Come this way, then, she answered, 'where I can see the face of my +king.' + +Curdie placed a chair for her in the spot she chose, where she +would be near enough to mark any slightest change on her father's +countenance, yet where their low-voiced talk would not disturb him. +There he sat down beside her and told her all the story - how her +grandmother had sent her good pigeon for him, and how she had +instructed him, and sent him there without telling him what he had +to do. Then he told her what he had discovered of the state of +things generally in Gwyntystorm, and especially what he had heard +and seen in the palace that night. + +'Things are in a bad state enough,' he said in conclusion - 'lying +and selfishness and inhospitality and dishonesty everywhere; and to +crown all, they speak with disrespect of the good king, and not a +man knows he is ill.' + +'You frighten me dreadfully,' said Irene, trembling. + +'You must be brave for your king's sake,' said Curdie. + +'Indeed I will,' she replied, and turned a long loving look upon +the beautiful face of her father. 'But what is to be done? And +how am I to believe such horrible things of Dr Kelman?' + +'my dear Princess,' replied Curdie, 'you know nothing of him but +his face and his tongue, and they are both false. Either you must +beware of him, or you must doubt your grandmother and me; for I +tell you, by the gift she gave me of testing hands, that this man +is a snake. That round body he shows is but the case of a serpent. +Perhaps the creature lies there, as in its nest, coiled round and +round inside.' + +'Horrible!' said Irene. + +'Horrible indeed; but we must not try to get rid of horrible things +by refusing to look at them, and saying they are not there. Is not +your beautiful father sleeping better since he had the wine?' + +'Yes.' + +'Does he always sleep better after having it?' + +She reflected an instant. + +'No; always worse - till tonight,' she answered. + +'Then remember that was the wine I got him - not what the butler +drew. Nothing that passes through any hand in the house except +yours or mine must henceforth, till he is well, reach His Majesty's +lips.' + +'But how, dear Curdie?' said the princess, almost crying. + +'That we must contrive,' answered Curdie. 'I know how to take care +of the wine; but for his food - now we must think.' +'He takes hardly any,' said the princess, with a pathetic shake of +her little head which Curdie had almost learned to look for. + +'The more need,' he replied, 'there should be no poison in it.' +Irene shuddered. 'As soon as he has honest food he will begin to +grow better. And you must be just as careful with yourself, +Princess,' Curdie went on, 'for you don't know when they may begin +to poison you, too.' + +'There's no fear of me; don't talk about me,' said Irene. 'The +good food! How are we to get it, Curdie? That is the whole +question.' + +'I am thinking hard,' answered Curdie. 'The good food? Let me see +- let me see! Such servants as I saw below are sure to have the +best of everything for themselves: I will go an see what I can find +on their table.' + +'The chancellor sleeps in the house, and he and the master of the +king's horse always have their supper together in a room off the +great hall, to the right as you go down the stairs,' said Irene. +'I would go with you, but I dare not leave my father. Alas! He +scarcely ever takes more than a mouthful. I can't think how he +lives! And the very thing he would like, and often asks for - a +bit of bread - I can hardly ever get for him: Dr Kelman has +forbidden it, and says it is nothing less than poison to him.' + +'Bread at least he shall have,' said Curdie; 'and that, with the +honest wine, will do as well as anything, I do believe. I will go +at once and look for some. But I want you to see Lina first, and +know her, lest, coming upon her by accident at any time, you should +be frightened.' + +'I should like much to see her,' said the princess. + +Warning her not to be startled by her ugliness, he went to the door +and called her. + +She entered, creeping with downcast head, and dragging her tail +over the floor behind her. Curdie watched the princess as the +frightful creature came nearer and nearer. One shudder went from +head to foot, and next instant she stepped to meet her. Lina +dropped flat on the floor, and covered her face with her two big +paws. It went to the heart of the princess: in a moment she was on +her knees beside her, stroking her ugly head, and patting her all +over. + +'Good dog! Dear ugly dog!' she said. + +Lina whimpered. + +'I believe,' said Curdie, 'from what your grandmother told me, that +Lina is a woman, and that she was naughty, but is now growing +good.' +Lina had lifted her head while Irene was caressing her; now she +dropped it again between her paws; but the princess took it in her +hands, and kissed the forehead betwixt the gold-green eyes. + +'Shall I take her with me or leave her?' asked Curdie. + +'Leave her, poor dear,' said Irene, and Curdie, knowing the way +now, went without her. + +He took his way first to the room the princess had spoken of, and +there also were the remains of supper; but neither there nor in the +kitchen could he find a scrap of plain wholesome-looking bread. So +he returned and told her that as soon as it was light he would go +into the city for some, and asked her for a handkerchief to tie it +in. If he could not bring it himself, he would send it by Lina, +who could keep out of sight better than he, and as soon as all was +quiet at night he would come to her again. He also asked her to +tell the king that he was in the house. His hope lay in the fact +that bakers everywhere go to work early. But it was yet much too +early. So he persuaded the princess to lie down, promising to call +her if the king should stir. + + + +CHAPTER 21 +The Loaf + + +His Majesty slept very quietly. The dawn had grown almost day, and +still Curdie lingered, unwilling to disturb the princess. + +At last, however, he called her, and she was in the room in a +moment. She had slept, she said, and felt quite fresh. Delighted +to find her father still asleep, and so peacefully, she pushed her +chair close to the bed, and sat down with her hands in her lap. + +Curdie got his mattock from where he had hidden it behind a great +mirror, and went to the cellar, followed by Lina. They took some +breakfast with them as they passed through the hall, and as soon as +they had eaten it went out the back way. + +At the mouth of the passage Curdie seized the rope, drew himself +up, pushed away the shutter, and entered the dungeon. Then he +swung the end of the rope to Lina, and she caught it in her teeth. +When her master said, 'Now, Lina!' she gave a great spring, and he +ran away with the end of the rope as fast as ever he could. And +such a spring had she made, that by the time he had to bear her +weight she was within a few feet of the hole. The instant she got +a paw through, she was all through. + +Apparently their enemies were waiting till hunger should have cowed +them, for there was no sign of any attempt having been made to open +the door. A blow or two of Curdie's mattock drove the shattered +lock clean from it, and telling Lina to wait there till he came +back, and let no one in, he walked out into the silent street, and +drew the door to behind them. He could hardly believe it was not +yet a whole day since he had been thrown in there with his hands +tied at his back. + +Down the town he went, walking in the middle of the street, that, +if any one saw him, he might see he was not afraid, and hesitate to +rouse an attack on him. As to the dogs, ever since the death of +their two companions, a shadow that looked like a mattock was +enough to make them scamper. As soon as he reached the archway of +the city gate he turned to reconnoitre the baker's shop, and +perceiving no sign of movement, waited there watching for the +first. + +After about an hour, the door opened, and the baker's man appeared +with a pail in his hand. He went to a pump that stood in the +street, and having filled his pail returned with it into the shop. +Curdie stole after him, found the door on the latch, opened it very +gently, peeped in, saw nobody, and entered. Remembering perfectly +from what shelf the baker's wife had taken the loaf she said was +the best, and seeing just one upon it, he seized it, laid the price +of it on the counter, and sped softly out, and up the street. Once +more in the dungeon beside Lina, his first thought was to fasten up +the door again, which would have been easy, so many iron fragments +of all sorts and sizes lay about; but he bethought himself that if +he left it as it was, and they came to find him, they would +conclude at once that they had made their escape by it, and would +look no farther so as to discover the hole. He therefore merely +pushed the door close and left it. Then once more carefully +arranging the earth behind the shutter, so that it should again +fall with it, he returned to the cellar. + +And now he had to convey the loaf to the princess. If he could +venture to take it himself, well; if not, he would send Lina. He +crept to the door of the servants' hall, and found the sleepers +beginning to stir. One said it was time to go to bed; another, +that he would go to the cellar instead, and have a mug of wine to +waken him up; while a third challenged a fourth to give him his +revenge at some game or other. + +'Oh, hang your losses!' answered his companion; 'you'll soon pick +up twice as much about the house, if you but keep your eyes open.' + +Perceiving there would be risk in attempting to pass through, and +reflecting that the porters in the great hall would probably be +awake also, Curdie went back to the cellar, took Irene's +handkerchief with the loaf in it, tied it round Lina's neck, and +told her to take it to the princess. + +Using every shadow and every shelter, Lina slid through the +servants like a shapeless terror through a guilty mind, and so, by +corridor and great hall, up the stair to the king's chamber. + +Irene trembled a little when she saw her glide soundless in across +the silent dusk of the morning, that filtered through the heavy +drapery of the windows, but she recovered herself at once when she +saw the bundle about her neck, for it both assured her of Curdie's +safety, and gave her hope of her father's. She untied it with joy, +and Lina stole away, silent as she had come. Her joy was the +greater that the king had waked up a little before, and expressed +a desire for food - not that he felt exactly hungry, he said, and +yet he wanted something. If only he might have a piece of nice +fresh bread! Irene had no knife, but with eager hands she broke a +great piece from the loaf, and poured out a full glass of wine. +The king ate and drank, enjoyed the bread and the wine much, and +instantly fell asleep again. + +It was hours before the lazy people brought their breakfast. When +it came, Irene crumbled a little about, threw some into the +fireplace, and managed to make the tray look just as usual. + +in the meantime, down below in the cellar, Curdie was lying in the +hollow between the upper sides of two of the great casks, the +warmest place he could find. Lina was watching. She lay at his +feet, across the two casks, and did her best so to arrange her huge +tail that it should be a warm coverlid for her master. + +By and by Dr Kelman called to see his patient; and now that Irene's +eyes were opened, she saw clearly enough that he was both annoyed +and puzzled at finding His Majesty rather better. He pretended +however to congratulate him, saying he believed he was quite fit to +see the lord chamberlain: he wanted his signature to something +important; only he must not strain his mind to understand it, +whatever it might be: if His Majesty did, he would not be +answerable for the consequences. The king said he would see the +lord chamberlain, and the doctor went. + +Then Irene gave him more bread and wine, and the king ate and +drank, and smiled a feeble smile, the first real one she had seen +for many a day. He said he felt much better, and would soon be +able to take matters into his own hands again. He had a strange +miserable feeling, he said, that things were going terribly wrong, +although he could not tell how. Then the princess told him that +Curdie had come, and that at night, when all was quiet for nobody +in the palace must know, he would pay His Majesty a visit. Her +great-great-grandmother had sent him, she said. The king looked +strangely upon her, but the strange look passed into a smile +clearer than the first, and irene's heart throbbed with delight. + + + +CHAPTER 22 +The Lord Chamberlain + + +At noon the lord chamberlain appeared. With a long, low bow, and +paper in hand, he stepped softly into the room. Greeting His +Majesty with every appearance of the profoundest respect, and +congratulating him on the evident progress he had made, he declared +himself sorry to trouble him, but there were certain papers, he +said, which required his signature - and therewith drew nearer to +the king, who lay looking at him doubtfully. He was a lean, long, +yellow man, with a small head, bald over the top, and tufted at the +back and about the ears. He had a very thin, prominent, hooked +nose, and a quantity of loose skin under his chin and about the +throat, which came craning up out of his neckcloth. His eyes were +very small, sharp, and glittering, and looked black as jet. He had +hardly enough of a mouth to make a smile with. His left hand held +the paper, and the long, skinny fingers of his right a pen just +dipped in ink. + +But the king, who for weeks had scarcely known what he did, was +today so much himself as to be aware that he was not quite himself; +and the moment he saw the paper, he resolved that he would not sign +without understanding and approving of it. He requested the lord +chamberlain therefore to read it. His Lordship commenced at once +but the difficulties he seemed to encounter, and the fits of +stammering that seized him, roused the king's suspicion tenfold. +He called the princess. + +'I trouble His Lordship too much,' he said to her: 'you can read +print well, my child - let me hear how you can read writing. Take +that paper from His Lordship's hand, and read it to me from +beginning to end, while my lord drinks a glass of my favourite +wine, and watches for your blunders.' + +'Pardon me, Your Majesty,' said the lord chamberlain, with as much +of a smile as he was able to extemporize, 'but it were a thousand +pities to put the attainments of Her Royal Highness to a test +altogether too severe. Your Majesty can scarcely with justice +expect the very organs of her speech to prove capable of compassing +words so long, and to her so unintelligible.' + +'I think much of my little princess and her capabilities,' returned +the king, more and more aroused. 'Pray, my lord, permit her to +try.' + +'Consider, Your Majesty: the thing would be altogether without +precedent. it would be to make sport of statecraft,' said the lord +chamberlain. + +'Perhaps you are right, my lord,' answered the king, with more +meaning than he intended should be manifest, while to his growing +joy he felt new life and power throbbing in heart and brain. 'So +this morning we shall read no further. I am indeed ill able for +business of such weight.' + +'Will Your Majesty please sign your royal name here?' said the lord +chamberlain, preferring the request as a matter of course, and +approaching with the feather end of the pen pointed to a spot where +there was a great red seal. + +'Not today, my lord,' replied the king. + +'It is of the greatest importance, Your Majesty,' softly insisted +the other. + +'I descried no such importance in it,' said the king. + +'Your Majesty heard but a part.' + +'And I can hear no more today.' + +'I trust Your Majesty has ground enough, in a case of necessity +like the present, to sign upon the representation of his loyal +subject and chamberlain? Or shall I call the lord chancellor?' he +added, rising. + +'There is no need. I have the very highest opinion of your +judgement, my lord,' answered the king; 'that is, with respect to +means: we might differ as to ends.' + +The lord chamberlain made yet further attempts at persuasion; but +they grew feebler and feebler, and he was at last compelled to +retire without having gained his object. And well might his +annoyance be keen! For that paper was the king's will, drawn up by +the attorney-general; nor until they had the king's signature to it +was there much use in venturing farther. But his worst sense of +discomfiture arose from finding the king with so much capacity +left, for the doctor had pledged himself so to weaken his brain +that he should be as a child in their hands, incapable of refusing +anything requested of him: His Lordship began to doubt the doctor's +fidelity to the conspiracy. + +The princess was in high delight. She had not for weeks heard so +many words, not to say words of such strength and reason, from her +father's lips: day by day he had been growIng weaker and more +lethargic. He was so much exhausted, however, after this effort, +that he asked for another piece of bread and more wine, and fell +fast asleep the moment he had taken them. + +The lord chamberlain sent in a rage for Dr Kelman. He came, and +while professing himself unable to understand the symptoms +described by His Lordship, yet pledged himself again that on the +morrow the king should do whatever was required of him. + +The day went on. When His Majesty was awake, the princess read to +him - one storybook after another; and whatever she read, the king +listened as if he had never heard anything so good before, making +out in it the wisest meanings. Every now and then he asked for a +piece of bread and a little wine, and every time he ate and drank +he slept, and every time he woke he seemed better than the last +time. The princess bearing her part, the loaf was eaten up and the +flagon emptied before night. The butler took the flagon away, and +brought it back filled to the brim, but both were thirsty and +hungry when Curdie came again. +Meantime he and Lina, watching and waking alternately, had plenty +of sleep. In the afternoon, peeping from the recess, they saw +several of the servants enter hurriedly, one after the other, draw +wine, drink it, and steal out; but their business was to take care +of the king, not of his cellar, and they let them drink. Also, +when the butler came to fill the flagon, they restrained +themselves, for the villain's fate was not yet ready for him. He +looked terribly frightened, and had brought with him a large candle +and a small terrier - which latter indeed threatened to be +troublesome, for he went roving and sniffing about until he came to +the recess where they were. But as soon as he showed himself, Lina +opened her jaws so wide, and glared at him so horribly, that, +without even uttering a whimper, he tucked his tail between his +legs and ran to his master. He was drawing the wicked wine at the +moment, and did not see him, else he would doubtless have run too. + +When suppertime approached, Curdie took his place at the door into +the servants' hall; but after a long hour's vain watch, he began to +fear he should get nothing: there was so much idling about, as well +as coming and going. it was hard to bear - chiefly from the +attractions of a splendid loaf, just fresh out of the oven, which +he longed to secure for the king and princess. At length his +chance did arrive: he pounced upon the loaf and carried it away, +and soon after got hold of a pie. + +This time, however, both loaf and pie were missed. The cook was +called. He declared he had provided both. One of themselves, he +said, must have carried them away for some friend outside the +palace. Then a housemaid, who had not long been one of them, said +she had seen someone like a page running in the direction of the +cellar with something in his hands. Instantly all turned upon the +pages, accusing them, one after another. All denied, but nobody +believed one of them: Where there is no truth there can be no +faith. + +To the cellar they all set out to look for the missing pie and +loaf. Lina heard them coming, as well she might, for they were +talking and quarrelling loud, and gave her master warning. They +snatched up everything, and got all signs of their presence out at +the back door before the servants entered. When they found +nothing, they all turned on the chambermaid, and accused her, not +only of lying against the pages, but of having taken the things +herself. Their language and behaviour so disgusted Curdie, who +could hear a great part of what passed, and he saw the danger of +discovery now so much increased, that he began to devise how best +at once to rid the palace of the whole pack of them. That, +however, would be small gain so long as the treacherous officers of +state continued in it. They must be first dealt with. A thought +came to him, and the longer he looked at it the better he liked it. + +As soon as the servants were gone, quarrelling and accusing all the +way, they returned and finished their supper. Then Curdie, who had +long been satisfied that Lina understood almost every word he said, +communicated his plan to her, and knew by the wagging of her tail +and the flashing of her eyes that she comprehended it. Until they +had the king safe through the worst part of the night, however, +nothing could be done. + +They had now merely to go on waiting where they were till the +household should be asleep. This waiting and waiting was much the +hardest thing Curdie had to do in the whole affair. He took his +mattock and, going again into the long passage, lighted a candle +end and proceeded to examine the rock on all sides. But this was +not merely to pass the time: he had a reason for it. When he broke +the stone in the street, over which the baker fell, its appearance +led him to pocket a fragment for further examination; and since +then he had satisfied himself that it was the kind of stone in +which gold is found, and that the yellow particles in it were pure +metal. If such stone existed here in any plenty, he could soon +make the king rich and independent of his ill-conditioned subjects. +He was therefore now bent on an examination of the rock; nor had he +been at it long before he was persuaded that there were large +quantities of gold in the half-crystalline white stone, with its +veins of opaque white and of green, of which the rock, so far as he +had been able to inspect it, seemed almost entirely to consist. +Every piece he broke was spotted with particles and little lumps of +a lovely greenish yellow - and that was gold. Hitherto he had +worked only in silver, but he had read, and heard talk, and knew, +therefore, about gold. As soon as he had got the king free of +rogues and villains, he would have all the best and most honest +miners, with his father at the head of them, to work this rock for +the king. +It was a great delight to him to use his mattock once more. The +time went quickly, and when he left the passage to go to the king's +chamber, he had already a good heap of fragments behind the broken +door. + + + +CHAPTER 23 +Dr Kelman + + +As soon as he had reason to hope the way was clear, Curdie ventured +softly into the hall, with Lina behind him. There was no one +asleep on the bench or floor, but by the fading fire sat a girl +weeping. It was the same who had seen him carrying off the food, +and had been so hardly used for saying so. She opened her eyes +when he appeared, but did not seem frightened at him. + +'I know why you weep,' said Curdie, 'and I am sorry for you.' + +'It is hard not to be believed just because one speaks the truth,' +said the girl, 'but that seems reason enough with some people. My +mother taught me to speak the truth, and took such pains with me +that I should find it hard to tell a lie, though I could invent +many a story these servants would believe at once; for the truth is +a strange thing here, and they don't know it when they see it. +Show it them, and they all stare as if it were a wicked lie, and +that with the lie yet warm that has just left their own mouths! +You are a stranger,' she said, and burst out weeping afresh, 'but +the stranger you are to such a place and such people the better!' + +'I am the person,' said Curdie, whom you saw carrying the things +from the supper table.' He showed her the loaf. 'If you can +trust, as well as speak the truth, I will trust you. Can you trust +me?' + +She looked at him steadily for a moment. + +'I can,' she answered. + +'One thing more,' said Curdie: 'have you courage as well as truth?' + +'I think so.' + +'Look my dog in the face and don't cry out. Come here, Lina.' + +Lina obeyed. The girl looked at her, and laid her hand on Lina's +head. + +'Now I know you are a true woman,' said curdie. 'I am come to set +things right in this house. Not one of the servants knows I am +here. Will you tell them tomorrow morning that, if they do not +alter their ways, and give over drinking, and lying, and stealing, +and unkindness, they shall every one of them be driven from the +palace?' + +'They will not believe me.' + +'Most likely; but will you give them the chance?' + +'I will.' + +'Then I will be your friend. Wait here till I come again.' + +She looked him once more in the face, and sat down. + +When he reached the royal chamber, he found His Majesty awake, and +very anxiously expecting him. He received him with the utmost +kindness, and at once, as it were, put himself in his hands by +telling him all he knew concerning the state he was in. His voice +was feeble, but his eye was clear, although now and then his words +and thoughts seemed to wander. Curdie could not be certain that +the cause of their not being intelligible to him did not lie in +himself. The king told him that for some years, ever since his +queen's death, he had been losing heart over the wickedness of his +people. He had tried hard to make them good, but they got worse +and worse. Evil teachers, unknown to him, had crept into the +schools; there was a general decay of truth and right principle at +least in the city; and as that set the example to the nation, it +must spread. + +The main cause of his illness was the despondency with which the +degeneration of his people affected him. He could not sleep, and +had terrible dreams; while, to his unspeakable shame and distress, +he doubted almost everybody. He had striven against his suspicion, +but in vain, and his heart was sore, for his courtiers and +councillors were really kind; only he could not think why none of +their ladies came near his princess. The whole country was +discontented, he heard, and there were signs of gathering storm +outside as well as inside his borders. The master of the horse +gave him sad news of the insubordination of the army; and his great +white horse was dead, they told him; and his sword had lost its +temper: it bent double the last time he tried it! - only perhaps +that was in a dream; and they could not find his shield; and one of +his spurs had lost the rowel. + +Thus the poor king went wandering in a maze of sorrows, some of +which were purely imaginary, while others were truer than he +understood. He told how thieves came at night and tried to take +his crown, so that he never dared let it out of his hands even when +he slept; and how, every night, an evil demon in the shape of his +physician came and poured poison down his throat. He knew it to be +poison, he said, somehow, although it tasted like wine. + +Here he stopped, faint with the unusual exertion of talking. + +Curdie seized the flagon, and ran to the wine cellar. + +In the servants' hall the girl still sat by the fire, waiting for +him. As he returned he told her to follow him, and left her at the +chamber door until he should rejoin her. When the king had had a +little wine, he informed him that he had already discovered certain +of His Majesty's enemies, and one of the worst of them was the +doctor, for it was no other demon than the doctor himself who had +been coming every night, and giving him a slow poison. + +'So!' said the king. 'Then I have not been suspicious enough, for +I thought it was but a dream! Is it possible Kelman can be such a +wretch? Who then am I to trust?' + +'Not one in the house, except the princess and myself,' said +Curdie. + +'I will not go to sleep,' said the king. + +'That would be as bad as taking the poison,' said Curdie. 'No, no, +sire; you must show your confidence by leaving all the watching to +me, and doing all the sleeping Your Majesty can.' + +The king smiled a contented smile, turned on his side, and was +presently fast asleep. Then Curdie persuaded the princess also to +go to sleep, and telling Lina to watch, went to the housemaid. He +asked her if she could inform him which of the council slept in the +palace, and show him their rooms. She knew every one of them, she +said, and took him the round of all their doors, telling him which +slept in each room. He then dismissed her, and returning to the +king's chamber, seated himself behind a curtain at the head of the +bed, on the side farthest from the king. He told Lina to get under +the bed, and make no noise. + +About one o'clock the doctor came stealing in. He looked round for +the princess, and seeing no one, smiled with satisfaction as he +approached the wine where it stood under the lamp. Having partly +filled a glass, he took from his pocket a small phial, and filled +up the glass from it. The light fell upon his face from above, and +Curdie saw the snake in it plainly visible. He had never beheld +such an evil countenance: the man hated the king, and delighted in +doing him wrong. + +With the glass in his hand, he drew near the bed, set it down, and +began his usual rude rousing of His Majesty. Not at once +succeeding, he took a lancet from his pocket, and was parting its +cover with an involuntary hiss of hate between his closed teeth, +when Curdie stooped and whispered to Lina. + +'Take him by the leg, Lina.' She darted noiselessly upon him. +With a face of horrible consternation, he gave his leg one tug to +free it; the next instant Curdie heard the one scrunch with which +she crushed the bone like a stick of celery. He tumbled on the +floor with a yell. + +'Drag him out, Lina,' said Curdie. +Lina took him by the collar, and dragged him out. Her master +followed her to direct her, and they left the doctor lying across +the lord chamberlain's door, where he gave another horrible yell, +and fainted. + +The king had waked at his first cry, and by the time Curdie +re-entered he had got at his sword where it hung from the centre of +the tester, had drawn it, and was trying to get out of bed. But +when Curdie told him all was well, he lay down again as quietly as +a child comforted by his mother from a troubled dream. Curdie went +to the door to watch. + +The doctor's yells had aroused many, but not one had yet ventured +to appear. Bells were rung violently, but none were answered; and +in a minute or two Curdie had what he was watching for. The door +of the lord chamberlain's room opened, and, pale with hideous +terror, His Lordship peeped out. Seeing no one, he advanced to +step into the corridor, and tumbled over the doctor. Curdie ran +up, and held out his hand. He received in it the claw of a bird of +prey - vulture or + +eagle, he could not tell which. + +His Lordship, as soon as he was on his legs, taking him for one of +the pages abused him heartily for not coming sooner, and threatened +him with dismissal from the king's service for cowardice and +neglect. He began indeed what bade fair to be a sermon on the +duties of a page, but catching sight of the man who lay at his +door, and seeing it was the doctor, he fell upon Curdie afresh for +standing there doing nothing, and ordered him to fetch immediate +assistance. Curdie left him, but slipped into the King's chamber, +closed and locked the door, and left the rascals to look after each +other. Ere long he heard hurrying footsteps, and for a few minutes +there was a great muffled tumult of scuffling feet, low voices and +deep groanings; then all was still again. + +Irene slept through the whole - so confidently did she rest, +knowing Curdie was in her father's room watching over him. + + + +CHAPTER 24 +The Prophecy + + +Curdie sat and watched every motion of the sleeping king. All the +night, to his ear, the palace lay as quiet as a nursery of +healthful children. At sunrise he called the princess. + +'How has His Majesty slept?' were her first words as she entered +the room. + +'Quite quietly,' answered Curdie; 'that is, since the doctor was +got rid of.' +'How did you manage that?' inquired Irene; and Curdie had to tell +all about it. + +'How terrible!' she said. 'Did it not startle the king +dreadfully?' + +'it did rather. I found him getting out of bed, sword in hand.' + +'The brave old man!' cried the princess. + +'Not so old!' said Curdie, 'as you will soon see. He went off +again in a minute or so; but for a little while he was restless, +and once when he lifted his hand it came down on the spikes of his +crown, and he half waked.' + +'But where is the crown?' cried Irene, in sudden terror. + +'I stroked his hands,' answered Curdie, 'and took the crown from +them; and ever since he has slept quietly, and again and again +smiled in his sleep.' + +'I have never seen him do that,' said the princess. 'But what have +you done with the crown, Curdie?' +'Look,' said Curdie, moving away from the bedside. + +Irene followed him - and there, in the middle of the floor, she saw +a strange sight. Lina lay at full length, fast asleep, her tail +stretched out straight behind her and her forelegs before her: +between the two paws meeting in front of it, her nose just touching +it behind, glowed and flashed the crown, like a nest of the humming +birds of heaven. + +Irene gazed, and looked up with a smile. + +'But what if the thief were to come, and she not to wake?' she +said. 'Shall I try her?' And as she spoke she stooped toward the +crown. + +'No, no, no!' cried Curdie, terrified. 'She would frighten you out +of your wits. I would do it to show you, but she would wake your +father. You have no conception with what a roar she would spring +at my throat. But you shall see how lightly she wakes the moment +I speak to her. Lina!' + +She was on her feet the same instant, with her great tail sticking +out straight behind her, just as it had been lying. + +'Good dog!' said the princess, and patted her head. Lina wagged +her tail solemnly, like the boom of an anchored sloop. Irene took +the crown, and laid it where the king would see it when he woke. + +'Now, Princess,' said Curdie, 'I must leave you for a few minutes. +You must bolt the door, please, and not open it to any one.' + +Away to the cellar he went with Lina, taking care, as they passed +through the servants' hall, to get her a good breakfast. In about +one minute she had eaten what he gave her, and looked up in his +face: it was not more she wanted, but work. So out of the cellar +they went through the passage, and Curdie into the dungeon, where +he pulled up Lina, opened the door, let her out, and shut it again +behind her. As he reached the door of the king's chamber, Lina was +flying out of the gate of Gwyntystorm as fast as her mighty legs +could carry her. + +'What's come to the wench?' growled the menservants one to another, +when the chambermaid appeared among them the next morning. There +was something in her face which they could not understand, and did +not like. + +'Are we all dirt?' they said. 'What are you thinking about? Have +you seen yourself in the glass this morning, miss?' + +She made no answer. + +'Do you want to be treated as you deserve, or will you speak, you +hussy?' said the first woman-cook. 'I would fain know what right +you have to put on a face like that!' +'You won't believe me,' said the girl. + +'Of course not. What is it?' + +'I must tell you, whether you believe me or not,' she said. + +'of course you must.' + +'It is this, then: if you do not repent of your bad ways, you are +all going to be punished - all turned out of the palace together.' + +'A mighty punishment!' said the butler. 'A good riddance, say I, +of the trouble of keeping minxes like you in order! And why, pray, +should we be turned out? What have I to repent of now, your +holiness?' + +'That you know best yourself,' said the girl. + +'A pretty piece of insolence! How should I know, forsooth, what a +menial like you has got against me! There are people in this house +- oh! I'm not blind to their ways! - but every one for himself, say +I! Pray, Miss judgement, who gave you such an impertinent message +to His Majesty's household?' + +'One who is come to set things right in the king's house.' + +'Right, indeed!' cried the butler; but that moment the thought came +back to him of the roar he had heard in the cellar, and he turned +pale and was silent. + +The steward took it up next. +'And pray, pretty prophetess,' he said, attempting to chuck her +under the chin, 'what have I got to repent of?' + +'That you know best yourself,' said the girl. 'You have but to +look into your books or your heart.' + +'Can you tell me, then, what I have to repent of?' said the groom +of the chambers. 'That you know best yourself,' said the girl once +more. 'The person who told me to tell you said the servants of +this house had to repent of thieving, and lying, and unkindness, +and drinking; and they will be made to repent of them one way, if +they don't do it of themselves another.' + +Then arose a great hubbub; for by this time all the servants in the +house were gathered about her, and all talked together, in towering +indignation. + +'Thieving, indeed!' cried one. 'A pretty word in a house where +everything is left lying about in a shameless way, tempting poor +innocent girls! A house where nobody cares for anything, or has +the least respect to the value of property!' + +'I suppose you envy me this brooch of mine,' said another. 'There +was just a half sheet of note paper about it, not a scrap more, in +a drawer that's always open in the writing table in the study! +What sort of a place is that for a jewel? Can you call it stealing +to take a thing from such a place as that? Nobody cared a straw +about it. it might as well have been in the dust hole! If it had +been locked up - then, to be sure!' + +'Drinking!' said the chief porter, with a husky laugh. 'And who +wouldn't drink when he had a chance? Or who would repent it, +except that the drink was gone? Tell me that, Miss Innocence.' + +'Lying!' said a great, coarse footman. 'I suppose you mean when I +told you yesterday you were a pretty girl when you didn't pout? +Lying, indeed! Tell us something worth repenting of! Lying is the +way of Gwyntystorm. You should have heard Jabez lying to the cook +last night! He wanted a sweetbread for his pup, and pretended it +was for the princess! Ha! ha! ha!' + +'Unkindness! I wonder who's unkind! Going and listening to any +stranger against her fellow servants, and then bringing back his +wicked words to trouble them!' said the oldest and worst of the +housemaids. 'One of ourselves, too! Come, you hypocrite! This is +all an invention of yours and your young man's, to take your +revenge of us because we found you out in a lie last night. Tell +true now: wasn't it the same that stole the loaf and the pie that +sent you with the impudent message?' + +As she said this, she stepped up to the housemaid and gave her, +instead of time to answer, a box on the ear that almost threw her +down; and whoever could get at her began to push and bustle and +pinch and punch her. +'You invite your fate,' she said quietly. + +They fell furiously upon her, drove her from the hall with kicks +and blows, hustled her along the passage, and threw her down the +stair to the wine cellar, then locked the door at the top of it, +and went back to their breakfast. + +In the meantime the king and the princess had had their bread and +wine, and the princess, with Curdie's help, had made the room as +tidy as she could - they were terribly neglected by the servants. +And now Curdie set himself to interest and amuse the king, and +prevent him from thinking too much, in order that he might the +sooner think the better. Presently, at His Majesty's request, he +began from the beginning, and told everything he could recall of +his life, about his father and mother and their cottage on the +mountain, of the inside of the mountain and the work there, about +the goblins and his adventures with them. + +When he came to finding the princess and her nurse overtaken by the +twilight on the mountain, Irene took up her share of the tale, and +told all about herself to that point, and then Curdie took it up +again; and so they went on, each fitting in the part that the other +did not know, thus keeping the hoop of the story running straight; +and the king listened with wondering and delighted ears, astonished +to find what he could so ill comprehend, yet fitting so well +together from the lips of two narrators. + +At last, with the mission given him by the wonderful princess and +his consequent adventures, Curdie brought up the whole tale to the +present moment. Then a silence fell, and Irene and Curdie thought +the king was asleep. But he was far from it; he was thinking about +many things. After a long pause he said: + +'Now at last, MY children, I am compelled to believe many things I +could not and do not yet understand - things I used to hear, and +sometimes see, as often as I visited my mother's home. Once, for +instance, I heard my mother say to her father - speaking of me - +"He is a good, honest boy, but he will be an old man before he +understands"; and my grandfather answered, "Keep up your heart, +child: my mother will look after him." I thought often of their +words, and the many strange things besides I both heard and saw in +that house; but by degrees, because I could not understand them, I +gave up thinking of them. And indeed I had almost forgotten them, +when you, my child, talking that day about the Queen Irene and her +pigeons, and what you had seen in her garret, brought them all back +to my mind in a vague mass. But now they keep coming back to me, +one by one, every one for itself; and I shall just hold my peace, +and lie here quite still, and think about them all till I get well +again.' + +What he meant they could not quite understand, but they saw plainly +that already he was better. + +'Put away my crown,' he said. 'I am tired of seeing it, and have +no more any fear of its safety.' They put it away together, +withdrew from the bedside, and left him in peace. + + + +CHAPTER 25 +The Avengers + + +There was nothing now to be dreaded from Dr Kelman, but it made +Curdie anxious, as the evening drew near, to think that not a soul +belonging to the court had been to visit the king, or ask how he +did, that day. He feared, in some shape or other, a more +determined assault. He had provided himself a place in the room, +to which he might retreat upon approach, and whence he could watch; +but not once had he had to betake himself to it. + +Towards night the king fell asleep. Curdie thought more and more +uneasily of the moment when he must again leave them for a little +while. Deeper and deeper fell the shadows. No one came to light +the lamp. The princess drew her chair close to Curdie: she would +rather it were not so dark, she said. She was afraid of something +- she could not tell what; nor could she give any reason for her +fear but that all was so dreadfully still. + +When it had been dark about an hour, Curdie thought Lina might have +returned; and reflected that the sooner he went the less danger was +there of any assault while he was away. There was more risk of his +own presence being discovered, no doubt, but things were now +drawing to a crisis, and it must be run. So, telling the princess +to lock all the doors of the bedchamber, and let no one in, he took +his mattock, and with here a run, and there a halt under cover, +gained the door at the head of the cellar stair in safety. To his +surprise he found it locked, and the key was gone. There was no +time for deliberation. He felt where the lock was, and dealt it a +tremendous blow with his mattock. It needed but a second to dash +the door open. Someone laid a hand on his arm. + +'Who is it?' said Curdie. + +'I told you they wouldn't believe me, sir,' said the housemaid. 'I +have been here all day.' + +He took her hand, and said, 'You are a good, brave girl. Now come +with me, lest your enemies imprison you again.' + +He took her to the cellar, locked the door, lighted a bit of +candle, gave her a little wine, told her to wait there till he +came, and went out the back way. + +Swiftly he swung himself up into the dungeon. Lina had done her +part. The place was swarming with creatures - animal forms wilder +and more grotesque than ever ramped in nightmare dream. Close by +the hole, waiting his coming, her green eyes piercing the gulf +below, Lina had but just laid herself down when he appeared. All +about the vault and up the slope of the rubbish heap lay and stood +and squatted the forty-nine whose friendship Lina had conquered in +the wood. They all came crowding about Curdie. + +He must get them into the cellar as quickly as ever he could. But +when he looked at the size of some of them, he feared it would be +a long business to enlarge the hole sufficiently to let them +through. At it he rushed, hitting vigorously at the edge with his +mattock. At the very first blow came a splash from the water +beneath, but ere he could heave a third, a creature like a tapir, +only that the grasping point of its proboscis was hard as the steel +of Curdie's hammer, pushed him gently aside, making room for +another creature, with a head like a great club, which it began +banging upon the floor with terrible force and noise. After about +a minute of this battery, the tapir came up again, shoved Clubhead +aside, and putting its own head into the hole began gnawing at the +sides of it with the finger of its nose, in such a fashion that the +fragments fell in a continuous gravelly shower into the water. In +a few minutes the opening was large enough for the biggest creature +among them to get through it. +Next came the difficulty of letting them down: some were quite +light, but the half of them were too heavy for the rope, not to say +for his arms. The creatures themselves seemed to be puzzling where +or how they were to go. One after another of them came up, looked +down through the hole, and drew back. Curdie thought if he let +Lina down, perhaps that would suggest something; possibly they did +not see the opening on the other side. He did so, and Lina stood +lighting up the entrance of the passage with her gleaming eyes. + +One by one the creatures looked down again, and one by one they +drew back, each standing aside to glance at the next, as if to say, +Now you have a look. At last it came to the turn of the serpent +with the long body, the four short legs behind, and the little +wings before. No sooner had he poked his head through than he +poked it farther through - and farther, and farther yet, until +there was little more than his legs left in the dungeon. By that +time he had got his head and neck well into the passage beside +Lina. Then his legs gave a great waddle and spring, and he tumbled +himself, far as there was betwixt them, heels over head into the +passage. + +'That is all very well for you, Mr Legserpent!' thought Curdie to +himself; 'but what is to be done with the rest?' He had hardly +time to think it, however, before the creature's head appeared +again through the floor. He caught hold of the bar of iron to +which Curdie's rope was tied, and settling it securely across the +narrowest part of the irregular opening, held fast to it with his +teeth. It was plain to Curdie, from the universal hardness among +them, that they must all, at one time or another, have been +creatures of the mines. + +He saw at once what this one was after. The beast had planted his +feet firmly upon the floor of the passage, and stretched his long +body up and across the chasm to serve as a bridge for the rest. +Curdie mounted instantly upon his neck, threw his arms round him as +far as they would go, and slid down in ease and safety, the bridge +just bending a little as his weight glided over it. But he thought +some of the creatures would try the legserpent's teeth. + +one by one the oddities followed, and slid down in safety. When +they seemed to be all landed, he counted them: there were but +forty-eight. Up the rope again he went, and found one which had +been afraid to trust himself to the bridge, and no wonder! for he +had neither legs nor head nor arms nor tail: he was just a round +thing, about a foot in diameter, with a nose and mouth and eyes on +one side of the ball. He had made his journey by rolling as +swiftly as the fleetest of them could run. The back of the +legserpent not being flat, he could not quite trust himself to roll +straight and not drop into the gulf. Curdie took him in his arms, +and the moment he looked down through the hole, the bridge made +itself again, and he slid into the passage in safety, with Ballbody +in his bosom. + +He ran first to the cellar to warn the girl not to be frightened at +the avengers of wickedness. Then he called to Lina to bring in her +friends. + +One after another they came trooping in, till the cellar seemed +full of them. The housemaid regarded them without fear. + +'Sir,' she said, 'there is one of the pages I don't take to be a +bad fellow.' + +'Then keep him near you,' said Curdie. 'And now can you show me a +way to the king's chamber not through the servants' hall?' + +'There is a way through the chamber of the colonel of the guard,' +she answered, 'but he is ill, and in bed.' + +'Take me that way,' said Curdie. + +By many ups and downs and windings and turnings she brought him to +a dimly lighted room, where lay an elderly man asleep. His arm was +outside the coverlid, and Curdie gave his hand a hurried grasp as +he went by. His heart beat for joy, for he had found a good, +honest, human hand. + +'I suppose that is why he is ill,' he said to himself. + +It was now close upon suppertime, and when the girl stopped at the +door of the king's chamber, he told her to go and give the servants +one warning more. + +'Say the messenger sent you,' he said. 'I will be with you very +soon.' + +The king was still asleep. Curdie talked to the princess for a few +minutes, told her not to be frightened whatever noises she heard, +only to keep her door locked till he came, and left her. + + + +CHAPTER 26 +The Vengeance + + +By the time the girl reached the servants' hall they were seated at +supper. A loud, confused exclamation arose when she entered. No +one made room for her; all stared with unfriendly eyes. A page, +who entered the next minute by another door, came to her side. + +'Where do you come from, hussy?' shouted the butler, and knocked +his fist on the table with a loud clang. + +He had gone to fetch wine, had found the stair door broken open and +the cellar door locked, and had turned and fled. Among his +fellows, however, he had now regained what courage could be called +his. +'From the cellar,' she replied. 'The messenger broke open the +door, and sent me to you again.' + +'The messenger! Pooh! What messenger?' + +'The same who sent me before to tell you to repent.' + +'What! Will you go fooling it still? Haven't you had enough of +it?' cried the butler in a rage, and starting to his feet, drew +near threateningly. + +'I must do as I am told,' said the girl. + +'Then why don't you do as I tell you, and hold your tongue?' said +the butler. 'Who wants your preachments? If anybody here has +anything to repent Of, isn't that enough - and more than enough for +him - but you must come bothering about, and stirring up, till not +a drop of quiet will settle inside him? You come along with me, +young woman; we'll see if we can't find a lock somewhere in the +house that'll hold you in!' + +'Hands off, Mr Butler!' said the page, and stepped between. + +'Oh, ho!' cried the butler, and pointed his fat finger at him. +'That's you, is it, my fine fellow? So it's you that's up to her +tricks, is it?' + +The youth did not answer, only stood with flashing eyes fixed on +him, until, growing angrier and angrier, but not daring a step +nearer, he burst out with a rude but quavering authority: + +'Leave the house, both of you! Be off, or I'll have Mr Steward to +talk to you. Threaten your masters, indeed! Out of the house with +you, and show us the way you tell us of!' + +Two or three of the footmen got up and ranged themselves behind the +butler. + +'Don't say I threaten you, Mr Butler,' expostulated the girl from +behind the page. 'The messenger said I was to tell you again, and +give you one chance more.' + +'Did the messenger mention me in particular?' asked the butler, +looking the page unsteadily in the face. + +'No, sir,' answered the girl. + +'I thought not! I should like to hear him!' + +'Then hear him now,' said Curdie, who that moment entered at the +opposite corner of the hall. 'I speak of the butler in particular +when I say that I know more evil of him than of any of the rest. +He will not let either his own conscience or my messenger speak to +him: I therefore now speak myself. I proclaim him a villain, and +a traitor to His Majesty the king. But what better is any one of +you who cares only for himself, eats, drinks, takes good money, and +gives vile service in return, stealing and wasting the king's +property, and making of the palace, which ought to be an example of +order and sobriety, a disgrace to the country?' + +For a moment all stood astonished into silence by this bold speech +from a stranger. True, they saw by his mattock over his shoulder +that he was nothing but a miner boy, yet for a moment the truth +told notwithstanding. Then a great roaring laugh burst from the +biggest of the footmen as he came shouldering his way through the +crowd toward Curdie. + +'Yes, I'm right,' he cried; 'I thought as much! This messenger, +forsooth, is nothing but a gallows bird - a fellow the city marshal +was going to hang, but unfortunately put it off till he should be +starved enough to save rope and be throttled with a pack thread. +He broke prison, and here he is preaching!' As he spoke, he +stretched out his great hand to lay hold of him. Curdie caught it +in his left hand, and heaved his mattock with the other. Finding, +however, nothing worse than an ox hoof, he restrained himself, +stepped back a pace or two, shifted his mattock to his left hand, +and struck him a little smart blow on the shoulder. His arm +dropped by his side, he gave a roar, and drew back. + +His fellows came crowding upon Curdie. Some called to the dogs; +others swore; the women screamed; the footmen and pages got round +him in a half circle, which he kept from closing by swinging his +mattock, and here and there threatening a blow. + +'Whoever confesses to having done anything wrong in this house, +however small, however great, and means to do better, let him come +to this corner of the room,' he cried. +None moved but the page, who went toward him skirting the wall. +When they caught sight of him, the crowd broke into a hiss of +derision. + +'There! See! Look at the sinner! He confesses! Actually +confesses! Come, what is it you stole? The barefaced hypocrite! +There's your sort to set up for reproving other people! Where's +the other now?' + +But the maid had left the room, and they let the page pass, for he +looked dangerous to stop. Curdie had just put him betwixt him and +the wall, behind the door, when in rushed the butler with the huge +kitchen poker, the point of which he had blown red-hot in the fire, +followed by the cook with his longest spit. Through the crowd, +which scattered right and left before them, they came down upon +Curdie. Uttering a shrill whistle, he caught the poker a blow with +his mattock, knocking the point to the ground, while the page +behind him started forward, and seizing the point of the spit, held +on to it with both hands, the cook kicking him furiously. + +Ere the butler could raise the poker again, or the cook recover the +spit, with a roar to terrify the dead, Lina dashed into the room, +her eyes flaming like candles. She went straight at the butler. +He was down in a moment, and she on the top of him, wagging her +tail over him like a lioness. + +'Don't kill him, Lina,' said Curdie. + +'Oh, Mr Miner!' cried the butler. + +'Put your foot on his mouth, Lina,' said Curdie. 'The truth Fear +tells is not much better than her lies.' + +The rest of the creatures now came stalking, rolling, leaping, +gliding, hobbling into the room, and each as he came took the next +place along the wall, until, solemn and grotesque, all stood +ranged, awaiting orders. + +And now some of the culprits were stealing to the doors nearest +them. Curdie whispered to the two creatures next him. Off went +Ballbody, rolling and bounding through the crowd like a spent +cannon shot, and when the foremost reached the door to the +corridor, there he lay at the foot of it grinning; to the other +door scuttled a scorpion, as big as a huge crab. The rest stood so +still that some began to think they were only boys dressed up to +look awful; they persuaded themselves they were only another part +of the housemaid's and page's vengeful contrivance, and their evil +spirits began to rise again. Meantime Curdie had, with a second +sharp blow from the hammer of his mattock, disabled the cook, so +that he yielded the spit with a groan. He now turned to the +avengers. + +'Go at them,' he said. + +The whole nine-and-forty obeyed at once, each for himself, and +after his own fashion. A scene of confusion and terror followed. +The crowd scattered like a dance of flies. The creatures had been +instructed not to hurt much, but to hunt incessantly, until +everyone had rushed from the house. The women shrieked, and ran +hither and thither through the hall, pursued each by her own +horror, and snapped at by every other in passing. if one threw +herself down in hysterical despair, she was instantly poked or +clawed or nibbled up again. + +Though they were quite as frightened at first, the men did not run +so fast; and by and by some of them finding they were only glared +at, and followed, and pushed, began to summon up courage once more, +and with courage came impudence. The tapir had the big footman in +charge: the fellow stood stock-still, and let the beast come up to +him, then put out his finger and playfully patted his nose. The +tapir gave the nose a little twist, and the finger lay on the +floor. + +Then indeed did the footman run. +Gradually the avengers grew more severe, and the terrors of the +imagination were fast yielding to those of sensuous experience, +when a page, perceiving one of the doors no longer guarded, sprang +at it, and ran out. Another and another followed. Not a beast +went after, until, one by one, they were every one gone from the +hall, and the whole crew in the kitchen. + +There they were beginning to congratulate themselves that all was +over, when in came the creatures trooping after them, and the +second act of their terror and pain began. They were flung about +in all directions; their clothes were torn from them; they were +pinched and scratched any- and everywhere; Ballbody kept rolling up +them and over them, confining his attentions to no one in +particular; the scorpion kept grabbing at their legs with his huge +pincers; a three-foot centipede kept screwing up their bodies, +nipping as he went; varied as numerous were their woes. Nor was it +long before the last of them had fled from the kitchen to the +sculleries. + +But thither also they were followed, and there again they were +hunted about. They were bespattered with the dirt of their own +neglect; they were soused in the stinking water that had boiled +greens; they were smeared with rancid dripping; their faces were +rubbed in maggots: I dare not tell all that was done to them. At +last they got the door into a back yard open, and rushed out. Then +first they knew that the wind was howling and the rain falling in +sheets. But there was no rest for them even there. Thither also +were they followed by the inexorable avengers, and the only door +here was a door out of the palace: out every soul of them was +driven, and left, some standing, some lying, some crawling, to the +farther buffeting of the waterspouts and whirlwinds ranging every +street of the city. The door was flung to behind them, and they +heard it locked and bolted and barred against them. + + +CHAPTER 27 +More Vengeance + + +As soon as they were gone, Curdie brought the creatures back to the +servants' hall, and told them to eat up everything on the table. +it was a sight to see them all standing round it - except such as +had to get upon it - eating and drinking, each after its fashion, +without a smile, or a word, or a glance of fellowship in the act. +A very few moments served to make everything eatable vanish, and +then Curdie requested them to clean house, and the page who stood +by to assist them. + +Every one set about it except Ballbody: he could do nothing at +cleaning, for the more he rolled, the more he spread the dirt. +Curdie was curious to know what he had been, and how he had come to +be such as he was: but he could only conjecture that he was a +gluttonous alderman whom nature had treated homeopathically. +And now there was such a cleaning and clearing out of neglected +places, such a burying and burning of refuse, such a rinsing of +jugs, such a swilling of sinks, and such a flushing of drains as +would have delighted the eyes of all true housekeepers and lovers +of cleanliness generally. + +Curdie meantime was with the king, telling him all he had done. +They had heard a little noise, but not much, for he had told the +avengers to repress outcry as much as possible; and they had seen +to it that the more anyone cried out the more he had to cry out +upon, while the patient ones they scarcely hurt at all. + +Having promised His Majesty and Her Royal Highness a good +breakfast, Curdie now went to finish the business. The courtiers +must be dealt with. A few who were the worst, and the leaders of +the rest, must be made examples of; the others should be driven to +the street. + +He found the chiefs of the conspiracy holding a final consultation +in the smaller room off the hall. These were the lord chamberlain, +the attorney-general, the master of the horse, and the king's +private secretary: the lord chancellor and the rest, as foolish as +faithless, were but the tools of these. + +The housemaid had shown him a little closet, opening from a passage +behind, where he could overhear all that passed in that room; and +now Curdie heard enough to understand that they had determined, in +the dead of that night, rather in the deepest dark before the +morning, to bring a certain company of soldiers into the palace, +make away with the king, secure the princess, announce the sudden +death of His Majesty, read as his the will they had drawn up, and +proceed to govern the country at their ease, and with results: they +would at once levy severer taxes, and pick a quarrel with the most +powerful of their neighbours. Everything settled, they agreed to +retire, and have a few hours' quiet sleep first - all but the +secretary, who was to sit up and call them at the proper moment. +Curdie allowed them half an hour to get to bed, and then set about +completing his purgation of the palace. + +First he called Lina, and opened the door of the room where the +secretary sat. She crept in, and laid herself down against it. +When the secretary, rising to stretch his legs, caught sight of her +eyes, he stood frozen with terror. She made neither motion nor +sound. Gathering courage, and taking the thing for a spectral +illusion, he made a step forward. She showed her other teeth, with +a growl neither more than audible nor less than horrible. The +secretary sank fainting into a chair. He was not a brave man, and +besides, his conscience had gone over to the enemy, and was sitting +against the door by Lina. + +To the lord chamberlain's door next, Curdie conducted the +legserpent, and let him in. + +Now His Lordship had had a bedstead made for himself, sweetly +fashioned of rods of silver gilt: upon it the legserpent found him +asleep, and under it he crept. But out he came on the other side, +and crept over it next, and again under it, and so over it, under +it, over it, five or six times, every time leaving a coil of +himself behind him, until he had softly folded all his length about +the lord chamberlain and his bed. This done, he set up his head, +looking down with curved neck right over His Lordship's, and began +to hiss in his face. + +He woke in terror unspeakable, and would have started up but the +moment he moved, the legserpent drew his coils closer, and closer +still, and drew and drew until the quaking traitor heard the joints +of his bedstead grinding and gnarring. Presently he persuaded +himself that it was only a horrid nightmare, and began to struggle +with all his strength to throw it off. Thereupon the legserpent +gave his hooked nose such a bite that his teeth met through it - +but it was hardly thicker than the bowl of a spoon; and then the +vulture knew that he was in the grasp of his enemy the snake, and +yielded. + +As soon as he was quiet the legserpent began to untwist and +retwist, to uncoil and recoil himself, swinging and swaying, +knotting and relaxing himself with strangest curves and +convolutions, always, however, leaving at least one coil around his +victim. At last he undid himself entirely, and crept from the bed. +Then first the lord chamberlain discovered that his tormentor had +bent and twisted the bedstead, legs and canopy and all, so about +him that he was shut in a silver cage out of which it was +impossible for him to find a way. Once more, thinking his enemy +was gone, he began to shout for help. But the instant he opened +his mouth his keeper darted at him and bit him, and after three or +four such essays, he lay still. + +The master of the horse Curdie gave in charge to the tapir. When +the soldier saw him enter - for he was not yet asleep - he sprang +from his bed, and flew at him with his sword. But the creature's +hide was invulnerable to his blows, and he pecked at his legs with +his proboscis until he jumped into bed again, groaning, and covered +himself up; after which the tapir contented himself with now and +then paying a visit to his toes. + +As for the attorney-general, Curdie led to his door a huge spider, +about two feet long in the body, which, having made an excellent +supper, was full of webbing. The attorney-general had not gone to +bed, but sat in a chair asleep before a great mirror. He had been +trying the effect of a diamond star which he had that morning taken +from the jewel room. When he woke he fancied himself paralysed; +every limb, every finger even, was motionless: coils and coils of +broad spider ribbon bandaged his members to his body, and all to +the chair. In the glass he saw himself wound about with slavery +infinite. On a footstool a yard off sat the spider glaring at him. + +Clubhead had mounted guard over the butler, where he lay tied hand +and foot under the third cask. From that cask he had seen the wine +run into a great bath, and therein he expected to be drowned. The +doctor, with his crushed leg, needed no one to guard him. + +And now Curdie proceeded to the expulsion of the rest. Great men +or underlings, he treated them all alike. From room to room over +the house he went, and sleeping or waking took the man by the hand. +Such was the state to which a year of wicked rule had reduced the +moral condition of the court, that in it all he found but three +with human hands. The possessors of these he allowed to dress +themselves and depart in peace. When they perceived his mission, +and how he was backed, they yielded. + +Then commenced a general hunt, to clear the house of the vermin. +Out of their beds in their night clothing, out of their rooms, +gorgeous chambers or garret nooks, the creatures hunted them. Not +one was allowed to escape. Tumult and noise there was little, for +fear was too deadly for outcry. Ferreting them out everywhere, +following them upstairs and downstairs, yielding no instant of +repose except upon the way out, the avengers persecuted the +miscreants, until the last of them was shivering outside the palace +gates, with hardly sense enough left to know where to turn. + +When they set out to look for shelter, they found every inn full of +the servants expelled before them, and not one would yield his +place to a superior suddenly levelled with himself. Most houses +refused to admit them on the ground of the wickedness that must +have drawn on them such a punishment; and not a few would have been +left in the streets all night, had not Derba, roused by the vain +entreaties at the doors on each side of her cottage, opened hers, +and given up everything to them. The lord chancellor was only too +glad to share a mattress with a stableboy, and steal his bare feet +under his jacket. + +In the morning Curdie appeared, and the outcasts were in terror, +thinking he had come after them again. But he took no notice of +them: his object was to request Derba to go to the palace: the king +required her services. She need take no trouble about her cottage, +he said; the palace was henceforward her home: she was the king's +chatelaine over men and maidens of his household. And this very +morning she must cook His Majesty a nice breakfast. + + + +CHAPTER 28 +The Preacher + + +Various reports went undulating through the city as to the nature +of what had taken place in the palace. The people gathered, and +stared at the house, eyeing it as if it had sprung up in the night. +But it looked sedate enough, remaining closed and silent, like a +house that was dead. They saw no one come out or go in. Smoke +arose from a chimney or two; there was hardly another sign of life. +It was not for some little time generally understood that the +highest officers of the crown as well as the lowest menials of the +palace had been dismissed in disgrace: for who was to recognize a +lord chancellor in his nightshirt? And what lord chancellor would, +so attired in the street, proclaim his rank and office aloud? +Before it was day most of the courtiers crept down to the river, +hired boats, and betook themselves to their homes or their friends +in the country. It was assumed in the city that the domestics had +been discharged upon a sudden discovery of general and unpardonable +peculation; for, almost everybody being guilty of it himself, petty +dishonesty was the crime most easily credited and least easily +passed over in Gwyntystorm. + +Now that same day was Religion day, and not a few of the clergy, +always glad to seize on any passing event to give interest to the +dull and monotonic grind of their intellectual machines, made this +remarkable one the ground of discourse to their congregations. +More especially than the rest, the first priest of the great temple +where was the royal pew, judged himself, from his relation to the +palace, called upon to 'improve the occasion', for they talked ever +about improvement at Gwyntystorm, all the time they were going down +hill with a rush. + +The book which had, of late years, come to be considered the most +sacred, was called The Book of Nations, and consisted of proverbs, +and history traced through custom: from it the first priest chose +his text; and his text was, 'Honesty Is the Best Policy.' He was +considered a very eloquent man, but I can offer only a few of the +larger bones of his sermon. + +The main proof of the verity of their religion, he said, was that +things always went well with those who profess it; and its first +fundamental principle, grounded in inborn invariable instinct, was, +that every One should take care of that One. This was the first +duty of Man. If every one would but obey this law, number one, +then would every one be perfectly cared for - one being always +equal to one. But the faculty of care was in excess of need, and +all that overflowed, and would otherwise run to waste, ought to be +gently turned in the direction of one's neighbour, seeing that this +also wrought for the fulfilling of the law, inasmuch as the +reaction of excess so directed was upon the director of the same, +to the comfort, that is, and well-being of the original self. To +be just and friendly was to build the warmest and safest of all +nests, and to be kind and loving was to line it with the softest of +all furs and feathers, for the one precious, comfort-loving self +there to lie, revelling in downiest bliss. One of the laws +therefore most binding upon men because of its relation to the +first and greatest of all duties, was embodied in the Proverb he +had just read; and what stronger proof of its wisdom and truth +could they desire than the sudden and complete vengeance which had +fallen upon those worse than ordinary sinners who had offended +against the king's majesty by forgetting that 'Honesty Is the Best +Policy'? + +At this point of the discourse the head of the legserpent rose from +the floor of the temple, towering above the pulpit, above the +priest, then curving downward, with open mouth slowly descended +upon him. Horror froze the sermon-pump. He stared upward aghast. +The great teeth of the animal closed upon a mouthful of the sacred +vestments, and slowly he lifted the preacher from the pulpit, like +a handful of linen from a washtub, and, on his four solemn stumps, +bore him out of the temple, dangling aloft from his jaws. At the +back of it he dropped him into the dust hole among the remnants of +a library whose age had destroyed its value in the eyes of the +chapter. They found him burrowing in it, a lunatic henceforth - +whose madness presented the peculiar feature, that in its paroxysms +he jabbered sense. + +Bone-freezing horror pervaded Gwyntystorm. If their best and +wisest were treated with such contempt, what might not the rest of +them look for? Alas for their city! Their grandly respectable +city! Their loftily reasonable city! Where it was all to end, who +could tell! + +But something must be done. Hastily assembling, the priests chose +a new first priest, and in full conclave unanimously declared and +accepted that the king in his retirement had, through the practice +of the blackest magic, turned the palace into a nest of demons in +the midst of them. A grand exorcism was therefore indispensable. + +In the meantime the fact came out that the greater part of the +courtiers had been dismissed as well as the servants, and this fact +swelled the hope of the Party of Decency, as they called +themselves. Upon it they proceeded to act, and strengthened +themselves on all sides. + +The action of the king's bodyguard remained for a time uncertain. +But when at length its officers were satisfied that both the master +of the horse and their colonel were missing, they placed themselves +under the orders of the first priest. +Every one dated the culmination of the evil from the visit of the +miner and his mongrel; and the butchers vowed, if they could but +get hold of them again, they would roast both of them alive. At +once they formed themselves into a regiment, and put their dogs in +training for attack. + +incessant was the talk, innumerable were the suggestions, and great +was the deliberation. The general consent, however, was that as +soon as the priests should have expelled the demons, they would +depose the king, and attired in all his regal insignia, shut him in +a cage for public show; then choose governors, with the lord +chancellor at their head, whose first duty should be to remit every +possible tax; and the magistrates, by the mouth of the city +marshal, required all able-bodied citizens, in order to do their +part toward the carrying out of these and a multitude of other +reforms, to be ready to take arms at the first summons. + +Things needful were prepared as speedily as possible, and a mighty +ceremony, in the temple, in the market place, and in front of the +palace, was performed for the expulsion of the demons. This over, +the leaders retired to arrange an attack upon the palace. + +But that night events occurred which, proving the failure of their +first, induced the abandonment of their second, intent. Certain of +the prowling order of the community, whose numbers had of late been +steadily on the increase, reported frightful things. Demons of +indescribable ugliness had been espied careering through the +midnight streets and courts. A citizen - some said in the very act +of housebreaking, but no one cared to look into trifles at such a +crisis - had been seized from behind, he could not see by what, and +soused in the river. A well-known receiver of stolen goods had had +his shop broken open, and when he came down in the morning had +found everything in ruin on the pavement. The wooden image of +justice over the door of the city marshal had had the arm that held +the sword bitten off. The gluttonous magistrate had been pulled +from his bed in the dark, by beings of which he could see nothing +but the flaming eyes, and treated to a bath of the turtle soup that +had been left simmering by the side of the kitchen fire. Having +poured it over him, they put him again into his bed, where he soon +learned how a mummy must feel in its cerements. + +Worst of all, in the market place was fixed up a paper, with the +king's own signature, to the effect that whoever henceforth should +show inhospitality to strangers, and should be convicted of the +same, should be instantly expelled the city; while a second, in the +butchers' quarter, ordained that any dog which henceforth should +attack a stranger should be immediately destroyed. It was plain, +said the butchers, that the clergy were of no use; they could not +exorcise demons! That afternoon, catching sight of a poor old +fellow in rags and tatters, quietly walking up the street, they +hounded their dogs upon him, and had it not been that the door of +Derba's cottage was standing open, and was near enough for him to +dart in and shut it ere they reached him, he would have been torn +in pieces. +And thus things went on for some days. + + + +CHAPTER 29 +Barbara + + +In the meantime, with Derba to minister to his wants, with Curdie +to protect him, and Irene to nurse him, the king was getting +rapidly stronger. Good food was what he most wanted and of that, +at least of certain kinds of it, there was plentiful store in the +palace. Everywhere since the cleansing of the lower regions of it, +the air was clean and sweet, and under the honest hands of the one +housemaid the king's chamber became a pleasure to his eyes. With +such changes it was no wonder if his heart grew lighter as well as +his brain clearer. +But still evil dreams came and troubled him, the lingering result +of the wicked medicines the doctor had given him. Every night, +sometimes twice or thrice, he would wake up in terror, and it would +be minutes ere he could come to himself. The consequence was that +he was always worse in the morning, and had loss to make up during +the day. While he slept, Irene or Curdie, one or the other, must +still be always by his side. + +One night, when it was Curdie's turn with the king, he heard a cry +somewhere in the house, and as there was no other child, concluded, +notwithstanding the distance of her grandmother's room, that it +must be Barbara. Fearing something might be wrong, and noting the +king's sleep more quiet than usual, he ran to see. He found the +child in the middle of the floor, weeping bitterly, and Derba +slumbering peacefully in bed. The instant she saw him the +night-lost thing ceased her crying, smiled, and stretched out her +arms to him. Unwilling to wake the old woman, who had been working +hard all day, he took the child, and carried her with him. She +clung to him so, pressing her tear-wet radiant face against his, +that her little arms threatened to choke him. + +When he re-entered the chamber, he found the king sitting up in +bed, fighting the phantoms of some hideous dream. Generally upon +such occasions, although he saw his watcher, he could not +dissociate him from the dream, and went raving on. But the moment +his eyes fell upon little Barbara, whom he had never seen before, +his soul came into them with a rush, and a smile like the dawn of +an eternal day overspread his countenance; the dream was nowhere, +and the child was in his heart. He stretched out his arms to her, +the child stretched out hers to him, and in five minutes they were +both asleep, each in the other's embrace. + +From that night Barbara had a crib in the king's chamber, and as +often as he woke, Irene or Curdie, whichever was watching, took the +sleeping child and laid her in his arms, upon which, invariably and +instantly, the dream would vanish. A great part of the day too she +would be playing on or about the king's bed; and it was a delight +to the heart of the princess to see her amusing herself with the +crown, now sitting upon it, now rolling it hither and thither about +the room like a hoop. Her grandmother entering once while she was +pretending to make porridge in it, held up her hands in +horror-struck amazement; but the king would not allow her to +interfere, for the king was now Barbara's playmate, and his crown +their plaything. + +The colonel of the guard also was growing better. Curdie went +often to see him. They were soon friends, for the best people +understand each other the easiest, and the grim old warrior loved +the miner boy as if he were at once his son and his angel. He was +very anxious about his regiment. He said the officers were mostly +honest men, he believed, but how they might be doing without him, +or what they might resolve, in ignorance of the real state of +affairs, and exposed to every misrepresentation, who could tell? +Curdie proposed that he should send for the major, offering to be +the messenger. The colonel agreed, and Curdie went - not without +his mattock, because of the dogs. + +But the officers had been told by the master of the horse that +their colonel was dead, and although they were amazed he should be +buried without the attendance of his regiment, they never doubted +the information. The handwriting itself of their colonel was +insufficient, counteracted by the fresh reports daily current, to +destroy the lie. The major regarded the letter as a trap for the +next officer in command, and sent his orderly to arrest the +messenger. But Curdie had had the wisdom not to wait for an +answer. + +The king's enemies said that he had first poisoned the good colonel +of the guard, and then murdered the master of the horse, and other +faithful councillors; and that his oldest and most attached +domestics had but escaped from the palace with their lives - not +all of them, for the butler was missing. Mad or wicked, he was not +only unfit to rule any longer, but worse than unfit to have in his +power and under his influence the young princess, only hope of +Gwyntystorm and the kingdom. + +The moment the lord chancellor reached his house in the country and +had got himself clothed, he began to devise how yet to destroy his +master; and the very next morning set out for the neighbouring +kingdom of Borsagrass to invite invasion, and offer a compact with +its monarch. + + + +CHAPTER 30 +Peter + + +At the cottage in the mountain everything for a time went on just +as before. It was indeed dull without Curdie, but as often as they +looked at the emerald it was gloriously green, and with nothing to +fear or regret, and everything to hope, they required little +comforting. One morning, however, at last, Peter, who had been +consulting the gem, rather now from habit than anxiety, as a farmer +his barometer in undoubtful weather, turned suddenly to his wife, +the stone in his hand, and held it up with a look of ghastly +dismay. + +'Why, that's never the emerald!' said Joan. + +'It is,' answered Peter; 'but it were small blame to any one that +took it for a bit of bottle glass!' + +For, all save one spot right in the centre, of intensest and most +brilliant green, it looked as if the colour had been burnt out of +it. + +'Run, run, Peter!' cried his wife. 'Run and tell the old princess. +it may not be too late. The boy must be lying at death's door.' + +Without a word Peter caught up his mattock, darted from the +cottage, and was at the bottom of the hill in less time than he +usually took to get halfway. + +The door of the king's house stood open; he rushed in and up the +stair. But after wandering about in vain for an hour, opening door +after door, and finding no way farther up, the heart of the old man +had well-nigh failed him. Empty rooms, empty rooms! - desertion +and desolation everywhere. + +At last he did come upon the door to the tower stair. Up he +darted. Arrived at the top, he found three doors, and, one after +the other, knocked at them all. But there was neither voice nor +hearing. Urged by his faith and his dread, slowly, hesitatingly, +he opened one. It revealed a bare garret room, nothing in it but +one chair and one spinning wheel. He closed it, and opened the +next - to start back in terror, for he saw nothing but a great +gulf, a moonless night, full of stars, and, for all the stars, +dark, dark! - a fathomless abyss. He opened the third door, and a +rush like the tide of a living sea invaded his ears. Multitudinous +wings flapped and flashed in the sun, and, like the ascending +column from a volcano, white birds innumerable shot into the air, +darkening the day with the shadow of their cloud, and then, with a +sharp sweep, as if bent sideways by a sudden wind, flew northward, +swiftly away, and vanished. The place felt like a tomb. There +seemed no breath of life left in it. + +Despair laid hold upon him; he rushed down thundering with heavy +feet. Out upon him darted the housekeeper like an ogress-spider, +and after her came her men; but Peter rushed past them, heedless +and careless - for had not the princess mocked him? - and sped +along the road to Gwyntystorm. What help lay in a miner's mattock, +a man's arm, a father's heart, he would bear to his boy. + +Joan sat up all night waiting his return, hoping and hoping. The +mountain was very still, and the sky was clear; but all night long +the miner sped northward, and the heart of his wife was troubled. + + + +CHAPTER 31 +The Sacrifice + + +Things in the palace were in a strange condition: the king playing +with a child and dreaming wise dreams, waited upon by a little +princess with the heart of a queen, and a youth from the mines, who +went nowhere, not even into the king's chamber, without his mattock +on his shoulder and a horrible animal at his heels; in a room +nearby the colonel of his guard, also in bed, without a soldier to +obey him; in six other rooms, far apart, six miscreants, each +watched by a beast-jailer; ministers to them all, an old woman and +a page; and in the wine cellar, forty-three animals, creatures more +grotesque than ever brain of man invented. None dared approach its +gates, and seldom one issued from them. + +All the dwellers in the city were united in enmity to the palace. +It swarmed with evil spirits, they said, whereas the evil spirits +were in the city, unsuspected. One consequence of their presence +was that, when the rumour came that a great army was on the march +against Gwyntystorm, instead of rushing to their defences, to make +new gates, free portcullises and drawbridges, and bar the river, +each band flew first to their treasures, burying them in their +cellars and gardens, and hiding them behind stones in their +chimneys; and, next to rebellion, signing an invitation to His +Majesty of Borsagrass to enter at their open gates, destroy their +king, and annex their country to his own. + +The straits of isolation were soon found in the palace: its +invalids were requiring stronger food, and what was to be done? +For if the butchers sent meat to the palace, was it not likely +enough to be poisoned? Curdie said to Derba he would think of some +plan before morning. + +But that same night, as soon as it was dark, Lina came to her +master, and let him understand she wanted to go out. He unlocked +a little private postern for her, left it so that she could push it +open when she returned, and told the crocodile to stretch himself +across it inside. Before midnight she came back with a young deer. + +Early the next morning the legserpent crept out of the wine cellar, +through the broken door behind, shot into the river, and soon +appeared in the kitchen with a splendid sturgeon. Every night Lina +went out hunting, and every morning Legserpent went out fishing, +and both invalids and household had plenty to eat. As to news, the +page, in plain clothes, would now and then venture out into the +market place, and gather some. + +One night he came back with the report that the army of the king of +Borsagrass had crossed the border. Two days after, he brought the +news that the enemy was now but twenty miles from Gwyntystorm. + +The colonel of the guard rose, and began furbishing his armour - +but gave it over to the page, and staggered across to the barracks, +which were in the next street. The sentry took him for a ghost or +worse, ran into the guardroom, bolted the door, and stopped his +ears. The poor colonel, who was yet hardly able to stand, crawled +back despairing. + +For Curdie, he had already, as soon as the first rumour reached +him, resolved, if no other instructions came, and the king +continued unable to give orders, to call Lina and the creatures, +and march to meet the enemy. If he died, he died for the right, +and there was a right end of it. He had no preparations to make, +except a good sleep. + +He asked the king to let the housemaid take his place by His +Majesty that night, and went and lay down on the floor of the +corridor, no farther off than a whisper would reach from the door +of the chamber. There, -with an old mantle of the king's thrown +over him, he was soon fast asleep. + +Somewhere about the middle of the night, he woke suddenly, started +to his feet, and rubbed his eyes. He could not tell what had waked +him. But could he be awake, or was he not dreaming? The curtain +of the king's door, a dull red ever before, was glowing a gorgeous, +a radiant purple; and the crown wrought upon it in silks and gems +was flashing as if it burned! What could it mean? Was the king's +chamber on fire? He darted to the door and lifted the curtain. +Glorious terrible sight! + +A long and broad marble table, that stood at one end of the room, +had been drawn into the middle of it, and thereon burned a great +fire, of a sort that Curdie knew - a fire of glowing, flaming +roses, red and white. In the midst of the roses lay the king, +moaning, but motionless. Every rose that fell from the table to +the floor, someone, whom Curdie could not plainly see for the +brightness, lifted and laid burning upon the king's face, until at +length his face too was covered with the live roses, and he lay all +within the fire, moaning still, with now and then a shuddering sob. + +And the shape that Curdie saw and could not see, wept over the king +as he lay in the fire, and often she hid her face in handfuls of +her shadowy hair, and from her hair the water of her weeping +dropped like sunset rain in the light of the roses. At last she +lifted a great armful of her hair, and shook it over the fire, and +the drops fell from it in showers, and they did not hiss in the +flames, but there arose instead as it were the sound of running +brooks. + +And the glow of the red fire died away, and the glow of the white +fire grew grey, and the light was gone, and on the table all was +black - except the face of the king, which shone from under the +burnt roses like a diamond in the ashes of a furnace. + +Then Curdie, no longer dazzled, saw and knew the old princess. The +room was lighted with the splendour of her face, of her blue eyes, +of her sapphire crown. Her golden hair went streaming out from her +through the air till it went off in mist and light. She was large +and strong as a Titaness. She stooped over the table-altar, put +her mighty arms under the living sacrifice, lifted the king, as if +he were but a little child, to her bosom, walked with him up the +floor, and laid him in his bed. Then darkness fell. + +The miner boy turned silent away, and laid himself down again in +the corridor. An absolute joy filled his heart, his bosom, his +head, his whole body. All was safe; all was well. With the helve +of his mattock tight in his grasp, he sank into a dreamless sleep. + + +CHAPTER 32 +The King's Army + + +He woke like a giant refreshed with wine. + +When he went into the king's chamber, the housemaid sat where he +had left her, and everything in the room was as it had been the +night before, save that a heavenly odour of roses filled the air of +it. He went up to the bed. The king opened his eyes, and the soul +of perfect health shone out of them. Nor was Curdie amazed in his +delight. + +'Is it not time to rise, Curdie?' said the king. + +'It is, Your Majesty. Today we must be doing,' answered Curdie. + +'What must we be doing today, Curdie?' + +'Fighting, sire.' + +'Then fetch me my armour - that of plated steel, in the chest +there. You will find the underclothing with it.' + +As he spoke, he reached out his hand for his sword, which hung in +the bed before him, drew it, and examined the blade. + +'A little rusty!' he said, 'but the edge is there. We shall polish +it ourselves today - not on the wheel. Curdie, my son, I wake from +a troubled dream. A glorious torture has ended it, and I live. I +know now well how things are, but you shall explain them to me as +I get on my armour. No, I need no bath. I am clean. Call the +colonel of the guard.' + +In complete steel the old man stepped into the chamber. He knew it +not, but the old princess had passed through his room in the night. + +'Why, Sir Bronzebeard!' said the king, 'you are dressed before me! +You need no valet, old man, when there is battle in the wind!' + +'Battle, sire!' returned the colonel. 'Where then are our +soldiers?' + +'Why, there and here,' answered the king, pointing to the colonel +first, and then to himself. 'Where else, man? The enemy will be +upon us ere sunset, if we be not upon him ere noon. What other +thing was in your brave brain when you donned your armour, friend?' + +'Your Majesty's orders, sire,' answered Sir Bronzebeard. + +The king smiled and turned to Curdie. + +'And what was in yours, Curdie, for your first word was of battle?' + +'See, Your Majesty,' answered Curdie; 'I have polished my mattock. +If Your Majesty had not taken the command, I would have met the +enemy at the head of my beasts, and died in comfort, or done +better.' + +'Brave boy!' said the king. 'He who takes his life in his hand is +the only soldier. You shall head your beasts today. Sir +Bronzebeard, will you die with me if need be?' + +'Seven times, my king,' said the colonel. + +'Then shall we win this battle!' said the king. 'Curdie, go and +bind securely the six, that we lose not their guards. Can you find +me a horse, think you, Sir Bronzebeard? Alas! they told me my +white charger was dead.' + +'I will go and fright the varletry with my presence, and secure, I +trust, a horse for Your Majesty, and one for myself.' + +'And look you, brother!' said the king; 'bring one for my miner boy +too, and a sober old charger for the princess, for she too must go +to the battle, and conquer with us.' + +'Pardon me, sire,' said Curdie; 'a miner can fight best on foot. +I might smite my horse dead under me with a missed blow. And +besides that, I must be near to my beasts.' + +'As you will,' said the king. 'Three horses then, Sir +Bronzebeard.' + +The colonel departed, doubting sorely in his heart how to accoutre +and lead from the barrack stables three horses, in the teeth of his +revolted regiment. + +In the hall he met the housemaid. + +'Can you lead a horse?' he asked. +'Yes, sir.' + +'Are you willing to die for the king?' + +'Yes, sir.' + +'Can you do as you are bid?' + +'I can keep on trying, sir.' + +'Come then. Were I not a man I would be a woman such as you.' + +When they entered the barrack yard, the soldiers scattered like +autumn leaves before a blast of winter. They went into the stable +unchallenged - and lo! in a stall, before the colonel's eyes, stood +the king's white charger, with the royal saddle and bridle hung +high beside him! + +'Traitorous thieves!' muttered the old man in his beard, and went +along the stalls, looking for his own black charger. Having found +him, he returned to saddle first the king's. But the maid had +already the saddle upon him, and so girt that the colonel could +thrust no finger tip between girth and skin. He left her to finish +what she had so well begun, and went and made ready his own. He +then chose for the princess a great red horse, twenty years old, +which he knew to possess every equine virtue. This and his own he +led to the palace, and the maid led the king's. + +The king and Curdie stood in the court, the king in full armour of +silvered steel, with a circlet of rubies and diamonds round his +helmet. He almost leaped for joy when he saw his great white +charger come in, gentle as a child to the hand of the housemaid. +But when the horse saw his master in his armour, he reared and +bounded in jubilation, yet did not break from the hand that held +him. Then out came the princess attired and ready, with a hunting +knife her father had given her by her side. They brought her +mother's saddle, splendent with gems and gold, set it on the great +red horse, and lifted her to it. But the saddle was so big, and +the horse so tall, that the child found no comfort in them. + +'Please, King Papa,' she said, 'can I not have my white pony?' + +'I did not think of him, little one,' said the king. 'Where is +he?' + +'In the stable,' answered the maid. 'I found him half starved, the +only horse within the gates, the day after the servants were driven +out. He has been well fed since.' + +'Go and fetch him,' said the king. + +As the maid appeared with the pony, from a side door came Lina and +the forty-nine, following Curdie. + +'I will go with Curdie and the Uglies,' cried the princess; and as +soon as she was mounted she got into the middle of the pack. + +So out they set, the strangest force that ever went against an +enemy. The king in silver armour sat stately on his white steed, +with the stones flashing on his helmet; beside him the grim old +colonel, armed in steel, rode his black charger; behind the king, +a little to the right, Curdie walked afoot, his mattock shining in +the sun; Lina followed at his heel; behind her came the wonderful +company of Uglies; in the midst of them rode the gracious little +Irene, dressed in blue, and mounted on the prettiest of white +ponies; behind the colonel, a little to the left, walked the page, +armed in a breastplate, headpiece, and trooper's sword he had found +in the palace, all much too big for him, and carrying a huge brass +trumpet which he did his best to blow; and the king smiled and +seemed pleased with his music, although it was but the grunt of a +brazen unrest. Alongside the beasts walked Derba carrying Barbara +- their refuge the mountains, should the cause of the king be lost; +as soon as they were over the river they turned aside to ascend the +Cliff, and there awaited the forging of the day's history. Then +first Curdie saw that the housemaid, whom they had all forgotten, +was following, mounted on the great red horse, and seated in the +royal saddle. + +Many were the eyes unfriendly of women that had stared at them from +door and window as they passed through the city; and low laughter +and mockery and evil words from the lips of children had rippled +about their ears; but the men were all gone to welcome the enemy, +the butchers the first, the king's guard the last. And now on the +heels of the king's army rushed out the women and children also, to +gather flowers and branches, wherewith to welcome their conquerors. + +About a mile down the river, Curdie, happening to look behind him, +saw the maid, whom he had supposed gone with Derba, still following +on the great red horse. The same moment the king, a few paces in +front of him, caught sight of the enemy's tents, pitched where, the +cliffs receding, the bank of the river widened to a little plain. + + + +CHAPTER 33 +The Battle + + +He commanded the page to blow his trumpet; and, in the strength of +the moment, the youth uttered a right warlike defiance. + +But the butchers and the guard, who had gone over armed to the +enemy, thinking that the king had come to make his peace also, and +that it might thereafter go hard with them, rushed at once to make +short work with him, and both secure and commend themselves. The +butchers came on first - for the guards had slackened their saddle +girths - brandishing their knives, and talking to their dogs. +Curdie and the page, with Lina and her pack, bounded to meet them. +Curdie struck down the foremost with his mattock. The page, +finding his sword too much for him, threw it away and seized the +butcher's knife, which as he rose he plunged into the foremost dog. +Lina rushed raging and gnashing among them. She would not look at +a dog so long as there was a butcher on his legs, and she never +stopped to kill a butcher, only with one grind of her jaws crushed +a leg of him. When they were all down, then indeed she flashed +among the dogs. + +Meantime the king and the colonel had spurred toward the advancing +guard. The king clove the major through skull and collar bone, and +the colonel stabbed the captain in the throat. Then a fierce +combat commenced - two against many. But the butchers and their +dogs quickly disposed of, up came Curdie and his beasts. The +horses of the guard, struck with terror, turned in spite of the +spur, and fled in confusion. +Thereupon the forces of Borsagrass, which could see little of the +affair, but correctly imagined a small determined body in front of +them, hastened to the attack. No sooner did their first advancing +wave appear through the foam of the retreating one, than the king +and the colonel and the page, Curdie and the beasts, went charging +upon them. Their attack, especially the rush of the Uglies, threw +the first line into great confusion, but the second came up +quickly; the beasts could not be everywhere, there were thousands +to one against them, and the king and his three companions were in +the greatest possible danger. + +A dense cloud came over the sun, and sank rapidly toward the earth. +The cloud moved all together, and yet the thousands of white flakes +of which it was made up moved each for itself in ceaseless and +rapid motion: those flakes were the wings of pigeons. Down swooped +the birds upon the invaders; right in the face of man and horse +they flew with swift-beating wings, blinding eyes and confounding +brain. Horses reared and plunged and wheeled. All was at once in +confusion. The men made frantic efforts to seize their tormentors, +but not one could they touch; and they outdoubled them in numbers. +Between every wild clutch came a peck of beak and a buffet of +pinion in the face. Generally the bird would, with sharp-clapping +wings, dart its whole body, with the swiftness of an arrow, against +its singled mark, yet so as to glance aloft the same instant, and +descend skimming; much as the thin stone, shot with horizontal cast +of arm, having touched and torn the surface of the lake, ascends to +skim, touch, and tear again. So mingled the feathered multitude in +the grim game of war. It was a storm in which the wind was birds, +and the sea men. And ever as each bird arrived at the rear of the +enemy, it turned, ascended, and sped to the front to charge again. + +The moment the battle began, the princess's pony took fright, and +turned and fled. But the maid wheeled her horse across the road +and stopped him; and they waited together the result of the battle. + +And as they waited, it seemed to the princess right strange that +the pigeons, every one as it came to the rear, and fetched a +compass to gather force for the reattack, should make the head of +her attendant on the red horse the goal around which it turned; so +that about them was an unintermittent flapping and flashing of +wings, and a curving, sweeping torrent of the side-poised wheeling +bodies of birds. Strange also it seemed that the maid should be +constantly waving her arm toward the battle. And the time of the +motion of her arm so fitted with the rushes of birds, that it +looked as if the birds obeyed her gesture, and she was casting +living javelins by the thousand against the enemy. The moment a +pigeon had rounded her head, it went off straight as bolt from bow, +and with trebled velocity. + +But of these strange things, others besides the princess had taken +note. From a rising ground whence they watched the battle in +growing dismay, the leaders of the enemy saw the maid and her +motions, and, concluding her an enchantress, whose were the airy +legions humiliating them, set spurs to their horses, made a +circuit, outflanked the king, and came down upon her. But suddenly +by her side stood a stalwart old man in the garb of a miner, who, +as the general rode at her, sword in hand, heaved his swift +mattock, and brought it down with such force on the forehead of his +charger, that he fell to the ground like a log. His rider shot +over his head and lay stunned. Had not the great red horse reared +and wheeled, he would have fallen beneath that of the general. + +With lifted sabre, one of his attendant officers rode at the miner. +But a mass of pigeons darted in the faces of him and his horse, and +the next moment he lay beside his commander. + +The rest of them turned and fled, pursued by the birds. + +'Ah, friend Peter!' said the maid; 'thou hast come as I told thee! +Welcome and thanks!' + +By this time the battle was over. The rout was general. The enemy +stormed back upon their own camp, with the beasts roaring in the +midst of them, and the king and his army, now reinforced by one, +pursuing. But presently the king drew rein. + +'Call off your hounds, Curdie, and let the pigeons do the rest,' he +shouted, and turned to see what had become of the princess. + +In full panic fled the invaders, sweeping down their tents, +stumbling over their baggage, trampling on their dead and wounded, +ceaselessly pursued and buffeted by the white-winged army of +heaven. Homeward they rushed the road they had come, straight for +the borders, many dropping from pure fatigue, and lying where they +fell. And still the pigeons were in their necks as they ran. At +length to the eyes of the king and his army nothing was visible +save a dust cloud below, and a bird cloud above. Before night the +bird cloud came back, flying high over Gwyntystorm. Sinking +swiftly, it disappeared among the ancient roofs of the palace. + + + +CHAPTER 34 +Judgement + + +The king and his army returned, bringing with them one prisoner +only, the lord chancellor. Curdie had dragged him from under a +fallen tent, not by the hand of a man, but by the foot of a mule. + +When they entered the city, it was still as the grave. The +citizens had fled home. 'We must submit,' they cried, 'or the king +and his demons will destroy us.' The king rode through the streets +in silence, ill-pleased with his people. But he stopped his horse +in the midst of the market place, and called, in a voice loud and +clear as the cry of a silver trumpet, 'Go and find your own. Bury +your dead, and bring home your wounded.' Then he turned him +gloomily to the palace. +just as they reached the gates, Peter, who, as they went, had been +telling his tale to Curdie, ended it with the words: + +'And so there I was, in the nick of time to save the two +princesses!' + +'The two princesses, Father! The one on the great red horse was +the housemaid,' said Curdie, and ran to open the gates for the +king. + +They found Derba returned before them, and already busy preparing +them food. The king put up his charger with his own hands, rubbed +him down, and fed him. + +When they had washed, and eaten and drunk, he called the colonel, +and told Curdie and the page to bring out the traitors and the +beasts, and attend him to the market place. + +By this time the people were crowding back into the city, bearing +their dead and wounded. And there was lamentation in Gwyntystorm, +for no one could comfort himself, and no one had any to comfort +him. The nation was victorious, but the people were conquered. + +The king stood in the centre of the market place, upon the steps of +the ancient cross. He had laid aside his helmet and put on his +crown, but he stood all armed beside, with his sword in his hand. +He called the people to him, and, for all the terror of the beasts, +they dared not disobey him. Those, even, who were carrying their +wounded laid them down, and drew near trembling. + +Then the king said to Curdie and the page: + +'Set the evil men before me.' + +He looked upon them for a moment in mingled anger and pity, then +turned to the people and said: + +'Behold your trust! Ye slaves, behold your leaders! I would have +freed you, but ye would not be free. Now shall ye be ruled with a +rod of iron, that ye may learn what freedom is, and love it and +seek it. These wretches I will send where they shall mislead you +no longer.' + +He made a sign to Curdie, who immediately brought up the +legserpent. To the body of the animal they bound the lord +chamberlain, speechless with horror. The butler began to shriek +and pray, but they bound him on the back of Clubhead. One after +another, upon the largest of the creatures they bound the whole +seven, each through the unveiling terror looking the villain he +was. Then said the king: + +'I thank you, my good beasts; and I hope to visit you ere long. +Take these evil men with you, and go to your place.' + +Like a whirlwind they were in the crowd, scattering it like dust. +Like hounds they rushed from the city, their burdens howling and +raving. + +What became of them I have never heard. + +Then the king turned once more to the people and said, 'Go to your +houses'; nor vouchsafed them another word. They crept home like +chidden hounds. + +The king returned to the palace. He made the colonel a duke, and +the page a knight, and Peter he appointed general of all his mines. +But to Curdie he said: + +'You are my own boy, Curdie. My child cannot choose but love you, +and when you are grown up - if you both will - you shall marry each +other, and be king and queen when I am gone. Till then be the +king's Curdie.' + +Irene held out her arms to Curdie. He raised her in his, and she +kissed him. + +'And my Curdie too!' she said. + +Thereafter the people called him Prince Conrad; but the king always +called him either just Curdie, or my miner boy. + +They sat down to supper, and Derba and the knight and the housemaid +waited, and Barbara sat at the king's left hand. The housemaid +poured out the wine; and as she poured for Curdie red wine that +foamed in the cup, as if glad to see the light whence it had been +banished so long, she looked him in the eyes. And Curdie started, +and sprang from his seat, and dropped on his knees, and burst into +tears. And the maid said with a smile, such as none but one could +smile: + +'Did I not tell you, Curdie, that it might be you would not know me +when next you saw me?' +Then she went from the room, and in a moment returned in royal +purple, with a crown of diamonds and rubies, from under which her +hair went flowing to the floor, all about her ruby- slippered feet. +Her face was radiant with joy, the joy overshadowed by a faint mist +as of unfulfilment. The king rose and kneeled on one knee before +her. All kneeled in like homage. Then the king would have yielded +her his royal chair. But she made them all sit down, and with her +own hands placed at the table seats for Derba and the page. Then +in ruby crown and royal purple she served them all. + + + +CHAPTER 35 +The End + +The king sent Curdie out into his dominions to search for men and +women that had human hands. And many such he found, honest and +true, and brought them to his master. So a new and upright court +was formed, and strength returned to the nation. + +But the exchequer was almost empty, for the evil men had squandered +everything, and the king hated taxes unwillingly paid. Then came +Curdie and said to the king that the city stood upon gold. And the +king sent for men wise in the ways of the earth, and they built +smelting furnaces, and Peter brought miners, and they mined the +gold, and smelted it, and the king coined it into money, and +therewith established things well in the land. + +The same day on which he found his boy, Peter set out to go home. +When he told the good news to Joan, his wife, she rose from her +chair and said, 'Let us go.' And they left the cottage, and +repaired to Gwyntystorm. And on a mountain above the city they +built themselves a warm house for their old age, high in the clear +air. + +As Peter mined one day, at the back of the king's wine Cellar, he +broke into a cavern crusted with gems, and much wealth flowed +therefrom, and the king used it wisely. + +Queen Irene - that was the right name of the old princess - was +thereafter seldom long absent from the palace. Once or twice when +she was missing, Barbara, who seemed to know of her sometimes when +nobody else had a notion whither she had gone, said she was with +the dear old Uglies in the wood. Curdie thought that perhaps her +business might be with others there as well. All the uppermost +rooms in the palace were left to her use, and when any one was in +need of her help, up thither he must go. But even when she was +there, he did not always succeed in finding her. She, however, +always knew that such a one had been looking for her. + +Curdie went to find her one day. As he ascended the last stair, to +meet him came the well-known scent of her roses; and when he opened +the door, lo! there was the same gorgeous room in which his touch +had been glorified by her fire! And there burned the fire - a huge +heap of red and white roses. Before the hearth stood the princess, +an old grey-haired woman, with Lina a little behind her, slowly +wagging her tail, and looking like a beast of prey that can hardly +so long restrain itself from springing as to be sure of its victim. +The queen was casting roses, more and more roses, upon the fire. +At last she turned and said, 'Now Lina!' - and Lina dashed +burrowing into the fire. There went up a black smoke and a dust, +and Lina was never more seen in the palace. + +Irene and Curdie were married. The old king died, and they were +king and queen. As long as they lived Gwyntystorm was a better +city, and good people grew in it. But they had no children, and +when they died the people chose a king. And the new king went +mining and mining in the rock under the city, and grew more and +more eager after the gold, and paid less and less heed to his +people. Rapidly they sank toward their old wickedness. But still +the king went on mining, and coining gold by the pailful, until the +people were worse even than in the old time. And so greedy was the +king after gold, that when at last the ore began to fail, he caused +the miners to reduce the pillars which Peter and they that followed +him had left standing to bear the city. And from the girth of an +oak of a thousand years, they chipped them down to that of a fir +tree of fifty. + +One day at noon, when life was at its highest, the whole city fell +with a roaring crash. The cries of men and the shrieks of women +went up with its dust, and then there was a great silence. + +Where the mighty rock once towered, crowded with homes and crowned +with a palace, now rushes and raves a stone-obstructed rapid of the +river. All around spreads a wilderness of wild deer, and the very +name of Gwyntystorm had ceased from the lips of men. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg Etext of The Princess and Curdie, + diff --git a/old/prcur10.zip b/old/prcur10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ef2972c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/prcur10.zip |