A Double Story, Page 2

  II.

  The fact, as is plain, was, that the princess had disappeared in thefolds of the wise woman's cloak. When she rushed from the room, thewise woman caught her to her bosom and flung the black garment aroundher. The princess struggled wildly, for she was in fierce terror, andscreamed as loud as choking fright would permit her; but her father,standing in the door, and looking down upon the wise woman, saw never amovement of the cloak, so tight was she held by her captor. He wasindeed aware of a most angry crying, which reminded him of hisdaughter; but it sounded to him so far away, that he took it for thepassion of some child in the street, outside the palace-gates. Hence,unchallenged, the wise woman carried the princess down the marblestairs, out at the palace-door, down a great flight of steps outside,across a paved court, through the brazen gates, along half-rousedstreets where people were opening their shops, through the huge gatesof the city, and out into the wide road, vanishing northwards; theprincess struggling and screaming all the time, and the wise womanholding her tight. When at length she was too tired to struggle orscream any more, the wise woman unfolded her cloak, and set her down;and the princess saw the light and opened her swollen eyelids. Therewas nothing in sight that she had ever seen before. City and palace haddisappeared. They were upon a wide road going straight on, with a ditchon each side of it, that behind them widened into the great moatsurrounding the city. She cast up a terrified look into the wisewoman's face, that gazed down upon her gravely and kindly. Now theprincess did not in the least understand kindness. She always took itfor a sign either of partiality or fear. So when the wise woman lookedkindly upon her, she rushed at her, butting with her head like a ram:but the folds of the cloak had closed around the wise woman; and, whenthe princess ran against it, she found it hard as the cloak of a bronzestatue, and fell back upon the road with a great bruise on her head.The wise woman lifted her again, and put her once more under the cloak,where she fell asleep, and where she awoke again only to find that shewas still being carried on and on.

  When at length the wise woman again stopped and set her down, she sawaround her a bright moonlit night, on a wide heath, solitary andhouseless. Here she felt more frightened than before; nor was herterror assuaged when, looking up, she saw a stern, immovablecountenance, with cold eyes fixedly regarding her. All she knew of theworld being derived from nursery-tales, she concluded that the wisewoman was an ogress, carrying her home to eat her.

  I have already said that the princess was, at this time of her life,such a low-minded creature, that severity had greater influence overher than kindness. She understood terror better far than tenderness.When the wise woman looked at her thus, she fell on her knees, and heldup her hands to her, crying,--

  "Oh, don't eat me! don't eat me!"

  Now this being the best SHE could do, it was a sign she was a lowcreature. Think of it--to kick at kindness, and kneel from terror. Butthe sternness on the face of the wise woman came from the same heartand the same feeling as the kindness that had shone from it before. Theonly thing that could save the princess from her hatefulness, was thatshe should be made to mind somebody else than her own miserableSomebody.

  Without saying a word, the wise woman reached down her hand, took oneof Rosamond's, and, lifting her to her feet, led her along through themoonlight. Every now and then a gush of obstinacy would well up in theheart of the princess, and she would give a great ill-tempered tug, andpull her hand away; but then the wise woman would gaze down upon herwith such a look, that she instantly sought again the hand she hadrejected, in pure terror lest she should be eaten upon the spot. And sothey would walk on again; and when the wind blew the folds of the cloakagainst the princess, she found them soft as her mother's camel-hairshawl.

  After a little while the wise woman began to sing to her, and theprincess could not help listening; for the soft wind amongst the lowdry bushes of the heath, the rustle of their own steps, and thetrailing of the wise woman's cloak, were the only sounds beside.

  And this is the song she sang:--

  Out in the cold, With a thin-worn fold Of withered gold Around her rolled, Hangs in the air the weary moon. She is old, old, old; And her bones all cold, And her tales all told, And her things all sold, And she has no breath to croon.

  Like a castaway clout, She is quite shut out! She might call and shout, But no one about Would ever call back, "Who's there?" There is never a hut, Not a door to shut, Not a footpath or rut, Long road or short cut, Leading to anywhere!

  She is all alone Like a dog-picked bone, The poor old crone! She fain would groan, But she cannot find the breath. She once had a fire; But she built it no higher, And only sat nigher Till she saw it expire; And now she is cold as death.

  She never will smile All the lonesome while. Oh the mile after mile, And never a stile! And never a tree or a stone! She has not a tear: Afar and anear It is all so drear, But she does not care, Her heart is as dry as a bone.

  None to come near her! No one to cheer her! No one to jeer her! No one to hear her! Not a thing to lift and hold! She is always awake, But her heart will not break: She can only quake, Shiver, and shake: The old woman is very cold.

  As strange as the song, was the crooning wailing tune that the wisewoman sung. At the first note almost, you would have thought she wantedto frighten the princess; and so indeed she did. For when people WILLbe naughty, they have to be frightened, and they are not expected tolike it. The princess grew angry, pulled her hand away, and cried,--

  "YOU are the ugly old woman. I hate you!"

  Therewith she stood still, expecting the wise woman to stop also,perhaps coax her to go on: if she did, she was determined not to move astep. But the wise woman never even looked about: she kept walking onsteadily, the same pace as before. Little Obstinate thought forcertain she would turn; for she regarded herself as much too preciousto be left behind. But on and on the wise woman went, until she hadvanished away in the dim moonlight. Then all at once the princessperceived that she was left alone with the moon, looking down on herfrom the height of her loneliness. She was horribly frightened, andbegan to run after the wise woman, calling aloud. But the song she hadjust heard came back to the sound of her own running feet,--

  All all alone, Like a dog-picked bone!

  and again,--

  She might call and shout, And no one about Would ever call back, "Who's there?"

  and she screamed as she ran. How she wished she knew the old woman'sname, that she might call it after her through the moonlight!

  But the wise woman had, in truth, heard the first sound of her runningfeet, and stopped and turned, waiting. What with running and crying,however, and a fall or two as she ran, the princess never saw her untilshe fell right into her arms--and the same moment into a fresh rage;for as soon as any trouble was over the princess was always ready tobegin another. The wise woman therefore pushed her away, and walked on;while the princess ran scolding and storming after her. She had to runtill, from very fatigue, her rudeness ceased. Her heart gave way; sheburst into tears, and ran on silently weeping.

  A minute more and the wise woman stooped, and lifting her in her arms,folded her cloak around her. Instantly she fell asleep, and slept assoft and as soundly as if she had been in her own bed. She slept tillthe moon went down; she slept till the sun rose up; she slept till heclimbed the topmost sky; she slept till he went down again, and thepoor old moon came peaking and peering out once more: and all that timethe wise woman went walking on and on very fast. And now they hadreached a spot where a few fir-trees came to meet them through themoonlight.

  At the same time the princess awaked, and popping her head out betweenthe folds of the wise woman's cloak--a very ugly little owlet shelooked--saw that th
ey were entering the wood. Now there is somethingawful about every wood, especially in the moonlight; and perhaps afir-wood is more awful than other woods. For one thing, it lets alittle more light through, rendering the darkness a little morevisible, as it were; and then the trees go stretching away up towardsthe moon, and look as if they cared nothing about the creatures belowthem--not like the broad trees with soft wide leaves that, in thedarkness even, look sheltering. So the princess is not to be blamedthat she was very much frightened. She is hardly to be blamed eitherthat, assured the wise woman was an ogress carrying her to her castleto eat her up, she began again to kick and scream violently, as thoseof my readers who are of the same sort as herself will consider theright and natural thing to do. The wrong in her was this--that she hadled such a bad life, that she did not know a good woman when she sawher; took her for one like herself, even after she had slept in herarms.

  Immediately the wise woman set her down, and, walking on, within a fewpaces vanished among the trees. Then the cries of the princess rent theair, but the fir-trees never heeded her; not one of their hard littleneedles gave a single shiver for all the noise she made. But there werecreatures in the forest who were soon quite as much interested in hercries as the fir-trees were indifferent to them. They began to hearkenand howl and snuff about, and run hither and thither, and grin withtheir white teeth, and light up the green lamps in their eyes. In aminute or two a whole army of wolves and hyenas were rushing from allquarters through the pillar like stems of the fir-trees, to the placewhere she stood calling them, without knowing it. The noise she madeherself, however, prevented her from hearing either their howls or thesoft pattering of their many trampling feet as they bounded over thefallen fir needles and cones.

  One huge old wolf had outsped the rest--not that he could run faster,but that from experience he could more exactly judge whence the criescame, and as he shot through the wood, she caught sight at last of hislamping eyes coming swiftly nearer and nearer. Terror silenced her. Shestood with her mouth open, as if she were going to eat the wolf, butshe had no breath to scream with, and her tongue curled up in her mouthlike a withered and frozen leaf. She could do nothing but stare at thecoming monster. And now he was taking a few shorter bounds, measuringthe distance for the one final leap that should bring him upon her,when out stepped the wise woman from behind the very tree by which shehad set the princess down, caught the wolf by the throat half-way inhis last spring, shook him once, and threw him from her dead. Then sheturned towards the princess, who flung herself into her arms, and wasinstantly lapped in the folds of her cloak.

  But now the huge army of wolves and hyenas had rushed like a sea aroundthem, whose waves leaped with hoarse roar and hollow yell up againstthe wise woman. But she, like a strong stately vessel, moved unhurtthrough the midst of them. Ever as they leaped against her cloak, theydropped and slunk away back through the crowd. Others ever succeeded,and ever in their turn fell, and drew back confounded. For some timeshe walked on attended and assailed on all sides by the howling pack.Suddenly they turned and swept away, vanishing in the depths of theforest. She neither slackened nor hastened her step, but went walkingon as before.

  In a little while she unfolded her cloak, and let the princess lookout. The firs had ceased; and they were on a lofty height of moorland,stony and bare and dry, with tufts of heather and a few small plantshere and there. About the heath, on every side, lay the forest, lookingin the moonlight like a cloud; and above the forest, like the shavencrown of a monk, rose the bare moor over which they were walking.Presently, a little way in front of them, the princess espied awhitewashed cottage, gleaming in the moon. As they came nearer, she sawthat the roof was covered with thatch, over which the moss had growngreen. It was a very simple, humble place, not in the least terrible tolook at, and yet, as soon as she saw it, her fear again awoke, andalways, as soon as her fear awoke, the trust of the princess fell intoa dead sleep. Foolish and useless as she might by this time have knownit, she once more began kicking and screaming, whereupon, yet oncemore, the wise woman set her down on the heath, a few yards from theback of the cottage, and saying only, "No one ever gets into my housewho does not knock at the door, and ask to come in," disappeared roundthe corner of the cottage, leaving the princess alone with themoon--two white faces in the cone of the night.