Andrew Lang_Fairy Book 03 (5 page)

'Oh! I promise that willingly,' said the page.

At this moment Turritella appeared, and at the first sight of the
savoury pie, with the pretty little birds all singing and
chattering, she cried:—

'That is an admirable pie, little kitchen-maid. Pray what will
you take for it?'

'The usual price,' she answered. 'To sleep once more in the
Chamber of Echoes.'

'By all means, only give me the pie,' said the greedy Turritella.
And when night was come, Queen Fiordelisa waited until she
thought everybody in the palace would be asleep, and then began
to lament as before.

'Ah, Charming!' she said, 'what have I ever done that you should
forsake me and marry Turritella? If you could only know all I
have suffered, and what a weary way I have come to seek you.'

Now the page had faithfully kept his word, and given King
Charming a glass of water instead of his usual sleeping draught,
so there he lay wide awake, and heard every word Fiordelisa said,
and even recognised her voice, though he could not tell where it
came from.

'Ah, Princess!' he said, 'how could you betray me to our cruel
enemies when I loved you so dearly?'

Fiordelisa heard him, and answered quickly:

'Find out the little kitchen-maid, and she will explain
everything.'

Then the King in a great hurry sent for his pages and said:

'If you can find the little kitchen-maid, bring her to me at
once.'

'Nothing could be easier, Sire,' they answered, 'for she is in
the Chamber of Echoes.'

The King was very much puzzled when he heard this. How could the
lovely Princess Fiordelisa be a little kitchen-maid? or how could
a little kitchen-maid have Fiordelisa's own voice? So he dressed
hastily, and ran down a little secret staircase which led to the
Chamber of Echoes. There, upon a heap of soft cushions, sat his
lovely Princess. She had laid aside all her ugly disguises and
wore a white silken robe, and her golden hair shone in the soft
lamp-light. The King was overjoyed at the sight, and rushed to
throw himself at her feet, and asked her a thousand questions
without giving her time to answer one. Fiordelisa was equally
happy to be with him once more, and nothing troubled them but the
remembrance of the Fairy Mazilla. But at this moment in came the
Enchanter, and with him a famous Fairy, the same in fact who had
given Fiordelisa the eggs. After greeting the King and Queen,
they said that as they were united in wishing to help King
Charming, the Fairy Mazilla had no longer any power against him,
and he might marry Fiordelisa as soon as he pleased. The King's
joy may be imagined, and as soon as it was day the news was
spread through the palace, and everybody who saw Fiordelisa loved
her directly. When Turritella heard what had happened she came
running to the King, and when she saw Fiordelisa with him she was
terribly angry, but before she could say a word the Enchanter and
the Fairy changed her into a big brown owl, and she floated away
out of one of the palace windows, hooting dismally. Then the
wedding was held with great splendour, and King Charming and
Queen Fiordelisa lived happily ever after.

L'Oiseau Bleu. Par Mme. d'Aulnoy.

Once upon a time there was a handsome black Spanish hen, who had
a large brood of chickens. They were all fine, plump little
birds, except the youngest, who was quite unlike his brothers and
sisters. Indeed, he was such a strange, queer-looking creature,
that when he first chipped his shell his mother could scarcely
believe her eyes, he was so different from the twelve other
fluffy, downy, soft little chicks who nestled under her wings.
This one looked just as if he had been cut in two. He had only
one leg, and one wing, and one eye, and he had half a head and
half a beak. His mother shook her head sadly as she looked at him
and said:

'My youngest born is only a half-chick. He can never grow up a
tall handsome cock like his brothers. They will go out into the
world and rule over poultry yards of their own; but this poor
little fellow will always have to stay at home with his mother.'
And she called him Medio Pollito, which is Spanish for
half-chick.

Now though Medio Pollito was such an odd, helpless-looking little
thing, his mother soon found that he was not at all willing to
remain under her wing and protection. Indeed, in character he was
as unlike his brothers and sisters as he was in appearance. They
were good, obedient chickens, and when the old hen chicked after
them, they chirped and ran back to her side. But Medio Pollito
had a roving spirit in spite of his one leg, and when his mother
called to him to return to the coop, he pretended that he could
not hear, because he had only one ear.

When she took the whole family out for a walk in the fields,
Medio Pollito would hop away by himself, and hide among the
Indian corn. Many an anxious minute his brothers and sisters had
looking for him, while his mother ran to and fro cackling in fear
and dismay.

As he grew older he became more self-willed and disobedient, and
his manner to his mother was often very rude, and his temper to
the other chickens very disagreeable.

One day he had been out for a longer expedition than usual in the
fields. On his return he strutted up to his mother with the
peculiar little hop and kick which was his way of walking, and
cocking his one eye at her in a very bold way he said:

'Mother, I am tired of this life in a dull farmyard, with nothing
but a dreary maize field to look at. I'm off to Madrid to see the
King.'

'To Madrid, Medio Pollito!' exclaimed his mother; 'why, you silly
chick, it would be a long journey for a grown-up cock, and a poor
little thing like you would be tired out before you had gone half
the distance. No, no, stay at home with your mother, and some
day, when you are bigger, we will go a little journey together.'

But Medio Pollito had made up his mind, and he would not listen
to his mother's advice, nor to the prayers and entreaties of his
brothers and sisters.

'What is the use of our all crowding each other up in this poky
little place?' he said. 'When I have a fine courtyard of my own
at the King's palace, I shall perhaps ask some of you to come and
pay me a short visit,' and scarcely waiting to say good-bye to
his family, away he stumped down the high road that led to
Madrid.

'Be sure that you are kind and civil to everyone you meet,'
called his mother, running after him; but he was in such a hurry
to be off, that he did not wait to answer her, or even to look
back.

A little later in the day, as he was taking a short cut through a
field, he passed a stream. Now the stream was all choked up, and
overgrown with weeds and water-plants, so that its waters could
not flow freely.

'Oh! Medio Pollito,' it cried, as the half-chick hopped along its
banks, 'do come and help me by clearing away these weeds.'

'Help you, indeed!' exclaimed Medio Pollito, tossing his head,
and shaking the few feathers in his tail. 'Do you think I have
nothing to do but to waste my time on such trifles? Help
yourself, and don't trouble busy travellers. I am off to Madrid
to see the King,' and hoppity-kick, hoppity-kick, away stumped
Medio Pollito.

A little later he came to a fire that had been left by some
gipsies in a wood. It was burning very low, and would soon be
out.

'Oh! Medio Pollito,' cried the fire, in a weak, wavering voice as
the half-chick approached, 'in a few minutes I shall go quite
out, unless you put some sticks and dry leaves upon me. Do help
me, or I shall die!'

'Help you, indeed!' answered Medio Pollito. 'I have other things
to do. Gather sticks for yourself, and don't trouble me. I am off
to Madrid to see the King,' and hoppity-kick, hoppity-kick, away
stumped Medio Pollito.

The next morning, as he was getting near Madrid, he passed a
large chestnut tree, in whose branches the wind was caught and
entangled. 'Oh! Medio Pollito,' called the wind, 'do hop up here,
and help me to get free of these branches. I cannot come away,
and it is so uncomfortable.'

'It is your own fault for going there,' answered Medio Pollito.
'I can't waste all my morning stopping here to help you. Just
shake yourself off, and don't hinder me, for I am off to Madrid
to see the King,' and hoppity-kick, hoppity-kick, away stumped
Medio Pollito in great glee, for the towers and roofs of Madrid
were now in sight. When he entered the town he saw before him a
great splendid house, with soldiers standing before the gates.
This he knew must be the King's palace, and he determined to hop
up to the front gate and wait there until the King came out. But
as he was hopping past one of the back windows the King's cook
saw him:

'Here is the very thing I want,' he exclaimed, 'for the King has
just sent a message to say that he must have chicken broth for
his dinner,' and opening the window he stretched out his arm,
caught Medio Pollito, and popped him into the broth-pot that was
standing near the fire. Oh! how wet and clammy the water felt as
it went over Medio Pollito's head, making his feathers cling to
his side.

'Water, water!' he cried in his despair, 'do have pity upon me
and do not wet me like this.'

'Ah! Medio Pollito,' replied the water, 'you would not help me
when I was a little stream away on the fields, now you must be
punished.'

Then the fire began to burn and scald Medio Pollito, and he
danced and hopped from one side of the pot to the other, trying
to get away from the heat, and crying out in pain:

Fire, fire! do not scorch me like this; you can't think how it
hurts.'

'Ah! Medio Pollito,' answered the fire, 'you would not help me
when I was dying away in the wood. You are being punished.'

At last, just when the pain was so great that Medio Pollito
thought he must die, the cook lifted up the lid of the pot to see
if the broth was ready for the King's dinner.

'Look here!' he cried in horror, 'this chicken is quite useless.
It is burnt to a cinder. I can't send it up to the royal table;'
and opening the window he threw Medio Pollito out into the
street. But the wind caught him up, and whirled him through the
air so quickly that Medio Pollito could scarcely breathe, and his
heart beat against his side till he thought it would break.

'Oh, wind!' at last he gasped out, 'if you hurry me along like
this you will kill me. Do let me rest a moment, or—' but he was
so breathless that he could not finish his sentence.

'Ah! Medio Pollito,' replied the wind, 'when I was caught in the
branches of the chestnut tree you would not help me; now you are
punished.' And he swirled Medio Pollito over the roofs of the
houses till they reached the highest church in the town, and
there he left him fastened to the top of the steeple.

And there stands Medio Pollito to this day. And if you go to
Madrid, and walk through the streets till you come to the highest
church, you will see Medio Pollito perched on his one leg on the
steeple, with his one wing drooping at his side, and gazing sadly
out of his one eye over the town.

Spanish Tradition.

Caliph Chasid, of Bagdad, was resting comfortably on his divan one
fine afternoon. He was smoking a long pipe, and from time to time
he sipped a little coffee which a slave handed to him, and after
each sip he stroked his long beard with an air of enjoyment. In
short, anyone could see that the Caliph was in an excellent
humour. This was, in fact, the best time of day in which to
approach him, for just now he was pretty sure to be both affable
and in good spirits, and for this reason the Grand Vizier Mansor
always chose this hour in which to pay his daily visit.

He arrived as usual this afternoon, but, contrary to his usual
custom, with an anxious face. The Caliph withdrew his pipe for a
moment from his lips and asked, 'Why do you look so anxious, Grand
Vizier?'

The Grand Vizier crossed his arms on his breast and bent low
before his master as he answered:

'Oh, my Lord! whether my countenance be anxious or not I know not,
but down below, in the court of the palace, is a pedlar with such
beautiful things that I cannot help feeling annoyed at having so
little money to spare.'

The Caliph, who had wished for some time past to give his Grand
Vizier a present, ordered his black slave to bring the pedlar
before him at once. The slave soon returned, followed by the
pedlar, a short stout man with a swarthy face, and dressed in very
ragged clothes. He carried a box containing all manner of wares—
strings of pearls, rings, richly mounted pistols, goblets, and
combs. The Caliph and his Vizier inspected everything, and the
Caliph chose some handsome pistols for himself and Mansor, and a
jewelled comb for the Vizier's wife. Just as the pedlar was about
to close his box, the Caliph noticed a small drawer, and asked if
there was anything else in it for sale. The pedlar opened the
drawer and showed them a box containing a black powder, and a
scroll written in strange characters, which neither the Caliph nor
the Mansor could read.

'I got these two articles from a merchant who had picked them up
in the street at Mecca,' said the pedlar. 'I do not know what they
may contain, but as they are of no use to me, you are welcome to
have them for a trifle.'

The Caliph, who liked to have old manuscripts in his library, even
though he could not read them, purchased the scroll and the box,
and dismissed the pedlar. Then, being anxious to know what might
be the contents of the scroll, he asked the Vizier if he did not
know of anyone who might be able to decipher it.

'Most gracious Lord and master,' replied the Vizier, 'near the
great Mosque lives a man called Selim the learned, who knows every
language under the sun. Send for him; it may be that he will be
able to interpret these mysterious characters.'