Golden heart, and other fairy stories — Part Two of GOLDEN HEART

An enormous hall met his eyes; bare rock formed its walls and ceiling and the ground under his feet was covered with fine sand.

From the sides of this place hung twisted shapes.

He could hardly see what they were.

First he thought that they must be great ropes of sea-weed, then human forms; grinning faces seemed to start from them at every side, and yet he could never really make out that they were the forms of either men or beasts, for, as each thing appeared to take some definite shape, it would speedily turn into something else, like the wild and fleeting images in a dream.

As he stood, the noise of the sea roaring underground in remote hollows of the rocks smote desolately on his ear, and, for a moment, the dreary sound made his heart sink in his body.

But he thought of the Princess, and courage leaped up in his soul.

[Illustration: A THING WHICH LOOKED LIKE A HUMAN FIGURE WAS LYING BY A FIRE]

A column of stone, reaching to the roof, stood in the middle of the cave, and, at its foot, was a thing which looked like a human figure lying by a fire.

He approached, thanking Heaven for the power of becoming invisible, and saw that he was in the presence of the witch.

By a happy chance she had overslept herself, and had not yet gone up to the Princess.

As he looked there was a stir in her recumbent form.

She rose, and, drawing off her left shoe, approached the wall.

“Left-foot shoe, left-foot shoe, Open, rock, and I’ll pass through,” she muttered, striking it.

Then the wall cracked open and she gathered her skirt more closely round her and disappeared through the opening, which closed behind her.

He paced up and down, straining his ears to catch any sound that might steal through some chink in the rock, and give him an idea of what was going on above.

But no sound came.

At last the wall opened and his enemy appeared.

An evil smile was on her face, and he guessed that she had been taunting her victim.

His blood boiled.

When the chasm closed, the hag, instead of replacing her shoe, drew off its fellow and, putting them both in a corner, flung herself down by the fire.

The Prince had not expected such luck and he bounded towards them.

At this she looked up quickly; he had forgotten, in his excitement, that, though invisible, his movements could be heard, and for a minute he stood waiting to see if she would notice the footprints he had made in the sand.

But after sitting erect to listen, she seemed re-assured and lay down, while he, pausing a little space ere he moved again, heard her breathing grow heavier and saw that she was falling asleep again over her fire.

Then he picked up her left shoe.

He advanced to the wall and struck it, saying the words he had heard her use.

It flew open before him and the fresh air rushed against his face.

With one backward glance at the sleeper he climbed the incline, and, in a moment, had wished himself visible again and was standing on the rock by the Princess.

Her eyes were fixed on his ship, but she turned on hearing a step.

Her face was almost fierce, for she expected nothing better than to meet the witch.

Then she saw the Ugly Prince and rose, with a cry, stretching out her hand to him.

Her great sorrow seemed to be looking out of her eyes, and the beauty of her face was so far beyond anything he had imagined that he stood before her dumbfounded, more like a culprit than the man who had fought his way to her through peril and fatigue.

He took her hand and pressed his lips upon it.

As he did so there was a rushing in the air, and the old cormorant, who had just returned from his fishing, began raining the blows of his heavy wings upon his shoulders.

He fought it off as well as he could with his left arm while he drew his sword, and, as the savage bird swung back to make a fresh swoop, the steel blade flashed and it fell dead on the rock at his feet.

The Princess covered her eyes; she almost sank upon the ground, but the Ugly Prince caught her in his arms.

“How can we escape?

How are we to reach the ship?

” she cried.

He drew out the Golden Heart.

The same tremor ran through it as it said: “Cut off the cormorant’s wings and strike them with the witch’s shoe.

They will fasten themselves upon your shoulders and you will be able to fly as well as the bird.

” The Prince obeyed, then he stood ready to leave for ever the scene of his conflict.

“Come,” he said to the Princess.

We must now return to the little boy, who had never left the deck all the hours his friend had been away.

As he saw him rise into the air with his living burden he clasped his hands, standing breathless until the cormorant’s wings had borne him over the strip of water.

His joy knew no bounds as he saw him land safely beside him, and he looked with admiration and awe upon the lovely Princess who had suffered so much.

“Who is this?

” she asked, pointing to the child.

“That is more than I can tell you,” said the Prince, smiling, “for I picked him out of the water.

But he is very dear to me all the same.

” “Shall I love you too?

” she said, looking down at him with her sweet, mysterious eyes.

“I have had no one to love for so very long.

” The Golden Heart was their guide, for it knew everything—even the way over the trackless seas—and soon the terrible rock was no more than a fast disappearing speck, far astern.

After a happy voyage they reached the country where the Princess’s father still reigned, an old man bowed down by grief.

When they got to the shore and the people saw that it was their own Princess who had returned and heard the tale of her captivity and rescue, their joy knew no bounds and they conducted the Ugly Prince and his crew with great rejoicings to the royal palace, which lay at some distance off.

Messengers were sent forward to the poor old King, who, in spite of age and infirmity, mounted his horse for the first time for many years and came out to meet them.

He could hardly believe the news, and, when the meeting was over and he had held his daughter in his arms and knew that it was no dream, but the real, happy truth, he turned to the Prince.

“I cannot speak to you now,” he said, “but to-morrow you must tell me the story with your own lips, and, were you to ask me for my kingdom, it should be yours.

” The next morning the Ugly Prince was summoned to the old man’s presence.

He told the story of the Princess’s rescue, making very light of his own brave deeds, but the King was not easily deceived; and, as he sent also for the little boy, he soon got at the whole truth.

“And now,” he said, at the end of the tale, “is there anything in the wide world that I can do for you?

My kingdom and all I have is yours if you will only take it.

Have you no wish—no matter what it may be—that I can gratify?

” “I have loved your daughter since the first moment that I saw her,” said the Ugly Prince.

* * * * * One evening the Ugly Prince and the Princess were walking on the terrace of the palace garden.

The sunset glowed along the western sky, the birds were twittering in the deepening silence, and the heavy scent of masses of roses which climbed over balconies and pillars steeped the air.

A

minstrel was singing softly inside one of the open windows, and his song reached them as they stood looking out over the balustrade on to the country lying spread before them.

“Do you remember,” said the Prince, “that, when you threw me the Golden Heart, you told me I should have to suffer almost more trouble than I could bear?

” “Yes,” she answered.

“Well,” continued he, “I nearly gave myself up for lost in the tunnel of rock; but, after all, I came safely through it.

And it was a small price to pay for this,” he added, taking her hand.

“How brave you are!

” said she.

He laughed.

“But now,” he said, “I cannot imagine anything happier than the present.

I have no wish unfulfilled but one, and that is to make you my wife, which I shall do in a few days.

” The Princess looked down.

“I have one wish ungratified,” she replied.

“But you have only to say it,” exclaimed he; “surely you know I would do anything for you—anything.

I promise it.

” “I can hardly ask you.

It would seem as though I did not trust you.

It troubles me very much,” she said, with tears in her eyes.

“Do not keep anything from me,” he implored.

“I cannot be content now until I know what it is.

You shall not go from here until you tell me.

” “If you would, only once, before our wedding-day, let me see your face.

” The Prince groaned.

“But you promised,” urged the Princess.

For a moment he hesitated, then he turned away and took off the black mask.

When he faced her again a shriek rang over the garden and she fell senseless.

He had just time to replace it before the King, alarmed by the sound, came out followed by several servants.

The Princess was carried into the palace and laid upon a couch, and, when many restoratives had been administered, she opened her eyes; but, on seeing her lover, an expression of terror came into her face and she fainted again.

The Prince withdrew, asking the King to go with him.

When the old man heard what had happened, he wrung his hands and begged him to refrain from seeing his daughter until the next morning; then he returned to her bedside, saying that he would come back on the following day and give him news of her.

The Ugly Prince spent most of the night in walking up and down his room;

the little boy, who had come to him as soon as he knew what had happened, did all he could to comfort him, and, at last, the unhappy lover fell into a heavy sleep with his hand clasped in that of the child, who refused to leave him, and who sat watching with his friend until he, too, became drowsy and lost consciousness.

It was almost noon when they were aroused by the sound of footsteps, and, looking up, saw the King.

“My son,” he said to the Prince, “I have come with weary tidings; my daughter has recovered; but early this morning she sent to me.

” He paused for a moment, and went on in a shaking voice.

“She implores you to release her from her promise to marry you.

She will give no reason for what she asks, and when I suggested that she should speak to you herself, she grew so pale that I feared she would faint again.

I reasoned with her, I prayed her to consider her words again, but all to no effect.

I knew not how to act.

She owes her very life to you.

I would compel her to fulfil her promise if I could force myself to do so, but alas!

alas!

I cannot when I see her in such a state!

” The Prince was standing before the weeping old man.

“And do you think I would accept such a sacrifice?

” he said, slowly.

The King made no reply, but covered his face.

There was a long silence.

Then the Ugly Prince spoke, and his voice seemed to the little boy as though it were miles away.

“Sire,” he said, “tell the Princess that my only wish is to serve her.

I

release her from this moment.

” Then the King went slowly away, and, as the curtain fell behind him, the Ugly Prince was left alone with the little boy.

He remembered what the Princess had told him when he took the Heart from her, and he knew that the time had come.

* * * * * When the King’s subjects heard that the marriage was not to be, they were sorely troubled, and gloom fell over the Palace.

The King refused to be comforted, and, when the Prince announced his coming departure, he begged for a last interview before he left.

“What you have told me about the Golden Heart is very wonderful,” he said.

“Could it be of no use now?

” “Nothing can be of any use,” sighed the Prince.

“It cannot alter my face.

” “But it seems to work miracles,” persisted the old man, “and one cannot tell how far its powers may extend.

” So they consulted the Golden Heart.

“There is,” said the voice, “in a far country beyond a vast desert, almost impossible to cross, a marsh traversed by a stream.

On the further bank of that stream, at a place where rises a tall crag like the entrance to a tomb, there grows a plant bearing a cluster of pale red berries.

It only shows itself once in a thousand years, and on this day three months the time for it to appear will be due.

You must reach the place on the evening before its appearance, and allow nothing to tempt you from the spot, for it grows up in one night, and lasts but a few hours.

When it has grown as high as your knee, break off the spike of berries, crush them in your hands, and anoint your face with the juice.

It has the power of restoring perfect beauty, as well as perfect health, and it can only benefit one person in a thousand years.

Hardly any one in the world has heard of its existence.

You must start at once, as the way is long, and you must go by the Great Gates, which are at the other side of the world, and which lead to the desert.

” That evening the Ugly Prince set out.

He took with him the witch’s shoe, and the old cormorant’s wings hung at his saddle; he also placed the three feathers in his cap.

Before he went he called the little boy.

“I am going on a long journey,” he said, “and it will be many months before I can return; you must be very good until I come back.

Stay here with the Princess.

If I never come back the King has promised that this palace shall be your home.

And now, my dear little child, my faithful friend, good-bye, for I must go.

Good-bye.

You will not forget me?

” The little boy clung round his neck till the servants came to tell the Prince that his horse was saddled; then he rushed up to the highest tower of the Palace, and, leaning far out of the window, watched the gallant figure riding away, as it seemed to him, into the sunset.

* * * * * It was in the eleventh week after his departure that the Ugly Prince drew near the Great Gates that lie at the other side of the world.

He had only one week left in which to cross the desert beyond them, and he saw, on approaching, that they were locked; he had not counted on such a possibility, and it was with a heavy heart that he marked how strong they were, and how they towered in the air above him.

As he dismounted to lead his horse nearer—for the animal looked with terrified eyes upon the huge bars through which the wind was humming and vibrating—something fell from the saddle.

It was the witch’s shoe.

He picked it up and ran to the Gates, striking the lock and saying: “Left-foot shoe, left-foot shoe, Open, Gates, and I’ll go through.

” They burst open, and he turned to re-mount his horse.

But the creature stood with planted fore-feet and quivering nostrils, and he saw that there was no time in which to urge him forward, as the Gates were closing again.

He tore the cormorant’s wings from where they hung on the saddle, together with his few provisions and a water-flask, and was just in time to rush through them before they swung together with a crash that rang through the air like thunder, and sent the frightened horse tearing over the plain.

Then he stood unhorsed and alone on the confines of the desert.

His only chance now lay in making use of the cormorant’s wings, which he had hitherto omitted to do, preferring to travel on horseback.

But he fastened them to his shoulders by the power of the magic shoe and toiled on, directed by the Golden Heart, going straight forward until his provisions were nearly done.

One morning he reached a green oasis on which rose a fountain, bubbling in a grove of feathery acacia trees, and, as he lay resting in the shade, he saw two birds sitting among the boughs and talking together.

Remembering the feathers in his cap, he wished to be invisible and to understand their language.

“Look at that cool water,” said one.

“When we have arranged our wings and tails a little after our flight, we will go down and drink.

We shall not get a chance again till we reach the stream flowing through the marsh land for which we are bound.

” “Very well,” replied the other, “and, after that, we will start at once, for I am anxious to get home.

I have not seen my family for an age, and I think it is really time I put in an appearance.

We can be there by nightfall.

” When the Prince heard this he resolved to follow them; and when the two birds had satisfied their thirst and set off on their journey, he spread his wings and sailed with rapid strokes after them.

“What an odd rushing there is in the air beside us,” observed one; “the wind must be going to change.

” By the time it was dark they entered the marsh land and saw a glimmer of the stream for which the Prince was looking.

In due time they flew across it, and he alighted on the further bank and dropped his wings while he sat down to rest.

His hopes were high as he thought of his lost Princess—lost perhaps no longer—and he anticipated the moment of finding the plant with joy almost amounting to dread.

He rose to his feet and wished for the power of seeing in the dark.

He saw that he stood in the midst of so wonderful a piece of scenery that he could hardly believe himself awake.

Just in front of him appeared the rock which the Golden Heart had described as being like the entrance to a tomb.

It rose upwards out of a deep, dark pool, and a great star which stood in silver radiance over the summit threw a long steel-blue reflection trailing across the silent water.

Down the face of the rock, and all round on a tangle of low bushes which closed him in on every side, hung thick wreaths of white convolvulus; strange lights flashed in and out among the heavy foliage, and from the blossoms rolled drops of scented dew like the tears of a weeping enchantress.

The air was faint with enchantment; the Ugly Prince felt a languor creeping over his body.

His senses seemed to be fading from him, and, fearing that he might be overcome by the strange atmosphere of the place, he dashed through the bushes towards an open space not far off.

There his eyes fell on a tall, solitary plant growing in the very centre of the clearing, and perceiving it to be none other than the object of his search, he threw himself upon the ground beside it, took the Golden Heart from his bosom and pressed it to his lips, covering it with passionate kisses.

His journey was done, his troubles ended; he had now only to wait till the plant had grown as high as his knee to bathe his face in the juice of the berries and all would be well.

He would go back across the desert, through the Great Gates and over the world to his Princess’s kingdom, a changed man, with his happiness lying before him.

He pictured the joy of the King, the delight of the faithful little boy who awaited him, and the clinging arms of his adored Princess, as he lay hour after hour beside the green stem and watched it grow taller and saw the berries begin to take shape and colour.

At last, it had grown almost to the height of his knee, and, as he sat waiting in the breaking daylight for the moment when he should pluck his treasure, the Prince heard footsteps behind him, and, springing to his feet, beheld a tattered figure which started on seeing him, and then, with a long cry, fell prostrate upon the earth.

In a moment he was beside it and raising in his arms a man still young, but so bowed and emaciated by illness and trouble, that he seemed scarcely able to stand.

“Leave me!

leave me!

” he cried, as the Ugly Prince held him in the grasp of his strong arms.

“What brings you here?

Have you, too, come for the plant—the magic plant?

” “I have,” said the Prince firmly.

The unhappy man dropped his hands.

“Then I am too late,” he cried, “and I must die—for what can I do against _you_?

” And he glanced from his own trembling form to the straight, strong limbs of the Ugly Prince.

And he bowed his head and wept till the Prince’s heart bled to hear him.

“I beseech you, stop your tears,” he said kindly, “and tell me what has brought you here?

” As he spoke these words his breath almost stopped, for he foresaw, dawning on the very horizon of his mind, the vague outlines of a possible sacrifice, so great, so overwhelming, that he hardly dared to put it into thoughts, and yet—it was there.

“I have come,” said the stranger, “from a long, long distance and crossed the desert on foot.

See my feet, how they are bruised.

My journey has taken two years (for I am a poor man and must travel as best I may) and, at times, I have hardly hoped to live to the end; for I am suffering from a slow, fatal disease.

I have tried every cure in vain, and have been told by a learned magician to seek out this plant as a last hope of life.

I have a wife whose whole heart is bound up in mine, and little children.

Their hopes have been centred in me through these sad years since I left them to begin my journey.

I shall never see them again, and they will go on, day by day, hoping for my return.

But that will never be now.

That is my history.

And you, why are you here?

What is yours?

” For answer, the Prince drew off his mask.

“That is mine,” he said.

His companion recoiled from him, shuddering.

The two men remained gazing dumbly upon each other; then the Ugly Prince broke the silence.

“We are in the most horrible position,” he said, “that two miserable men have ever been placed in.

Look,” and he pointed to the now fully-developed plant, “in a few minutes one of us will have his hopes fulfilled, and one of us will be in despair.

Let us suppose for a moment that I am that unhappy man and that you, in your good fortune, will grant me a favour.

Let me have a little space in which to think it all over.

Give me your word to hold your hand from plucking the berries while I try to face this trial and make up my mind to what is coming.

Should _I_ take the golden chance that lies here for one of us, a few moments of respite will do you no injury; and, should _you_ profit by it, your happiness will be none the less sweet for having granted the prayer of a man into whose life no joy can ever shine again.

Will you do this?

” The man looked at him narrowly.

“I am in your power,” he said, “for you are the stronger.

” “Let that go for nothing,” answered the Prince, waving his hand impatiently.

“I shall leave you alone.

I want your word that you will do nothing till I come back.

” “I promise it,” replied the stranger.

And the Ugly Prince went, leaving the black mask lying at his feet.

He entered a grove of trees which stood near, and flung his arms round the stem of a tall ash, pressing his unmasked face against the bark;

dreadful thoughts assailed him on every side.

He had only to go back and drive his sword into that powerless body and the happiness which had seemed so real a short time ago would still be his.

None could see the deed or tell of it.

His mind was as though filled with evil mists, and, above them, rose the alluring form of his Princess, golden-haired, white-armed, beckoning.

But he thrust her from him.

No, such a thing could not be.

Better to die a thousand times than to sink into such dishonour as that.

And if he relinquished his chance?

If he were to give up to that suffering mortal the thing that he had striven and toiled for during the two years through which he had dragged his poor aching limbs to this spot, what then?

Whose happiness would he destroy by so doing?

Not the Princess’s, certainly.

She had given him up of her free will, had shrunk from the sight of him and the thought of becoming his wife.

The King, her father, would sorrow indeed, but he would still have his daughter.

The little boy would welcome him back should he return as he had left him.

No, it would be his loss alone.

He thought of that evening in the Palace garden, his last evening of happiness.

He saw it all again, the golden sky, the roses, the far-stretching landscape, and he felt again the soft hand of his love clinging to his arm as they talked together.

He groaned, and, as he thought of these things, some words came back to his memory, words he had remembered on that last happy evening, words which had once been spoken by the Princess when she threw him the Golden Heart.

“_If you take it, it will bring you pain and sorrow, perhaps more than you can bear.

Can you really accept it?

Are you willing to take the trouble that must come?

_” He had not realised them then.

Once more they had returned to his mind when she asked him to release her, and he had then imagined that he understood them.

He understood them now.

And his rival?

Perhaps he adored that wife as he himself had adored, and did adore, his lost love.

And the wife, to whom his own success would mean a life-long grief?

He tried to put himself in the unhappy man’s place.

He tried to suppose that the Princess was waiting for him, that she was sitting watching as this woman watched.

What should he feel if another and a stronger hand were to grasp the prize upon which all their hopes of meeting depended?

And the little children?

A great lump rose in his throat and a hand seemed to clutch at his heartstrings; he looked up at the early mist rolling away from stream and plain, and a load of black temptation lifted heavily from his bursting heart.

The stranger stood waiting a little way off; he approached him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Go!

” he said, pointing to the plant.

“It is yours.

Take it.

I give up my claim freely.

” A few minutes more and he was lying on the earth near the still pool he had seen the night before, his cheek resting on the cool moss, trying to realise and accept the loveless life which was all he had now left.

Every hope was gone and the future lay before him like the vast, sterile desert he had lately crossed, bare and bleak.

There was nothing to live for now, nothing.

The fact rushed over him in its full meaning, and for the first time since his boyhood he burst into tears and sobbed like a little child.

* * * * * After a while he remembered the mask which lay on the grass where he had left it.

There was nothing for him to do but resume it and go back to the world with his old trouble unchanged; but, before rising, he went to bathe his heated eyes in the water and he leaned over the brink.

Just as he put in his hand he saw that another face was looking up at him It startled him.

Was it some poor, drowned man who lay staring up at the sky?

Impossible, surely.

None knew of this place but himself and that one stranger, and, moreover, there was no sign of death in those living eyes that met his own so fearlessly.

He plunged down his hand and it only touched the bed of the pool; the water lay deep and still but for the ripples which his action had stirred into widening rings.

He was simply bewildered.

Still gazing downwards he drew his hand over his eyes, thinking they must be bewitched, and, as he did so, a hand passed over the face in the water.

It could not be his own.

He laughed bitterly at the idea.

It had no resemblance to himself, and was the face of a handsome man, not a monster whose very look was unendurable.

Thinking that he must be going mad, he felt the Golden Heart beating and fluttering against his breast.

He wondered that he had forgotten it for so long as he took it out.

“Am I crazed?

” he asked excitedly.

“What is this illusion?

” “It is no illusion,” replied the voice, “but the truth.

That face looking from the water is your own.

Look once more, for the ripples have ceased.

” The Prince obeyed.

He saw the most noble countenance that it had ever entered his mind to imagine; no defect was there, no feature which was not perfection, and over all was an expression of such sublime grandeur, strength, and fortitude, that the Ugly Prince, ugly no longer, drew back, almost awed by what he saw.

“It is only the reflection of your own great soul,” said the voice—and it seemed to fill the air around him—“what you see is the beauty of honour and truth, of courage and sacrifice, and there is nothing which can be compared to it in the whole world.

Now rise, for you must go from here and begin your homeward journey.

Go back to reap the reward which is awaiting you, for there is no reward too great for such as you.

” * * * * * So the Prince went.

The cormorant’s wings bore him safely over the desert, and the witch’s shoe opened for him the Great Gates.

Once through them, he procured himself a horse, and at last reached the borders of the kingdom where his heart lay; here he proceeded more slowly, only journeying by night, as he wished no one to see him who might tell the Princess of his return.

One morning early the little boy rose and went, as he always did, to a high turret in the palace to look down the road leading to the nearest city, and to see whether his Prince was coming home.

As he sat with the morning breeze lifting his hair, straining his eyes towards the white road which lay between the ripening corn-fields, he saw a solitary horseman approaching, and, in great excitement, he watched him as he advanced.

When he was still some way off, the rider put his horse to a gallop, waving his hand, and the child, doubting no longer, rushed at the top of his speed down the turret stair, through the courtyard gate, across the drawbridge, and down the road till he reached the horse’s side and clung, transported with joy, to the stirrup.

The Prince stooped and lifted him into the saddle before him.