CHAPTER TWO
The sun was already high when they sat down under a big tree to eat their breakfast, and just then an old woman came up. She was very old and bent, and walked with a crutch; she had a bundle of sticks she had picked up in the wood on her back, and her apron was fastened of dried fern and some willow twigs. When she got near them, her foot slipped and she fell with a loud shriek; the poor old woman had broken her leg.
Quatre wanted to carry her home, but the stranger opened his knapsack, and took out a little pot of salve, which he said would make her leg well directly, and she would be able to walk home as well as if she had never broken it. But in payment for it he wanted the three bundles of fern she had in her apron.
"That is very good payment," said the old woman, nodding her head rather oddly; she did not want to part with her three bundles of fern, but it was not so pleasant to lie there with a broken leg, so she gave him the bundles. As soon as he had rubbed on the salve, the old woman got up and walked away faster than she had been able to do before. This was all the effect of the salve; but no such ointment as this was to be had at any chemists.
"Whatever do you want with those bundles of fern?" said Quatre to his companion.
"They make very good birch rods, and they are just what I like. I am a very strange fellow you know!"
Then they walked on for a good bit.
"What a storm is drawing up there!" said Quatre, pointing before him; "those are terribly black clouds."
"No," said his fellow-traveler, "those are not clouds; they are mountains, beautifully high mountains, where you can get right above the clouds into the fresh air. It is splendid up there! Tomorrow we shall just reach them."
They were not so near, however, as they seemed to be; it took them a whole day to reach the mountains, where the dark forests grew right up towards the sky, and where there were great boulders as big as houses, or even towns. It would be a heavy task climb over all these, and so Quatre and his fellow- traveler went into an inn to rest and refresh themselves before they made the ascent next day. There were a number of people in the parlor at the inn, for there was a man showing off some marionettes. He had just put up his little theatre, and the people were sitting round waiting for the play to begin. A fat old butcher had taken up his place in the middle of the front row, and he had a ferocious looking bulldog by his side, and it sat staring just as hard as anybody else.
Then the comedy began, and it was a very pretty play, with a King and a Queen in it. They sat on a velvet throne with golden crowns on their heads, and trains, for they could well afford it, The prettiest little wooden dolls stood by all the doors, they had bright glass eyes and big whiskers and they were employed in opening and shutting the doors to let in the fresh air. It was a capital play, and not at all a tragic one, but just as the Queen got up to walk across the floor-Heaven knows what idea entered the bulldog's head, but finding that the butcher was not holding him, he made a great leap forward right into the middle of the theatre and seized the Queen by the slender waist, and crunched her head up. It was a terrible disaster!
The poor showman, his braid whipping behind him, hurried around quite frightened and also very sad about his Queen, for she was his prettiest doll, and the horrid bulldog had entirely ruined her. But when all the people had gone away Quatre's fellow-traveler said he could make her all right again, and he took out his little pot and rubbed some of the same ointment on to the doll which had cured the poor old woman who had broken her leg. As soon as the doll had been rubbed over with the ointment she became whole again, nay, she could even move all her limbs herself; it was no longer necessary to pull the wires. The doll was exactly like a living being, except that she could not speak. The showman was delighted, because now he did not have to hold the wires at all for this doll, as she could dance quite well by herself, and none of the others could do that.
At night, when everybody had gone to bed, someone was heard sighing most dolefully, and it went on so long that everybody got up to see who it could be. The showman went along to his theatre, because that was where the sighs seemed to come from. All the wooden dolls were lying in a heap; it was the King and his guards who were sighing so dismally and staring with their glass eyes. They all wanted to be rubbed with some of the same ointment as the Queen, so that they might be able to move their limbs as well as she did. She threw herself down on her knees and stretched out her hands with her golden crown, saying, "Pray, take this, but do, please, rub some of the ointment on my consort and the courtiers!" The poor man who owned the theatre and the marionettes could not help crying, he was so sorry for them. He turned his violet eyes to the traveling-companion and immediately promised him that he would give him all the money he possessed if he would only anoint five or six of the prettiest dolls. But the traveling-companion said that he did not want anything except the big sword that the showman wore at his side, and as soon as it saw given him, he anointed six dolls. They began to dance about at once so prettily that all the real, living girls who saw them began to dance too. The coachman and the cook, the waiter and the chambermaid, and all the strangers joined in, as well as the shovel and tongs: but those two fell on the top of each other just as they were making their first bound. It was indeed a lively night!
The next morning Quatre and his traveling-companion went away from them all, up the high mountains and through the great pine forests. They got so high that at last the church towers far below looked like little red berries among all the green; and they could see far away for many, many miles, to places where they had never been! Quatre had never seen so many of the beauties of this beautiful world all together before. The warm sun shone brightly in the clear blue sky, and the huntsman was heard winding his horn among the mountains; it was all so peaceful and sweet that it brought tears to his eyes, and he could not help exclaiming, "Great God, I could fall down and kiss the hem of Thy garment out of gratitude for all They good gifts to us!"
His traveling-companion also stood with folded hands looking at the woods and the villages basking in the warm sunshine. They heard a wonderful and beautiful sound above their heads, and looked up; a great white swan was hovering in the air above them. It sang as they had never heard any bird sing before; but the song became fainter and fainter, and the swan gradually sank down before their feet, where it lay dead-the beautiful bird.
"Two such beautiful wings," said the traveling-companion. "Such big white ones are worth a lot of money; I will take them with me. Now, you see what a good thing it was that I got this sword!" and with one blow he struck off both the wings of the dead swan, for he meant to keep them.
They traveled many, many miles over the mountains, till at last they saw before them a great town with over a hundred towers, which glittered like silver in the sunshine. In the middle of the town was a splendid marble palace, thatched with red gold, in which the King lived.
Quatre and his traveling-companion did not want to go into the town at once; they stopped at an inn outside to change their clothes, as they wished to look their best when they walked through the streets. The host told them that the King was such a good old man, he never did any harm to anyone; but his daughter-Heaven preserve us! She was a wicked Princess.
Beauty she had more than enough of; nobody could be so beautiful and fascinating as she was, but what was the good of it when she was such a bad, wicked witch, who was the cause of so many handsome Princes having lost their lives. She had given permission to anybody to court her. Anyone who could might come, were he a Prince or beggar-it was all the same to her; he only had to guess three riddles she asked him. If he could answer them, she would marry him, and he would be king over all the land when her father died; but if he failed to answer them, he either had to be hanged or to have his head cut off. So bad and so wicked was this beautiful Princess. Her father, the old King, was much grieved by it, but he could not prevent her from being so wicked, for he had once said that he would never have anything to do with her lovers; she must deal with tem herself as she liked. Every Prince who had yet come to guess the riddles so as to gain the Princess had failed, and so he had either been hanged or had his head cut off. Each one had been warned, and he need not have paid his addresses unless he had likes. The old King was so grieved by all this trouble and misery that he and his solders spent a whole day every year on their knees praying that the Princess might become good. But she had no intention of so doing. The old women who drank brandy dyed it black before they drank it; that was their way of mourning, and what more could they do!
"That vile Princess!" said Quatre, "she ought to be well birched, and that would be the best thing for her. If I were the King I would make the blood run!" Just then they heard all the people in the streets shouting "Hurrah!" The Princess was passing, and she was really so beautiful that when they saw her everybody forgot how wicked she was, and so they all shouted "Hurrah." Twelve beautiful maidens clothed in white silk, with golden tulips in their hands, rode twelve coal-black horses by her side. The Princess herself was on a snow-white horse, adorned with diamonds and rubies; her riding dress was of pure gold, and the whip in her hand looked like a sunbeam. The golden crown on her head seemed to be made of little twinkling stars from the sky; and her cloak was sewn all over with thousands of butterflies' wings. But she was far, far more beautiful than all her clothes. Her hair fell past her waist in waves of golden sunshine, eyes a cold blue, cheeks blushed as the pink rose, and lips the color of the red rose.
When Quatre saw her his face became as red as blood, and he could hardly say a single word; the Princess was the image of the beautiful girl with the golden crown whom he had seen in his dream, the night his father died. He thought her so beautiful that he at once fell in love with her. It certainly could not be true, he thought, that she could be a wicked witch who allowed people to be hanged or executed if they could not guess her riddles. "Anyone may pay his addresses to her, even the poorest peasant; I will go to the Palace myself! I can't help going!"
They all said that he ought not to go as he would only meet the some fate as the others, but Quatre thought he would be sure to get all right; so he brushed his coat and his shoes, washed his hands and face, and combed his blond hair, and then went quite alone to the town and straight up to the Palace.
"Come in," said the old King when Quatre knocked at the door. He opened it, and the old King in his dressing-gown and slippers came towards him. He had his gold crown on his head, the scepter in one hand, and the golden ball in the other. "Wait a moment," said he, tucking the ball under his arm so as to be able to shake hands with Quatre. But as soon as he heard that Quatre was a suitor he began to cry so much that both the ball and the scepter rolled on to the floor, and he had to wipe his eyes with his dressing-gown. The poor old King!
"Leave it alone!" said he; "you are sure to fail just like the others, I am convinced of it!" Then he led Quatre into the Princess' pleasure garden, which was a ghastly sight. From every tree hung three or four King's sons who had come to court the Princess, but who had all been unable to guess her riddles. With every gust of wind the bones rattled so that all the little birds were frightened away and they never dared come into the garden; all the flowers were tied up to human bones in the place of stakes, and human skulls grinned out of every flower pot. It was indeed a nice garden for a Princess.
"Here you see," said the old King, "your fate will be just the same as all these. Do give it up. It makes me most unhappy, I take it so much to heart." Quatre kissed the old King's hand and said he thought it would be all right for he was so fond of the beautiful Princess.
Just then the Princess Dorothy came herself with all her ladies driving into the Palace gardens, so they went up to her and said "Good-morning." She was certainly very beautiful as she shook hands with Quatre, and he was more in love with her than ever; it was impossible that she could be the wicked witch people said she was. They all went up into the hall and the little pages brought jam and gingerbread nuts to them; but the old King was so sad that he could eat nothing, besides the ginger nuts were too hard for him.
It was now decided that Quatre was to come up to the Palace the next morning, when the judges and all the council would be assembled to hear if he could guess the first riddle. If he succeeded the first time, he would have to come twice more, but nobody yet had ever guessed the first riddle—he had lost his life at once.
Quatre was not a bit alarmed about himself; he was delighted, and only thought of the lovely Princess Dorothy. He felt quite certain that the good god would help him, but in what manner it would be he had not the slightest idea, nor did he trouble his head about it. He danced along the highway, when he went back to the inn where his traveling-companion was waiting for him. Quatre was never tired of telling him how charming the Princess had been towards him, and how lovely she was. He was longing for the next day to come, when he was to go to the Palace to try his luck with the riddles. But his traveling-companion shook his head and was quite sad.
"I am so fond of you," he said; "we might have been companions for a long time yet, and now I shall lose you directly. My poor Quatre, I could weep over you, but I will not spoil your pleasure on the last evening we perhaps may spend together. We will be merry, as merry as possible; tomorrow when you are gone I can be sad!"
Everybody in the town had heard directly that a new suitor had come for the Princess, and there was general mourning. The theatre was closed, and all the cakewomen tied black crape round the sugar pigs. The King and the priests were praying on their knees in the churches, and there was universal grief, for they all knew that there could be no better fate in store for Quatre than for the other suitors.
