THE
WONDERFUL SHEEP
Once
upon a time--in the days when the fairies lived--there was a king who had three
daughters, who were all young, and clever, and beautiful; but the youngest of
the three, who was called Miranda, was the prettiest and the most beloved.
The
King, her father, gave her more dresses and jewels in a month than he gave the
others in a year; but she was so generous that she shared everything with her
sisters, and they were all as happy and as fond of one another as they could
be.
Now,
the King had some quarrelsome neighbors, who, tired of leaving him in peace,
began to make war upon him so fiercely that he feared he would be altogether
beaten if he did not make an effort to defend himself. So he collected a great
army and set off to fight them, leaving the Princesses with their governess in
a castle where news of the war was brought every day--sometimes that the King
had taken a town, or won a battle, and, at last, that he had altogether overcome
his enemies and chased them out of his kingdom, and was coming back to the
castle as quickly as possible, to see his dear little Miranda whom he loved so
much.
The
three Princesses put on dresses of satin, which they had had made on purpose
for this great occasion, one green, one blue, and the third white; their jewels
were the same colors. The eldest wore emeralds, the second turquoises, and the
youngest diamonds, and thus adorned they went to meet the King, singing verses
which they had composed about his victories.
When
he saw them all so beautiful and so gay he embraced them tenderly, but gave
Miranda more kisses than either of the others.
Presently
a splendid banquet was served, and the King and his daughters sat down to it,
and as he always thought that there was some special meaning in everything, he
said to the eldest:
"Tell
me why you have chosen a green dress."
"Sire,"
she answered, "having heard of your victories I thought that green would
signify my joy and the hope of your speedy return."
"That
is a very good answer," said the King; "and you, my daughter,"
he continued, "why did you take a blue dress?"
"Sire,"
said the Princess, "to show that we constantly hoped for your success, and
that the sight of you is as welcome to me as the sky with its most beautiful
stars."
"Why,"
said the King, "your wise answers astonish me, and you, Miranda. What made
you dress yourself all in white?
"Because,
sire," she answered, "white suits me better than anything else."
"What!"
said the King angrily, "was that all you thought of, vain child?"
"I
thought you would be pleased with me," said the Princess; "that was
all."
The
King, who loved her, was satisfied with this, and even pretended to be pleased
that she had not told him all her reasons at first.
"And
now," said he, "as I have supped well, and it is not time yet to go
to bed, tell me what you dreamed last night."
The
eldest said she had dreamed that he brought her a dress, and the precious
stones and gold embroidery on it were brighter than the sun.
The
dream of the second was that the King had brought her a spinning wheel and a
distaff, that she might spin him some shirts.
But
the youngest said: "I dreamed that my second sister was to be married, and
on her wedding-day, you, father, held a golden ewer and said: 'Come, Miranda,
and I will hold the water that you may dip your hands in it.'"
The
King was very angry indeed when he heard this dream, and frowned horribly;
indeed, he made such an ugly face that everyone knew how angry he was, and he
got up and went off to bed in a great hurry; but he could not forget his
daughter's dream.
"Does
the proud girl wish to make me her slave?" he said to himself. "I am
not surprised at her choosing to dress herself in white satin without a thought
of me. She does not think me worthy of her consideration! But I will soon put
an end to her pretensions!"
He
rose in a fury, and although it was not yet daylight, he sent for the Captain
of his Bodyguard, and said to him:
"You
have heard the Princess Miranda's dream? I consider that it means strange
things against me, therefore I order you to take her away into the forest and
kill her, and, that I may be sure it is done, you must bring me her heart and
her tongue. If you attempt to deceive me you shall be put to death!"
The
Captain of the Guard was very much astonished when he heard this barbarous
order, but he did not dare to contradict the King for fear of making him still
more angry, or causing him to send someone else, so he answered that he would
fetch the Princess and do as the King had said. When he went to her room they
would hardly let him in, it was so early, but he said that the King had sent
for Miranda, and she got up quickly and came out; a little black girl called
Patypata held up her train, and her pet monkey and her little dog ran after
her. The monkey was called Grabugeon, and the little dog Tintin.
The
Captain of the Guard begged Miranda to come down into the garden where the King
was enjoying the fresh air, and when they got there, he pretended to search for
him, but as he was not to be found, he said:
"No
doubt his Majesty has strolled into the forest," and he opened the little
door that led to it and they went through.
By
this time the daylight had begun to appear, and the Princess, looking at her
conductor, saw that he had tears in his eyes and seemed too sad to speak.
"What
is the matter?" she said in the kindest way. "You seem very
sorrowful."
"Alas!
Princess," he answered, "who would not be sorrowful who was ordered
to do such a terrible thing as I am? The King has commanded me to kill you
here, and carry your heart and your tongue to him, and if I disobey I shall
lose my life."
The
poor Princess was terrified, she grew very pale and began to cry softly.
Looking
up at the Captain of the Guard with her beautiful eyes, she said gently:
Will
you really have the heart to kill me? I have never done you any harm, and have
always spoken well of you to the King. If I had deserved my father's anger I
would suffer without a murmur, but, alas! he is unjust to complain of me, when
I have always treated him with love and respect."
"Fear
nothing, Princess," said the Captain of the Guard. "I would far
rather die myself than hurt you; but even if I am killed you will not be safe:
we must find some way of making the King believe that you are dead."
"What
can we do?" said Miranda; "unless you take him my heart and my tongue
he will never believe you."
The
Princess and the Captain of the Guard were talking so earnestly that they did
not think of Patypata, but she had overheard all they said, and now came and
threw herself at Miranda's feet.
"Madam,"
she said, "I offer you my life; let me be killed, I shall be only too
happy to die for such a kind mistress."
"Why,
Patypata," cried the Princess, kissing her, "that would never do;
your life is as precious to me as my own, especially after such a proof of your
affection as you have just given me."
"You
are right, Princess," said Grabugeon, coming forward, "to love such a
faithful slave as Patypata; she is of more use to you than I am, I offer you my
tongue and my heart most willingly, especially as I wish to make a great name
for myself in Goblin Land."
"No,
no, my little Grabugeon," replied Miranda, "I cannot bear the thought
of taking your life."
"Such
a good little dog as I am," cried Tintin, "could not think of letting
either of you die for his mistress. If anyone is to die for her it must be
me."
And
then began a great dispute between Patypata, Grabugeon, and Tintin, and they
came to high words, until at last Grabugeon, who was quicker than the others,
ran up to the very top of the nearest tree, and let herself fall, head first,
to the ground, and there she lay--quite dead!
The
Princess was very sorry, but as Grabugeon was really dead, she allowed the
Captain of the Guard to take her tongue; but, alas! it was such a little
one--not bigger than the Princess's thumb--that they decided sorrowfully that
it was of no use at all: the King would not have been taken in by it for a
moment!
"Alas!
my little monkey," cried the Princess, "I have lost you, and yet I am
no better off than I was before."
"The
honor of saving your life is to be mine," interrupted Patypata, and, before
they could prevent her, she had picked up a knife and cut her head off in an
instant.
But
when the Captain of the Guard would have taken her tongue it turned out to be
quite black, so that would not have deceived the King either.
"Am
I not unlucky?" cried the poor Princess; "I lose everything I love,
and am none the better for it."
"If
you had accepted my offer," said Tintin, "you would only have had me
to regret, and I should have had all your gratitude."
Miranda
kissed her little dog, crying so bitterly, that at last she could bear it no
longer, and turned away into the forest. When she looked back the Captain of
the Guard was gone, and she was alone, except for Patypata, Grabugeon, and
Tintin, who lay upon the ground. She could not leave the place until she had
buried them in a pretty little mossy grave at the foot of a tree, and she wrote
their names upon the bark of the tree, and how they had all died to save her
life. And then she began to think where she could go for safety--for this forest
was so close to her father's castle that she might be seen and recognized by
the first passer-by, and, besides that, it was full of lions and wolves, who
would have snapped up a princess just as soon as a stray chicken. So she began
to walk as fast as she could, but the forest was so large and the sun was so
hot that she nearly died of heat and terror and fatigue; look which way she
would there seemed to be no end to the forest, and she was so frightened that
she fancied every minute that she heard the King running after her to kill her.
You may imagine how miserable she was, and how she cried as she went on, not
knowing which path to follow, and with the thorny bushes scratching her
dreadfully and tearing her pretty frock to pieces.
At
last she heard the bleating of a sheep, and said to herself:
"No
doubt there are shepherds here with their flocks; they will show me the way to
some village where I can live disguised as a peasant girl. Alas! it is not
always kings and princes who are the happiest people in the world. Who could
have believed that I should ever be obliged to run away and hide because the
King, for no reason at all, wishes to kill me?"
So
saying she advanced toward the place where she heard the bleating, but what was
her surprise when, in a lovely little glade quite surrounded by trees, she saw
a large sheep; its wool was as white as snow, and its horns shone like gold; it
had a garland of flowers round its neck, and strings of great pearls about its
legs, and a collar of diamonds; it lay upon a bank of orange-flowers, under a
canopy of cloth of gold which protected it from the heat of the sun. Nearly a
hundred other sheep were scattered about, not eating the grass, but some
drinking coffee, lemonade, or sherbet, others eating ices, strawberries and
cream, or sweetmeats, while others, again, were playing games. Many of them
wore golden collars with jewels, flowers, and ribbons.
Miranda
stopped short in amazement at this unexpected sight, and was looking in all
directions for the shepherd of this surprising flock, when the beautiful sheep
came bounding toward her.
"Approach,
lovely Princess," he cried; "have no fear of such gentle and
peaceable animals as we are."
"What
a marvel!" cried the Princess, starting back a little. "Here is a
sheep that can talk."
"Your
monkey and your dog could talk, madam," said he; "are you more
astonished at us than at them?"
"A
fairy gave them the power to speak," replied Miranda. "So I was used
to them."
"Perhaps
the same thing has happened to us," he said, smiling sheepishly.
"But, Princess, what can have led you here?"
"A
thousand misfortunes, Sir Sheep," she answered.
"I
am the unhappiest princess in the world, and I am seeking a shelter against my
father's anger."
"Come
with me, madam," said the Sheep; "I offer you a hiding-place which
you only will know of, and where you will be mistress of everything you
see."
"I
really cannot follow you," said Miranda, "for I am too tired to walk
another step."
The
Sheep with the golden horns ordered that his chariot should be fetched, and a
moment after appeared six goats, harnessed to a pumpkin, which was so big that
two people could quite well sit in it, and was all lined with cushions of
velvet and down. The Princess stepped into it, much amused at such a new kind
of carriage, the King of the Sheep took his place beside her, and the goats ran
away with them at full speed, and only stopped when they reached a cavern, the
entrance to which was blocked by a great stone. This the King touched with his
foot, and immediately it fell down, and he invited the Princess to enter
without fear. Now, if she had not been so alarmed by everything that had
happened, nothing could have induced her to go into this frightful cave, but
she was so afraid of what might be behind her that she would have thrown
herself even down a well at this moment. So, without hesitation, she followed
the Sheep, who went before her, down, down, down, until she thought they must
come out at the other side of the world--indeed, she was not sure that he
wasn't leading her into Fairyland. At last she saw before her a great plain,
quite covered with all sorts of flowers, the scent of which seemed to her nicer
than anything she had ever smelled before; a broad river of orange-flower water
flowed round it and fountains of wine of every kind ran in all directions and
made the prettiest little cascades and brooks. The plain was covered with the
strangest trees, there were whole avenues where partridges, ready roasted, hung
from every branch, or, if you preferred pheasants, quails, turkeys, or rabbits,
you had only to turn to the right hand or to the left and you were sure to find
them. In places the air was darkened by showers of lobster-patties, white
puddings, sausages, tarts, and all sorts of sweetmeats, or with pieces of gold
and silver, diamonds and pearls. This unusual kind of rain, and the
pleasantness of the whole place, would, no doubt, have attracted numbers of
people to it, if the King of the Sheep had been of a more sociable disposition,
but from all accounts it is evident that he was as grave as a judge.
As
it was quite the nicest time of the year when Miranda arrived in this
delightful land the only palace she saw was a long row of orange trees,
jasmines, honeysuckles, and musk-roses, and their interlacing branches made the
prettiest rooms possible, which were hung with gold and silver gauze, and had
great mirrors and candlesticks, and most beautiful pictures. The Wonderful
Sheep begged that the Princess would consider herself queen over all that she
saw, and assured her that, though for some years he had been very sad and in
great trouble, she had it in her power to make him forget all his grief.
"You
are so kind and generous, noble Sheep," said the Princess, "that I cannot
thank you enough, but I must confess that all I see here seems to me so
extraordinary that I don't know what to think of it."
As
she spoke a band of lovely fairies came up and offered her amber baskets full
of fruit, but when she held out her hands to them they glided away, and she
could feel nothing when she tried to touch them.
"Oh!"
she cried, "what can they be? Whom am I with?" and she began to cry.
At
this instant the King of the Sheep came back to her, and was so distracted to
find her in tears that he could have torn his wool.
"What
is the matter, lovely Princess?" he cried. "Has anyone failed to
treat you with due respect?"
"Oh!
no," said Miranda; "only I am not used to living with sprites and
with sheep that talk, and everything here frightens me. It was very kind of you
to bring me to this place, but I shall be even more grateful to you if you will
take me up into the world again."
"Do
not be afraid," said the Wonderful Sheep; "I entreat you to have
patience, and listen to the story of my misfortunes. I was once a king, and my
kingdom was the most splendid in the world. My subjects loved me, my neighbors
envied and feared me. I was respected by everyone, and it was said that no king
ever deserved it more.
"I
was very fond of hunting, and one day, while chasing a stag, I left my
attendants far behind; suddenly I saw the animal leap into a pool of water, and
I rashly urged my horse to follow it, but before we had gone many steps I felt
an extraordinary heat, instead of the coolness of the water; the pond dried up,
a great gulf opened before me, out of which flames of fire shot up, and I fell
helplessly to the bottom of a precipice.
"I
gave myself up for lost, but presently a voice said: 'Ungrateful Prince, even
this fire is hardly enough to warm your cold heart!'
"'Who
complains of my coldness in this dismal place?' I cried.
"'An
unhappy being who loves you hopelessly,' replied the voice, and at the same
moment the flames began to flicker and cease to burn, and I saw a fairy, whom I
had known as long as I could remember, and whose ugliness had always horrified
me. She was leaning upon the arm of a most beautiful young girl, who wore
chains of gold on her wrists and was evidently her slave.
"'Why,
Ragotte,' I said, for that was the fairy's name, 'what is the meaning of all
this? Is it by your orders that I am here?'
"'And
whose fault is it,' she answered, 'that you have never understood me until now?
Must a powerful fairy like myself condescend to explain her doings to you who
are no better than an ant by comparison, though you think yourself a great
king?'
"'Call
me what you like,' I said impatiently; 'but what is it that you want--my crown,
or my cities, or my treasures?'
"'Treasures!'
said the fairy, disdainfully. 'If I chose I could make any one of my scullions
richer and more powerful than you. I do not want your treasures, but,' she
added softly, 'if you will give me your heart--if you will marry me--I will add
twenty kingdoms to the one you have already; you shall have a hundred castles
full of gold and five hundred full of silver, and, in short, anything you like
to ask me for.'
"'Madam
Ragotte,' said I, 'when one is at the bottom of a pit where one has fully
expected to be roasted alive, it is impossible to think of asking such a
charming person as you are to marry one! I beg that you will set me at liberty,
and then I shall hope to answer you fittingly.'
"'Ah!'
said she, 'if you really loved me you would not care where you were--a cave, a
wood, a fox-hole, a desert, would please you equally well. Do not think that
you can deceive me; you fancy you are going to escape, but I assure you that
you are going to stay here and the first thing I shall give you to do will be
to keep my sheep--they are very good company and speak quite as well as you do.
"As
she spoke she advanced, and led me to this plain where we now stand, and showed
me her flock, but I paid little attention to it or to her.
"To
tell the truth, I was so lost in admiration of her beautiful slave that I
forgot everything else, and the cruel Ragotte, perceiving this, turned upon her
so furious and terrible a look that she fell lifeless to the ground.
"At
this dreadful sight I drew my sword and rushed at Ragotte, and should certainly
have cut off her head had she not by her magic arts chained me to the spot on
which I stood; all my efforts to move were useless, and at last, when I threw
myself down on the ground in despair, she said to me, with a scornful smile:
"'I
intend to make you feel my power. It seems that you are a lion at present, I
mean you to be a sheep.'
"So
saying, she touched me with her wand, and I became what you see. I did not lose
the power of speech, or of feeling the misery of my present state.
"'For
five years,' she said, 'you shall be a sheep, and lord of this pleasant land,
while I, no longer able to see your face, which I loved so much, shall be
better able to hate you as you deserve to be hated.'
"She
disappeared as she finished speaking, and if I had not been too unhappy to care
about anything I should have been glad that she was gone.
"The
talking sheep received me as their king, and told me that they, too, were
unfortunate princes who had, in different ways, offended the revengeful fairy,
and had been added to her flock for a certain number of years; some more, some
less. From time to time, indeed, one regains his own proper form and goes back
again to his place in the upper world; but the other beings whom you saw are
the rivals or the enemies of Ragotte, whom she has imprisoned for a hundred
years or so; though even they will go back at last. The young slave of whom I
told you about is one of these; I have seen her often, and it has been a great
pleasure to me. She never speaks to me, and if I were nearer to her I know I
should find her only a shadow, which would be very annoying. However, I noticed
that one of my companions in misfortune was also very attentive to this little
sprite, and I found out that he had been her lover, whom the cruel Ragotte had
taken away from her long before; since then I have cared for, and thought of,
nothing but how I might regain my freedom. I have often been in the forest;
that is where I have seen you, lovely Princess, sometimes driving your chariot,
which you did with all the grace and skill in the world; sometimes riding to
the chase on so spirited a horse that it seemed as if no one but yourself could
have managed it, and sometimes running races on the plain with the Princesses
of your Court--running so lightly that it was you always who won the prize. Oh!
Princess, I have loved you so long, and yet how dare I tell you of my love!
what hope can there be for an unhappy sheep like myself?"
Miranda
was so surprised and confused by all that she had heard that she hardly knew
what answer to give to the King of the Sheep, but she managed to make some kind
of little speech, which certainly did not forbid him to hope, and said that she
should not be afraid of the shadows now she knew that they would some day come
to life again. "Alas!" she continued, "if my poor Patypata, my
dear Grabugeon, and pretty little Tintin, who all died for my sake, were
equally well off, I should have nothing left to wish for here!"
Prisoner
though he was, the King of the Sheep had still some powers and privileges.
"Go,"
said he to his Master of the Horse, "go and seek the shadows of the little
black girl, the monkey, and the dog: they will amuse our Princess."
And
an instant afterward Miranda saw them coming toward her, and their presence
gave her the greatest pleasure, though they did not come near enough for her to
touch them.
The
King of the Sheep was so kind and amusing, and loved Miranda so dearly, that at
last she began to love him too. Such a handsome sheep, who was so polite and
considerate, could hardly fail to please, especially if one knew that he was
really a king, and that his strange imprisonment would soon come to an end. So
the Princess's days passed very gaily while she waited for the happy time to
come. The King of the Sheep, with the help of all the flock, got up balls,
concerts, and hunting parties, and even the shadows joined in all the fun, and
came, making believe to be their own real selves.
One
evening, when the couriers arrived (for the King sent most carefully for
news--and they always brought the very best kinds), it was announced that the
sister of the Princess Miranda was going to be married to a great Prince, and
that nothing could be more splendid than all the preparations for the wedding.
"Ah!"
cried the young Princess, "how unlucky I am to miss the sight of so many
pretty things! Here am I imprisoned under the earth, with no company but sheep
and shadows, while my sister is to be adorned like a queen and surrounded by
all who love and admire her, and everyone but myself can go to wish her
joy!"
"Why
do you complain, Princess?" said the King of the Sheep. "Did I say
that you were not to go to the wedding? Set out as soon as you please; only
promise me that you will come back, for I love you too much to be able to live
without you."
Miranda
was very grateful to him, and promised faithfully that nothing in the world
should keep her from coming back. The King caused an escort suitable to her
rank to be got ready for her, and she dressed herself splendidly, not
forgetting anything that could make her more beautiful. Her chariot was of
mother-of-pearl, drawn by six dun-colored griffins just brought from the other
side of the world, and she was attended by a number of guards in splendid
uniforms, who were all at least eight feet high and had come from far and near
to ride in the Princess's train.
Miranda
reached her father's palace just as the wedding ceremony began, and everyone,
as soon as she came in, was struck with surprise at her beauty and the splendor
of her jewels. She heard exclamations of admiration on all sides; and the King
her father looked at her so attentively that she was afraid he must recognize
her; but he was so sure that she was dead that the idea never occurred to him.
However,
the fear of not getting away made her leave before the marriage was over. She
went out hastily, leaving behind her a little coral casket set with emeralds.
On it was written in diamond letters: "Jewels for the Bride," and
when they opened it, which they did as soon as it was found, there seemed to be
no end to the pretty things it contained. The King, who had hoped to join the
unknown Princess and find out who she was, was dreadfully disappointed when she
disappeared so suddenly, and gave orders that if she ever came again the doors
were to be shut that she might not get away so easily. Short as Miranda's
absence had been, it had seemed like a hundred years to the King of the Sheep.
He was waiting for her by a fountain in the thickest part of the forest, and the
ground was strewn with splendid presents which he had prepared for her to show
his joy and gratitude at her coming back.
As
soon as she was in sight he rushed to meet her, leaping and bounding like a
real sheep. He caressed her tenderly, throwing himself at her feet and kissing
her hands, and told her how uneasy he had been in her absence, and how
impatient for her return, with an eloquence which charmed her.
After
some time came the news that the King's second daughter was going to be
married. When Miranda heard it she begged the King of the Sheep to allow her to
go and see the wedding as before. This request made him feel very sad, as if
some misfortune must surely come of it, but his love for the Princess being
stronger than anything else he did not like to refuse her.
"You
wish to leave me, Princess," said he; "it is my unhappy fate--you are
not to blame. I consent to your going, but, believe me, I can give you no
stronger proof of my love than by so doing."
The
Princess assured him that she would only stay a very short time, as she had
done before, and begged him not to be uneasy, as she would be quite as much
grieved if anything detained her as he could possibly be.
So,
with the same escort, she set out, and reached the palace as the marriage
ceremony began. Everybody was delighted to see her; she was so pretty that they
thought she must be some fairy princess, and the Princes who were there could
not take their eyes off her.
The
King was more glad than anyone else that she had come again, and gave orders
that the doors should all be shut and bolted that very minute. When the wedding
was all but over the Princess got up quickly, hoping to slip away unnoticed
among the crowd, but, to her great dismay, she found every door fastened.
She
felt more at ease when the King came up to her, and with the greatest respect
begged her not to run away so soon, but at least to honor him by staying for
the splendid feast which was prepared for the Princes and Princesses. He led
her into a magnificent hall, where all the Court was assembled, and himself
taking up the golden bowl full of water, he offered it to her that she might
dip her pretty fingers into it.
At
this the Princess could no longer contain herself; throwing herself at the
King's feet, she cried out:
"My
dream has come true after all--you have offered me water to wash my hands on my
sister's wedding day, and it has not vexed you to do it."
The
King recognized her at once--indeed, he had already thought several times how
much like his poor little Miranda she was.
"Oh!
my dear daughter," he cried, kissing her, "can you ever forget my
cruelty? I ordered you to be put to death because I thought your dream
portended the loss of my crown. And so it did," he added, "for now
your sisters are both married and have kingdoms of their own--and mine shall be
for you." So saying he put his crown on the Princess's head and cried:
"Long
live Queen Miranda!"
All
the Court cried: "Long live Queen Miranda!" after him, and the young
Queen's two sisters came running up, and threw their arms round her neck, and
kissed her a thousand times, and then there was such a laughing and crying,
talking and kissing, all at once, and Miranda thanked her father, and began to
ask after everyone--particularly the Captain of the Guard, to whom she owed so
much; but, to her great sorrow, she heard that he was dead. Presently they sat
down to the banquet, and the King asked Miranda to tell them all that had
happened to her since the terrible morning when he had sent the Captain of the
Guard to fetch her. This she did with so much spirit that all the guests
listened with breathless interest. But while she was thus enjoying herself with
the King and her sisters, the King of the Sheep was waiting impatiently for the
time of her return, and when it came and went, and no Princess appeared, his
anxiety became so great that he could bear it no longer.
"She
is not coming back any more," he cried. "My miserable sheep's face
displeases her, and without Miranda what is left to me, wretched creature that
I am! Oh! cruel Ragotte; my punishment is complete."
For
a long time he bewailed his sad fate like this, and then, seeing that it was
growing dark, and that still there was no sign of the Princess, he set out as
fast as he could in the direction of the town. When he reached the palace he
asked for Miranda, but by this time everyone had heard the story of her
adventures, and did not want her to go back again to the King of the Sheep, so
they refused sternly to let him see her. In vain he begged and prayed them to
let him in; though his entreaties might have melted hearts of stone they did
not move the guards of the palace, and at last, quite broken-hearted, he fell
dead at their feet.
In
the meantime the King, who had not the least idea of the sad thing that was
happening outside the gate of his palace, proposed to Miranda that she should
be driven in her chariot all round the town, which was to be illuminated with
thousands and thousands of torches, placed in windows and balconies, and in all
the grand squares. But what a sight met her eyes at the very entrance of the
palace! There lay her dear, kind sheep, silent and motionless, upon the
pavement!
She
threw herself out of the chariot and ran to him, crying bitterly, for she
realized that her broken promise had cost him his life, and for a long, long
time she was so unhappy that they thought she would have died too.
So
you see that even a princess is not always happy--especially if she forgets to
keep her word; and the greatest misfortunes often happen to people just as they
think they have obtained their heart's desires![1]
[1]
Madame d'Aulnoy.
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