Part 2

All through the north land there was great excitement. Everywhere the young girls wrought upon gay dresses, and the fathers and mothers consulted together, that nothing might be wanting in the ball costumes of their daughters, for each one thought--“Our child is the most beautiful maiden.”

The morning dawned without a ray of sunshine. Only the heavy snow-clouds covered the sky.

“My sisters are getting ready for the ball to-night,” laughed Golden Snow. “Very soon the messengers will be flying out after the fleecy fringes and ribbons, for every one must be dressed in the real court costume.”

“Silly child, silly child,” answered the old woman; yet silently she thought--“If my daughter could go to the ball, the prince would surely fall in love with her, for in all the north land she is the only true princess.”

“See, they are coming, mother!” exclaimed Golden Snow, clapping her hands with delight.

The old woman looked out of the window, and saw everywhere the snow-flakes flying about, like little madcaps, over hill and valley.

It seemed a long day to her; there was a chill in the air, and she was not happy. Satos, the old fisherman, came in, saying, in his good-natured voice, “It will be stormy to-night, wife.”

“Ah, well,” replied she, “what will that matter to us, who stay at home?”

Just then a knock came at the door; and when the old man opened it, he saw a stately lady, who was so covered with snow that no part of her dress could be seen. It was like a cloak about her. Upon her head she wore a band of shining brilliants, that so dazzled the old man that he could not speak a word.

The lady stepped into the cottage, and when she saw Golden Snow, she embraced her fondly, saying, “My dear child, I have not forgotten that it is your birthday, and that you are now fifteen years old.” She took a little box from her pocket, and placed it upon the floor. In a few moments it had increased to so great a size that it was large enough to hold the entire wardrobe of a lady.

Golden Snow kissed her hand, and thanked her again and again.

“I must go now,” said the lady; “I can not endure the heat; but never fear, my child, for your sisters shall attend to every thing. Now, good-bye;” and again she embraced the young maiden tenderly, and in a moment was gone.

The fisherman and his wife had been standing gazing upon this scene in silent amazement; but when the lady had disappeared, and they could not see how, the old woman recovered her voice--

“Father,” she exclaimed, “the lady! she did not go out at the door, nor the window; how did she go?”

“Don’t ask me, wife--I don’t know any thing,” replied the old man in a bewildered way. “I believe--I rather think I am in the fog.” And after this he sank into a chair, and did not speak again for an hour. He was trying in vain to get out of the fog. A clear, ringing laugh startled the old man; it was Golden Snow, whose eyes were glistening with mirth.

“Who was she, child?” asked the good-wife.

“It was the Snow Queen, mother,” replied the young girl, as soon as she could speak for laughing. “But now let us look at my birthday gift.”

The good woman’s curiosity overcame her wonder; so, taking the silver key, she unlocked the great box, and displayed such a quantity of beautiful things, that her admiration was as great as her amazement.

There were shining robes of silver and gold cloth, and rich cloaks of fur, ornamented with glittering gems. Golden Snow was almost wild with delight, and her beaming eyes glistened with the unexpected pleasure. And the good-wife, though the mysticism troubled her greatly, could not but rejoice at the sight of all these treasures.

She took up a robe of silver cloth, richly embroidered with gold, saying, “Oh! my child, if you could only wear this to the ball, I should live to see you the bride of a real prince, and the richest man in all the Russian possessions, except the great czar himself.”

The old woman sighed heavily, adding, “It would not be right to say aught against the good-man, for there is nobody like him; but I do believe he would have his way if old Nickey Bend stood at the door with his cloven hoof, so it is no use talking--we must give up the ball, my child.”

“And I am content,” said Golden Snow, fastening a string of pearls into the shining crown that she had formed of her own abundant tresses. Then she threw about her a rich fur mantle, made of a thousand different skins of the finest quality.

“I must go now, and dance for a while with my sisters. Remember, mother,” she added, as the old woman shook her head, “it is my birthnight--you would not deny me.”

The old woman listened, and heard the clear voices calling:--

“’Tis thy birthnight, sister fair, Join us fairies of the air. Where the night-winds round us blow We are waiting, Golden Snow.”

“Kiss me, mother, for I must go,” said the maiden, eagerly. And with the old woman’s kiss warm upon her cheek, she ran out and danced with the pretty snow-flakes till her face glowed and her eyes sparkled like the rich carbuncle that clasped her mantle.

“It is getting late; come in, child! come in!” called the old woman, who grew weary waiting.

The maiden kissed her white hands to the fleecy snow-flakes, singing like a bird--

“Good night! Snow-flakes white. Golden Snow Now must go. Sisters white, Good night! Good night!”

There was a little sound, as though soft hands met and young lips kissed each other, and Golden Snow ran into the house, rosy, joyous, and ready to obey the good mother, even when she said, “Go to bed, my dear child,” though the bright eyes were still wide awake.

“You will tell me a story, mother,” said the young girl, in a coaxing tone.

So the old woman sat down by the bedside, and told her a wonderful story of the olden time, how a fair princess was changed into a blue bird by the incantations of a wicked old witch, who had red eyes, and had studied the black art. And how, after a long time, the cruel enchantment was broken by a brave young prince, who had marvelous adventures. “So it all ended happily,” said the old mother, bending over Golden Snow to kiss her. Then she saw that the young maiden slept, and she stood gazing upon her fresh young face, and thinking curious thoughts, which somehow were enwoven with the web of the story she had been telling, but all ended in this:--“Golden Snow is the most beautiful maiden.”

* * * * *

At the castle the musicians were playing, and the grand saloon was like an enchanted hall, with fragrant air and gorgeous light. The delicious music stole into the heart, and throbbed in the impassioned pulses of the guests, the noble gentlemen and fair ladies.

The dark-eyed brunette rivaled the delicate blonde, and all were lovely in their dainty robes, with the soft mellow light floating around them.

Amid the festive throng, with courtly hospitality, walked the young prince. The winds and sun had bronzed his handsome face, and the damp exhalations of the mine had moistened the rich curls of his dark hair. Yet nothing in all the rough miner’s life had harmed him in any way. He was a prince born, and a real prince at heart. There was not a father in the north land who would not have taken him by the hand, nor a mother who would not have been proud of him. Even the young maidens whispered together, “He is a _man_; one could look up to him, and that is the best of all.”

The prince was attentive to all his fair guests, but he danced more with the consul’s daughter. She was a proud young beauty, so ambitious, that she had treated with scorn many an honest heart in the Gold Land.

“My great-great-grandfather was younger brother to an earl, and I am beautiful enough to be the bride of a nobleman,” she would say, as she sat by her mirror. When the herald came with the invitation to the ball, she determined in her mind to marry the rich Russian prince.

“Of course,” she thought, “I am the most beautiful, so that is settled. I will go back to the old world, where I will astonish even the queen with the richness of my dress and the luster of my jewels, and every one will pay court to the princess of the Gold Land.”

So she went to the ball with glistening eyes and a proud flush upon her cheek, and all the guests whispered, “The consul’s daughter is the most beautiful maiden.” It found an echo in the heart of the prince, so that the matter seemed really decided.

Just then the music ceased, for the musicians were weary. The dancers were quite out of breath, and the windows of the grand saloon were opened to admit the refreshing air.

Without, the snow-flakes were holding their revel in honor of the princess Golden Snow. Up to the great carved windows they flew, and their clear voices sounded through the ball-room so distinctly, that the prince and all his guests heard them:

“The consul’s daughter is fair, we know, But not like the beautiful Golden Snow. There are lovely maids at the castle ball, But Golden Snow is fairer than all.”

The flush of pride in the cheek of the consul’s daughter gave place to the deeper red of anger. Her eyes shot flames of fire, and her brow darkened with heavy clouds. “What does this insult mean?” she said sharply to the prince.

The young man gave a start, as though he were awaking from a dream. “It is strange,” he answered, “but it shall be looked to, lady. What it means I can not tell.”

He called his servants, telling them to bring in the people who were crying without. When the men returned, they were trembling, and seemed quite afraid.

“There are a hundred voices, but no person is without, only the snow-flakes flying about like living things.”

Then the prince went out himself, and a great search was made all over the grounds of the castle, but not a human being could be found. Still, everywhere the voices could be heard, and the snow-flakes thickened, till at last the search was given up.

“It is the work of magic and evil,” said the consul and all his friends; but the prince offered a great reward to any one who would find the beautiful Golden Snow, and all the guests were invited to return in one week’s time.

All the week the young prince could think of nothing but the mysterious voices that pursued him, and everywhere his messengers were seeking for the beautiful Golden Snow.

The consul’s daughter was nearly wild with rage and disappointment. One evening, in the dusky twilight, she went down into the shadows of a dark cañon, and consulted a wicked old witch, who lived in a dismal cavern.

“Am I not the fairest of all the maidens in the new world?” she asked, “but what means this cry of ‘Golden Snow?’”

“You are very fair,” answered the old witch, “but I must read the stars.” So she went down into the lowest depths of the cañon, and in the bottom of a deep well she read the stars:--

“There were maidens fair at the prince’s ball, But Golden Snow is fairer than all.”

“What does it mean?” asked the consul’s daughter, pale and trembling with emotion.

“I will tell you! Golden Snow is the Elixir of Beauty, and if you can obtain it, and wash in it, you will become the most enchanting maiden in the world.”

“Where shall I find it? I will give you any thing--any thing for this Elixir of Beauty.”

Then the witch told her, if she would promise to be her slave one day in every month, she would help her to procure the great treasure.

“I can buy the old woman off when I become the bride of the rich prince,” thought the young girl. So she promised, and the witch brought out a wrinkled yellow parchment, and wrote the contract. Piercing the maiden’s arm, she dipped the pen in the blood, and the consul’s daughter signed it with a trembling hand.

“That is good,” said the old witch, her red eyes glaring at the maiden. “Now you must go to the summit of the black mountain, just over the prince’s mine, and bring me a quart of the snow that has drifted round the roots of the blasted pine. All your gold and jewelry you must bring, and, at twelve o’clock to-morrow night, come to the cavern, and I will give you the Elixir of Beauty, the wonderful golden snow.”

The consul’s daughter took off all her jewelry, necklace, bracelets, and all the gold she had she gave to the old witch. Then she toiled up the steep mountain, and at last, weary and worn, returned with the snow from the roots of the blasted pine.

When the young girl had left the cavern, the woman bent over the blazing fire, with alembic and crucible. “Who can tell the wonderful mystery,” she muttered to herself, as the liquid boiled up yellow as gold. “I myself will wash in it, and become young and fair again.”

The night came on in darkness, and at eleven o’clock the old witch carried the liquid out in the chill air, and with her red eyes, that could see best in the darkness, watched it as it changed in form, till, just as the bell in the church tower rung out twelve, she saw before her the Elixir of Beauty, the magic golden snow.

Just at that moment she heard the voice of the consul’s daughter calling, “It is so dark, I cannot see; give me your hand, and lead me to the Elixir of Beauty. I have dared so much for it! I am almost dead with fright.”

“In a moment,” answered the old woman, and she slipped the golden snow into a crevice in the rock, leaving only a little for the maiden. Reaching out her hand, she led the trembling girl into the cavern, and, taking an ivory box, filled it with pure white snow. Sprinkling over it the remnant of the Elixir of Beauty, she gave it to the maiden, saying, “Wash in it, and you will become as lovely as the dawn.”

When the young girl opened the box, it looked to her yellow and shiny, for the old witch had cast a glamour over it, so she went away quite satisfied.

She concealed her treasure in her private closet, and every night, after all in the house had retired, she washed her face, and, because there was the remnant of the Elixir of Beauty in it, she became fairer every day. All who saw her wondered, and said, “Surely the consul’s daughter is the most beautiful maiden!”

Through the whole week the herald of the prince rode over the Gold Land, everywhere seeking for Golden Snow. Once he passed the fisherman’s cottage, but that morning the fisher folk and their adopted child had gone down to the beach. As chance would have it, they missed the messenger.

Again the castle was illuminated, and the guests were assembled.

There were beautiful maidens, but the consul’s daughter shone like the morning. Again the heart of the prince re-echoed the wondering admiration of the guests, and his deep dark eyes flashed with a strange magnetic fire.

As the evening advanced, it grew warm, with the great lights flashing everywhere, and the delicious notes of the music vibrating and thrilling in every form.

“Do not open the windows,” entreated the consul’s daughter, “for the snow-flakes are drifting with the wind, and the night air is chill.” A shudder passed over her, so they opened only the doors of the grand saloon. But one of the warm and weary dancers went out secretly, and opened the carved oval window of the great hall. Then, louder than ever, the clear voices floated into the hall, and in all the winding corridors found a hundred echoes, till the whole castle reverberated with them:--

“The consul’s daughter is fair, we know, But not like the princess Golden Snow. There are lovely maids at the castle ball, But Golden Snow is fairer than all.”

The consul’s daughter was again frantic with rage; her eyes glared with fury, and her face grew frightful with the heat of passion. The dream had passed forever from the heart of the prince, and he wondered that, only a moment before, he had thought the face, so contorted with anger, beautiful as a painter’s bright ideal.

Everywhere they searched, but could find no one, so, while the mystery deepened, the ball ended.

In the morning, the prince mounted a fine black horse, and started off as for a long journey. For months he wandered over the northern Gold Land, seeking everywhere the princess Golden Snow.

At last, when he had given up all hope, and was returning disappointed to the castle, he chanced to ride by the fisherman’s cottage. The old fisher folk sat in the corner mending a net, and Golden Snow, in her rich, marvelous voice, was singing to them one of the songs of the sea. The prince stopped his horse and listened, drinking in every note of the delicious melody. When it was ended, he dismounted, and, leading his horse by the bridle, knocked at the door, and the good-wife opened it.

“Tell me, good mother, who it was singing, for, in all my life, never a voice came so into my heart.”

“It was the princess Golden Snow,” answered the old woman, proudly.

The prince entered, and saw Golden Snow in all her matchless grace and beauty. Around her head was her crown of shining hair, decked with brilliants, and a mantle of the richest fur covered her. She had only just returned from the sea-shore, with the rich flush of exercise upon her cheek, and her eyes were beaming with the rare beauty of her gentle spirit.

The fisherman rose to meet the young prince, who told him, in his handsome, manly way, how all over the north land he had been seeking for the princess Golden Snow; and how at last, when hope was almost dying, he had found the treasure.

The old man listened gravely; then he placed the white hand of the maiden in the young man’s strong, true palm, saying, “Not because you are a Russian prince, but because you are one of God’s noblemen, I give you my dear child. Take her, for in her loving heart she is the most beautiful maiden.”

Thus the young people were betrothed in the cottage of the good fisher folk, and, when the news spread over the country, there was great rejoicing. They were married at the old church, where the stones are covered with lichens, and many a poor man’s heart was made glad by the generosity of the prince that day.

The consul’s daughter was too angry to join in the festivities, but all the former guests of the castle were there, and among them sat the fisher folk in the place of honor.

All over the northern Gold Land flew the joyous snow-flakes, dancing at the wedding of their princess.

Everywhere in the grand saloon, and through the winding corridors of the castle, with strains of rich music mingled the clear mysterious voices:--

“All the north land now shall know, The most beautiful maiden is Golden Snow. We are her sisters, snow-flakes white, She is the princess of golden light.”

Thus all were happy, save the consul’s daughter, whose pride and rage devoured her. For one day every month she was doomed to be the slave of the wicked old witch, which was wretchedness. At last, one night, when her tasks had been too hard for endurance, from her great weariness and sickness of heart, she cried out, “O Lord Christ, forgive and pity me!”

Then the old witch gave a wild shriek of madness, and disappeared in the black shadows of the cañon forever.

Because she had hidden part of the golden snow, by this prayer the maiden was delivered out of her hands.

The selfish pride of the consul’s daughter was humbled, and she grew so gentle and good, that all, even the poor and dependent, learned to love her, so that she, too, became, in heart, a beautiful maiden.

GRACIA AND CATRINA.

Near the Mission of San Diego lived a very wealthy Spaniard and his wife, the most beautiful señora in all the country for many miles around.

They had every thing about them to make life pleasant: a fine orange and lemon grove; a large garden, containing olive, almond, peach, and pear trees; indeed, all kinds of fruit and flowers, that the luxurious climate of San Diego produces.

Their house was pleasant, and furnished with all the comforts and many of the luxuries of life; and when God blessed them with a little daughter, they felt as though there was nothing left to wish for. The child resembled her beautiful mamma in features as much as the tiny bud is like the full-blown rose.

The hidalgo had never ceased to regard his wife with that kind of worshipful love so dear to woman’s heart; and his great delight was to watch tenderly over mother and child, that even the slightest wish might not pass ungratified.

As it grew older, the little one learned to recognize the glance of love; and when at last it would open its large dark eyes and look eagerly at the dear papa, and, holding out its tiny hands, crow with all the innocent delight of infancy, he would take the babe in his arms, and all the harsh lines about his mouth softened into smiles. He was happier than any one in the whole country, except the delighted mother, who was never weary of looking upon the darling of her heart.

The señora was a devout Catholic, and, though she seldom left the child alone with her nurse, as the feast of Corpus Christi approached, she felt that this year, above all others so blessed to her in the birth of her beloved child, she should assist in the celebration. On the morning of the holy day, she gave her treasure, with many charges, into the care of the old servant, bidding her on no account whatever to leave the child, even for a moment. Twice, as she was about leaving, she returned to embrace the little one, with her soft eyes filled with tears. As she covered the face of her babe with kisses, she whispered, “Mamma loves thee. _Mijita mia._ Foolish mamma trembles to leave thee, yet the divine eye of the Holy Mother will watch over thee. _Mia vida, mia vida!_” Then came the sound of music, and the voice of the hidalgo calling her; so with a last embrace, with mingled smiles and tears, the young mother parted from her little one, for the first time since its birth.

There was to be a large procession formed upon the plaza, where rustic booths were built, and ornamented according to the taste and wealth of the devout, who often sacrificed the comfort of weeks, to be able to give this tribute of honor to the Holy Mother and the Blessed Christ.

Pictures of the Madonna were placed upon the rude altars, entwined with beautiful wreaths, while rare flowers shed their rich incense from costly vases. The señora had spared neither money nor pains.

“It is in honor of the Merciful Christ--the Redeemer of the world,” she said; “let every thing be as worthy of His greatness as possible; it will fall far short of what my thankful heart would offer.”

Pictures from the hands of the old masters were brought from the house, with tapestry and fringes; and every thing that the luxurious climate produced was added, until nothing seemed wanting to make it the one booth of enchanting beauty.

The señora superintended the arrangement of all, while the señor sat a little apart, watching with delight the magic workings of her exquisite taste and refinement. All this time the nurse held the infant in her arms, singing quaint old Indian ballads, rocking her to and fro with a soothing motion, till at last the restless fingers were stilled and the pretty eyes closed. The little one slept, and dreamed, no doubt, such dreams as the loving God sends to guileless infancy.

Just then the procession started, and the music fell upon the ear of the young Indian girl who was always near to wait upon old Macata, the nurse.

“Macata,” she said, as she started lightly from the mat on which she was sitting, “it touches my heart; I must go! See, the baby sleeps. Nothing can harm it. Come, mother Macata, only for a moment!”

“Nothing can harm it,” said the old Indian, as she laid the child in its little straw cradle, for she, too, loved the festive sight and glad music of the _fête_.