Part 46

The Prince made a magnificent present to the person who told him this good news, and he sent ambassadors to demand Mignone's hand in marriage. They granted his request, and he went more than three leagues to meet her, so anxious was he to behold her; but when he advanced to kiss her hand, the Enchanter descended, carried off the Princess before his face, and left him inconsolable. Désir resolved not to return to his kingdom till he had recovered Mignone. He would not allow any of his courtiers to follow him, and being mounted on his good horse he put the bridle on his neck and let him take his own road.

The horse entered a large plain, over which he travelled all day without seeing a single house. The master and the horse were both dying of hunger, when at length in the evening the Prince saw a cavern, in which was a light. He entered, and perceived a little woman, who appeared to be more than an hundred years old. She put on her spectacles to look at the Prince, but she was a long time adjusting them, because her nose was too short. The Prince and the Fairy (for she was one) each burst out laughing at seeing the other, and cried out both at once, "Ah, what a droll nose!" "Not so droll as yours," said Désir to the Fairy; "but, Madam, let us leave our noses as they are, and be so good as to give me something to eat, for I am dying of hunger, and so is my poor horse." "With all my heart," said the Fairy; "although your nose is so ridiculous, you are no less the son of my best friend. I loved the King your father like my own brother; he had a very handsome nose, that Prince!" "And what is wanting in mine?" said Désir. "Oh, there is nothing wanting," replied the Fairy; "on the contrary, there is but too much of it; but never mind, one may be a very good man, even with too long a nose. I have told you that I was the friend of your father; he came to see me very often in those days; and _à propos_ of those days, let me tell you I was then very pretty, and he used to say so. I must tell you a conversation we had together the last time that he saw me."

"Oh, Madam," said Désir, "I shall listen to you with much pleasure when I have supped; think, I pray you, that I have not eaten all day." "Poor boy," said the Fairy, "he is right: I forgot all about that; I will give you your supper directly, and whilst you eat I will tell you my history in few words, for I am not fond of long stories. Too long a tongue is still more insupportable than a long nose, and I remember, when I was young, that I was admired because I was not a great talker; they told the Queen my mother this, for notwithstanding what you now see me, I am the daughter of a great King. My father----" "Your father ate when he was hungry," said the Prince, interrupting her. "Yes, without doubt," replied the Fairy, "and you shall sup also, presently. I wanted only to tell you that my father----" "And I will listen to nothing till I have eaten," said the Prince, who began to be in a passion. He calmed down, however, for he had need of the Fairy, and he said to her, "I know that the pleasure I should have in listening to you would make me forget my hunger, but my horse, who will not hear you, has need of food."

The Fairy bridled up at this compliment. "You shall not wait any longer," said she, calling her domestics; "you are very polite, and notwithstanding the enormous size of your nose, you are very good looking." "Plague take the old woman with my nose," said the Prince to himself; "one would imagine that my mother had stolen from her the quantity of which her own nose is deficient. If I did not so much want something to eat, I would leave this chatterbox, who thinks she talks so little. One must be a great fool not to know his own defects: this comes of being born a Princess; flatterers have spoiled her, and have persuaded her that she is a little talker." Whilst the Prince was thus thinking, the servants laid the table, and he could not but wonder at the Fairy, who put a thousand questions to them merely for the pleasure of talking; he admired, above all, a waiting-woman, who, whatever the Fairy said, praised her mistress for her discretion. "Well," thought he, whilst eating, "I am charmed at having come here. This example makes me see how wisely I have acted in not listening to flatterers. Such people praise us shamelessly, hide our defects from us, and change them into perfections: as for me, I shall never be their dupe--I know my faults, thank God." The poor Désir believed this thoroughly, and did not feel that those who had praised his nose mocked him as much as the Fairy's waiting-woman mocked her (for the Prince saw that she turned aside from time to time to laugh). As for him, he said not a word, but ate with all his might.

"Prince," said the Fairy, when he began to be satisfied, "turn yourself a little, I beg; your nose throws a shadow which prevents my seeing what is on my plate. Now, come, let us speak of your father: I went to his Court at the time that he was a little boy, but it is forty years since I retired to this solitude. Tell me a little about the way they live at Court at present: the ladies, do they still love running from place to place? In my time, one saw them the same day at the assembly, at the theatres, at the promenades, at the ball--How long your nose is! I cannot get accustomed to the sight of it!" "Indeed," replied Désir, "I wish you would cease to speak of my nose--it is as it is--what does it matter to you? I am content with it, and I would not have it any shorter; every one has his nose as it pleases Providence." "Oh! I see plainly that you are angry, my poor Désir," said the Fairy; "it was not, however, my intention to annoy you, quite the contrary, I am one of your friends, and I wish to render you a service; but, in spite of that, I cannot help being shocked at your nose; I will, however, try not to speak of it, I will force myself even to think you are snub-nosed, although, to tell you the truth, there is enough material in that nose to make three reasonable noses."

Désir, who had supped, became so impatient at the endless talk which the Fairy kept up on the subject of his nose, that he threw himself on his horse and rode off. He continued his journey, and wherever he passed he thought everybody was mad, because every one exclaimed at his nose; but notwithstanding this, he had been so accustomed to hear it said that his nose was handsome, that he could never admit to himself that it was too long. The old Fairy, who wished to render him a service in spite of himself, took it into her head to shut up Mignone in a crystal palace, and placed this palace in the road of the Prince. Désir, transported with joy, strove to break it, but he could not succeed; in despair, he wished to approach so as at least to speak to the Princess, who, on her part also stretched out her hand close to the glass. He wished to kiss this hand, but whichever way he turned he could not get his mouth near it, because his nose prevented him. He perceived, for the first time, its extraordinary length, and putting his hand to it to bend it on one side, "It must be confessed," said he, "that my nose is too long." At that moment the crystal palace fell to pieces, and the old woman, who held Mignone by the hand, said to the Prince, "Confess that you are under a great obligation to me; I might have spoken in vain to you of your nose, you would never have believed in the defect had it not become an obstacle to the attainment of your wishes."

It is thus that self-love hides from us the deformities of our soul and body. Reason in vain seeks to exhibit them to us, we do not admit them till the moment when this same self-love finds them contrary to its interest. Désir, whose nose had now become an ordinary one, profited by this lesson; he married Mignone, and lived happily with her for a great number of years.

PRINCE CHÉRI.

There was once upon a time so excellent a monarch that his subjects called him King Good. One day, when he was hunting, a little white rabbit which the dogs were about to kill, jumped into his arms. The King caressed the little rabbit, and said, "As it has put itself under my protection, I will not allow any harm to be done to it." He carried the little rabbit into his palace and gave it a pretty little house and nice herbs to eat. At night, when he was alone in his chamber, a beautiful lady appeared before him; she was arrayed neither in gold nor in silver, but her robe was white as snow, and her head-dress consisted simply of a crown of white roses. The good King was much surprised to see this lady, as his door was locked, and he knew not how she had entered. She said to him, "I am the Fairy Candid; I passed through the wood as you were hunting, and I wished to ascertain if you were as good as everybody said you were. For that purpose I took the form of a little rabbit, and I saved myself by jumping into your arms; for I know that those who have pity for animals have more still for men; and if you had refused me your assistance I should have thought you wicked. I come to thank you for the kindness you have shown me, and to assure you I shall always be your friend. You have only to ask me for anything you wish, I promise to grant it."

"Madam," said the good King, "as you are a Fairy, you ought to know all I wish for. I have but one son, whom I love exceedingly, and on that account they have named him Prince Chéri; if you have any affection for me, become the friend of my son." "With all my heart," said the Fairy; "I can make your son the handsomest Prince in the world, or the richest, or the most powerful; choose which you wish him to be." "I desire none of those things for my son," said the good King; "but I shall be much obliged if you will make him the best of all Princes. What will it profit him to be handsome, rich, to have all the kingdoms of the world, if he should be wicked? You know well he would be miserable, and that nothing but virtue can make him happy." "You are quite right," said Candid; "but it is not in my power to make the Prince Chéri a good man in spite of himself; he must himself endeavour to become virtuous. All I can promise you is to give him good advice, to point out to him his faults, and to punish him if he will not correct them and punish himself."

The good King was quite content with this promise, and died a short time afterwards. Prince Chéri wept much for his father, for he loved him with all his heart, and he would have given all his kingdoms, his gold, and his silver, to have saved him, if such things had power to change the will of fate. Two years after the death of the good King, Chéri being in bed, Candid appeared to him. "I promised your father," said she to him, "to be your friend; and, to keep my word, I come to make you a present." At the same time she placed on the finger of Chéri a little gold ring, and said to him, "Keep this ring carefully--it is more precious than diamonds. Every time you commit a bad action it will prick your finger; but if in spite of this pricking you persist in the evil deed, you will lose my friendship, and I shall become your enemy."

Candid disappeared as she uttered these words, and left Chéri much astonished. For some time his conduct was so faultless that the ring did not prick him at all, and this gave him so much gratification, that his subjects added to his name Chéri, or Beloved, that of Heureux, or Happy. One day he went out hunting, and caught nothing, which put him in a bad humour. It appeared to him, then, that the ring pressed his finger a little; but as it did not prick him he paid no great attention to it. On entering his apartment, however, his little dog Bibi came jumping about him affectionately, when he said, "Get thee gone, I am not in a humour to receive thy caresses!" The poor little dog, who did not understand him, pulled at his coat, to oblige him at least to look at him. This irritated Chéri, and he gave him a violent kick. In a moment the ring pricked him, as if it had been a pin; he was much astonished, and seated himself, quite ashamed, in a corner of the room. "I think the Fairy mocks me," said he to himself. "What great evil have I done in kicking an animal which worried me? Of what use is it to be master of a great empire if I may not chastise my own dog?" "I do not mock you," said a voice which replied to the thoughts of Chéri. "You have committed three faults instead of one. You have been in an ill-humour because you did not like to be disappointed, and because you believe both beasts and men were only made to obey you. You put yourself in a passion, which is very wrong, and, lastly, you have been cruel to a poor animal that did not deserve to be ill-treated. I know you are much superior to a dog; but if it were a reasonable thing, and permissible for the great to ill-treat those who are beneath them, I would at this moment beat you--kill you, for a Fairy is stronger than a man. The advantage of being master of a great empire is not to be able to do all the harm that you may wish, but all the good that you can." Chéri confessed his fault, and promised to correct it; but he did not keep his word. He had been reared by a foolish nurse, who had spoilt him when he was little. If he wanted anything he had only to cry, pout, and stamp his foot, and this woman gave him all he wished for; and this had made him wilful. She had told him also, from morning to night, that he would be King some day, and that kings were very happy, because everybody must obey them, and treat them with great respect, and that no one could prevent their doing whatever they pleased.

When Chéri grew up, and was capable of reasoning, he soon learnt that there was nothing so odious as to be proud, vain, and obstinate. He made some efforts to correct himself, but he had unfortunately contracted all three defects; and a bad habit is very difficult to eradicate. It was not that he had naturally a bad heart: he wept with annoyance when he had committed a fault, and said, "How unfortunate am I in having to fight thus all my days against my pride and my temper! If they had corrected me when I was young, I should not now have had so much trouble."

His ring pricked him very often. Sometimes he stopped immediately, at others he persisted in his ill-behaviour; and what was very singular was, that it pricked him very slightly for a light offence, but when he did anything really wicked, it would make the blood spurt from his finger. At length he grew impatient at this, and wishing to sin at his ease, he threw away his ring. He thought himself the happiest of men when he was released from its pricking. He abandoned himself to all the follies which entered his head, till at length he became quite wicked, and nobody could bear him.

One day that Chéri was out walking he saw a young maiden so beautiful, that he determined to marry her. She was called Zélie, and she was as good as she was pretty. Chéri imagined that Zélie would be most happy to become a great Queen; but the girl told him, with much firmness, "Sire, I am only a shepherdess; I have no fortune; but in spite of that, I will not marry you." "Am I displeasing to you?" asked Chéri, a little offended. "No, Prince," replied Zélie; "I think you are very handsome; but what would be the advantage to me of your beauty, your riches, the fine clothes and magnificent carriages which you would give me, if the bad actions I should daily see you commit forced me to despise and hate you?"

Chéri became enraged with Zélie, and ordered his officers to carry her by force to his palace. He brooded all day long over the contempt with which this girl had treated him; but as he loved her, he could not make up his mind to harm her. Amongst the favourites of Chéri was his foster-brother, whom he had made his confidant. This man, whose inclinations were as low as his birth, flattered the passions of his master, and gave him very bad advice. When he saw Chéri so sad, he asked the cause of his grief. The Prince having replied that he could not bear the contempt of Zélie, and that he had determined to correct himself of his faults, because he must be virtuous to please her, this wicked man said, "You are very good to give yourself so much trouble for a little girl. If I were in your place, I would force her to obey me. Remember that you are King, and that it would be a shame for you to submit to the will of a shepherdess, who should be only too happy to be amongst your slaves. Make her fast on bread and water; put her in prison; and if she continue to refuse to marry you, let her die by torture, in order to teach others to yield to your wishes. You will be disgraced if it be known that a simple girl resists your pleasure, and all your subjects will forget that they are placed in this world only to serve you." "But," said Chéri, "shall I not be disgraced if I put to death an innocent girl? For in fact Zélie is guilty of no crime." "No one is innocent who refuses to obey your commands," replied the confidant. "But suppose you do commit an injustice, it is better to be accused of that than to let it be known that it is permitted to be wanting in respect for you or to contradict you."

The courtier knew Chéri's weak point; and the fear of seeing his authority diminished made such an impression on the King, that he stifled the good impulse which had given him the wish to correct himself. He resolved to go the same evening into the chamber of the shepherdess, and to ill-treat her if she still refused to marry him.

The foster-brother of Chéri, who feared some good change in him, assembled three young lords as wicked as himself to carouse with the King. They supped together; and the courtiers took care to cloud the reason of the poor Prince, by making him drink deep. During the repast they excited his anger against Zélie, and made him so ashamed of the tenderness he had shown for her, that he rose like a madman, swearing that he would make her obey him, or sell her the next day as a slave.

Chéri having entered the chamber in which the girl had been shut up, was surprised not to find her there, for he had the key in his pocket. He was in a frightful rage, and swore to be avenged on those whom he should suspect of having aided her to escape. His confidants hearing him speak thus, resolved to profit by his anger to rid themselves of a nobleman who had been Chéri's governor. This worthy man had occasionally taken the liberty of pointing out to the King his faults, for he loved him as though he had been his own son. At first Chéri had thanked him, but at length he grew impatient at being contradicted, and then began to think it was only from a spirit of opposition that his governor found fault with him, whilst every one else praised him. He ordered him, therefore, to retire from Court; but, notwithstanding this order, he admitted now and then that he was an honest man; that he no longer loved him, but that he esteemed him in spite of himself. The favourites were always in dread of the King recalling the governor, and they now imagined they had found a favourable opportunity of getting rid of him altogether. They represented to the King that Suliman (such was the name of the worthy man) had boasted that he would set Zélie at liberty. They bribed three men, who deposed that they had overheard Suliman speak to this effect; and the Prince, transported with anger, commanded his foster-brother to send a guard to bring the governor to him fettered like a criminal.

After having given these orders, Chéri retired to his room; but hardly had he entered it, when the ground trembled, he heard a tremendous clap of thunder, and Candid appeared before him. "I promised your father," said she to him, in a severe tone, "to give you advice, and to punish you if you refused to follow it. You have scorned that advice; you have retained but the form of a man; your crimes have changed you into a monster, the horror of heaven and earth. It is time I should fulfil my promise by punishing you. I condemn you to become like the beasts whose inclinations you already copy. You have resembled the lion in your rage, the wolf in your gluttony, the serpent by wounding him who has been your second father, and the bull by your brutality. You shall bear in your new form the trace of all these animals."

Hardly had she finished these words before Chéri saw with horror he was the monster she described. He had the head of a lion, the horns of a bull, the feet of a wolf, and the tail of a viper. At the same time he found himself in a great forest, on the brink of a fountain wherein he saw his horrible form reflected, and heard a voice, which said, "Consider attentively the state to which thy crimes have reduced thee. Thy mind is become a thousand times more frightful than thy body." Chéri recognised the voice of Candid, and in his fury he turned to throw himself on her, and, if it had been possible, to devour her; but he saw no one, and the same voice said to him, "I mock thy impotent fury, and will humble thy pride by placing thee under the power of thine own subjects."

Chéri thought that by flying from this fountain he should escape from much of his vexation, as he should no longer have his ugliness and deformity before his eyes: he rushed therefore into the wood; but hardly had he gone a few steps, when he fell into a hole which had been made to catch a bear, and immediately the hunters, who had climbed the trees to watch for their prey, descended, and having secured him with chains, led him towards the capital city of his kingdom.

On the way, instead of perceiving that he had drawn on himself this chastisement by his own fault, he cursed the Fairy, gnawed his chains, and gave himself up to his rage. As he approached the city to which they were conducting him, he observed great rejoicing going on; and the hunters having asked what had happened, were told that Prince Chéri, who had had no pleasure but in tormenting his people, had been destroyed in his chamber by a thunderbolt, for so they imagined. "The gods," said they, "could no longer support the excess of his wickedness, and have thus ridden the world of him. Four lords, accomplices of his crimes, thought to profit by the event, and to divide his kingdom amongst them; but the people who knew that it was their evil counsel which had corrupted the King, tore them to pieces, and have offered the crown to Suliman, whom the wicked Chéri had wished to put to death. This worthy Lord has just been crowned, and we celebrate this day as that of the deliverance of the kingdom; for Suliman is virtuous, and will restore to us peace and prosperity."

Chéri groaned with rage at hearing this discourse; but it was far worse when he arrived in the Great Square before the Palace. He saw Suliman on a superb throne, and heard the people wish him a long life, to repair all the evils which his predecessor had committed. Suliman made a sign with his hand to request silence, and said to the crowd: "I have accepted the crown which you offered me, but only to preserve it for Prince Chéri; he is not dead, as you believe. A Fairy has revealed this to me, and perhaps some day you will see him again as virtuous as he was in his youth. Alas!" continued he, shedding tears, "flatterers ruined him. I knew his heart, it was formed for virtue; and but for the poisonous discourse of those who surrounded him, he would have been a father to you. Detest his vices, but pity him, and let us all pray the gods to restore him to us. As for me, I should esteem myself too happy to bathe this throne with my blood, if I could see him ascend it again with those good dispositions which would make him fill it worthily."