Part 4

Cobez, who had been near getting into disgrace himself by his repeated failures, began now to have an inkling of the true state of the case. He now understood that Bolamah would not be satisfied with a wife who was constantly casting him, her lord, into the shade by her superiority; that a companion, to please him, must be content to be his humble admirer, and that, if he ever obtained the reward, it must be by the greatest caution and skillfulness on his own part. Now Cobez had an intimate friend called Meldon, a cunning sculptor, who carried his art to the highest degree of perfection. In his perplexity to Meldon Cobez went, and told him all about Bolamah, and of his unsuccessful attempts to satisfy him, and of his own desire to make Menilla his wife, and then promised him half the reward, if he would devise and assist him in carrying out some plan to fulfill his wishes. This Meldon consented to do, and on putting their heads together, concocted a scheme so much to their satisfaction that they proceeded at once to execute it. Meldon set himself to work, and made the perfect image of a woman; it was tall, and of the most symmetrical proportions. He moulded the features so perfectly, they had the form and the very expression of life; the eyes were of the darkest hazel, soft and varying in their light; the hair, silken, glossy, and black as the wing of a raven, fell over shoulders of marble whiteness, round and polished; her bosom was made to rise and fall with the breath that he breathed from his own lips into hers; her arms dazzled one to look upon them, and the taper fingers of the slender hand were taught to move gracefully over the strings of a harp; her brows were black, and arched like a bow, her lashes long and dark. It could move its limbs, and walk about with grace and dignity, unclose the lips, smile sweetly, and softly murmur, “Beautiful! Beautiful!” When it was completed, they arrayed it in queenly robes. When Cobez saw it finished, he was so delighted with the beautiful image, he was tempted to forget Menilla forever, and throw himself at its feet; but he presently thought of the little warm heart that was beating beneath her bosom, and felt that she was ten times dearer to him than this stately, cold beauty. They gave the image the name of Fauna, and set to work to plan how to bring her to the notice of Bolamah. So they contrived at last that Cobez should represent to him that a great lady had come from far to view his splendid palace; and having obtained Bolamah’s consent to its being exhibited to her by them, they timed their visit so well as to meet Bolamah at the door as they were alighting from their chariot. Bolamah, who had so long been distinguished for his high breeding, could not allow such a magnificent lady, like a queen in her mien and dress, to pass him without the ordinary expressions of politeness. He therefore returned her graceful salutation, and gave her his arm, and with a step as calm and measured as her own, traversed with her the walks and apartments of the grounds and of the palace. Everything met her approbation. Did he show her his gardens, his paintings, or take up his lute and sing, still the sweet smile hovered around her mouth, and the words, “Beautiful! Beautiful!” were murmured from her lips, till at last Bolamah, who could no longer resist her beauty, her grace, and, above all, her appreciation of himself, fell at her feet, telling her that she of all should be the chosen one who was to share his palace and his heart; and Fauna only drooped her proud head a little lower, and still murmured softly, “Beautiful! Beautiful!” till Bolamah was quite overcome with her dignity and sweet compliance to his wishes. Cobez was in transports when he found his plan had worked so admirably. Fauna was now the constant and approved companion of Bolamah; he never was willing to have her away from him a moment, and preparations for the marriage were put forward with haste, to the great joy of Cobez, who was convinced that Bolamah was now in earnest. At last all was in readiness, and the marriage took place, at which Fauna comported herself with such dignity as to win the approbation of Bolamah and the admiration of all that looked upon her; and when she was installed as mistress of the palace, her bearing toward the guests was so queenly, yet condescending, that even the ladies, who are apt to be jealous of their own sex, declared her the most fascinating woman in the universe.

So pleased was Bolamah with Fauna, that he doubled the reward that he had offered to Cobez, because he had been the means of bringing to his notice one who was so charming, and of procuring him so much happiness. This money Cobez divided with his friend Meldon, through whose skill he had been able to obtain it, and with part of their money they purchased two cottages; and when Cobez had married Menilla, and had a family about him, Meldon was godfather to his children, and his favorite, called after him, bade fair to equal him in skill in the art which Meldon loved.

Cobez and Menilla lived very happily together--(not quite as calmly, perhaps, as Bolamah and his spouse, whose domestic peace was a proverb in the country); but when Menilla was a little capricious and wayward, Cobez only said to Meldon, “There, she shows her flesh and blood, and her warm heart,” and he never thought of envying Bolamah and Fauna in the unvarying calmness of their life.

VI.

THE ROSE AND THE LILY.

Amid a garden of flowers the queen Rose and the queen Lily stood pre-eminent; but they, like all beauties, were extremely jealous of each other, and were not willing to divide the palm between them, but each one was anxious to be acknowledged as the “flower of the flowers.” Knowing the foibles of the two rival ladies, an old orange-tree sought to ingratiate himself into the favor of both by alternately flattering them in private, and laughing at the ridiculous pretensions of the one to the other, whispering to each that her charms could not be surpassed; and then the false old fellow used to entertain his friend, the oleander, who was not a lady’s man at all, with stories of the vanity of the two queens, and of the lucky strokes of flattery which had told so well on his susceptible listeners. But he soon found that his sincerity was going to be put to the test, for these partisans could no longer conceal their rivalry; so the Rose openly threw down the gauntlet to the Lily, and called upon all the flowers of the garden to pronounce upon their respective merits, and to decide which should henceforward take the lead among them. The old orange-tree was chosen by the consent of both the queens to be the chief judge, each of them thinking that the umpire was enlisted in her favor, and thereby that they had the game in their own hands. Now, the old gallant did not wish to have anything to say in the matter, but, as they were both so solicitous, he could not refuse them with a very good grace; and, to put on the best face, he invited all the flowers of the garden to an entertainment, at which he gave out that the question was to be put for ever at rest.

When the queen Lily received her invitation she said to one of her fair maidens, “The presumption of that flaunting Rose deserves its punishment, and, were it not that she would be vain enough to suppose that I am afraid to show myself beside her, I would decline meeting her altogether; but she would feed her vanity upon my refusal, therefore I shall give my orders to all the family to adorn themselves, and be in readiness to attend me to-morrow at midnight.”

The orange-tree spared neither labor nor expense in the preparations. A table was set out in a large arbor in the midst of the garden, with refreshments, and the walks were brilliantly illuminated by lamps which the glow-worms and the fire-flies furnished. A fine orchestra of birds was stationed on the top of the arbor, and long before midnight all were in readiness, and the orange-tree was awaiting, with the oleander beside him (who, by the way, had enjoyed a quiet pipe or two), the arrival of the guests. Many of the flowers came early, but the orchestra only struck up when the queen Rose approached; she was received with distinguished attention by the orange-tree, who presented her to the oleander. The ill-mannered old bachelor, instead of rising and leading her to a chair, merely nodded his head, and remained stiffly seated, much to the mortification of the orange-tree, whose own manners were polished, and very deferential to ladies, though I have no doubt that the oleander cared far more for them in his heart than the courtly, but rather deceptive, orange-tree.

The queen was dressed in her diamonds, and no one could blame her for the pride with which she looked around upon her attendants, who, blooming with youth and beauty, were filling the seats. There was the white rose (always a favorite), with her modest and unpretending manners; the damask, with her beautiful blush; and even the wild rose was there, and, as the queen observed to one of her intimates, “Though she had been brought up in the country, and not at all accustomed to fashionable society, there was a native grace about her, and a propriety of manner, which made her very presentable, owing, no doubt, to the good blood she had in her veins.” The queen was very gracious to all, and only once did she seem at all disturbed, and that was when the little prude, the moss-rose, passed her, making such a show of her modesty, in pretending to hide her face under her veil, when she knew well enough she was only enhancing her charms by so doing; and presently, when the little beauty stole shyly into a corner, as if to get out of sight, every one said she was striving to captivate Monsieur de Yellow Rose, a gentleman who had travelled in foreign parts, and was by all odds the most desirable beau in the room. Her artifice must have succeeded, for they presently commenced a flirtation with each other that lasted the whole evening. Now a second flourish of trumpets by the orchestra heralded the approach of the Lilies, and at the sound there was quite a sensation among the Roses, who all shook up their perfumes, and seemed not a little fluttered. As for the queen Rose, she was quite agitated, and her color heightened as the queen Lily, with a splendid train, swept in with such a calm and undisturbed dignity. First after the queen came the water-lily, who wore a crown of gold on her head, and had sailed down from her home in her gondola. When the queen Rose caught sight of her she whispered, “What a shame it was for the Lily to make pretension that the water-lily was related to her family, when every one knew well enough there was no foundation for it, excepting the mere accident of their having the same family name.” But her indignation went far beyond this when she saw the fleur-de-lis among the rest, and she cried, “This is unbearable; he is of a French family, not in any wise connected with her, who, I do not doubt, she urged so strongly to attend her that, with the good breeding and politeness for which his nation is so celebrated, he could not refuse.”

She now caught sight of the lily of the valley, and exclaimed, “So, so, my Lady Lily condescends at last to take notice of her humble little cousin, who has lived for years in retirement, and who, no doubt, would have remained there still had not some flowers of distinction noticed her, and brought her forward. I _was_ in hopes that the little thing would have had spirit enough to reject the advances made to her at such a late hour.” Notwithstanding her affecting to despise the pretensions of the Lily, the Rose was not at all at her ease; she felt that as the Lily sailed around the circle, with her graceful air, she was a rival to be feared, and was not so sanguine of gaining the victory as she had been. She saw that the placid mien of the queen Lily had not been without its effect in calling forth the admiration of those present; might they not even be led to overlook the beauty which she felt conscious far exceeded the Lily’s, by that lady’s self-possession and imposing carriage. At any rate, the Rose felt uneasy, and was quite nervous, and began rather to repent of her rashness in thus entering into the lists without first measuring the resources of her adversary.

But she need not have been so alarmed; the orange-tree knew too well what he was about to risk his standing with either of the ladies by siding with the other, so, after walking about among the company, and holding consultation with one and another, he at last gave the signal for the guests to gather round the table, and partake of the delicacies that were set before them. After their glasses had been filled he raised his voice, and proposed as a toast--“The Queen Rose and the Queen Lily;” and when they had drunk and lowered their glasses, he bowed to the rivals, and addressed them thus:--

“Ladies, when you compare one with the other you both do yourselves injustice. The charm of the Rose is her bloom and warmth--that of the Lily her exceeding fairness; both of you are pieces of perfection, but of different casts. Should you, Madam (addressing the Rose), attempt to attain the whiteness of the Lily, you would only succeed in dimming your natural brightness; and you (to the Lily), in striving to gain the glow of the Rose, would only mar your purity without reaching your desire. Be, therefore, content to shine resplendent each in the way that nature has marked out for you, and be not envious or displeased that another excels in a different way. Learn also that the Rose suffers nothing by a display of the perfection of the Lily, nor the Lily by being brought into comparison with the Rose, for the beauty of each will be only enhanced by the contrast.”

The oleander and the other flowers all concurred in the sentiments expressed by the old orange-tree; and the ladies themselves, though at first they were both a little angry, and inclined to accuse the orange-tree with treachery, after a few moments’ consideration, acknowledged the justice of the remarks just made, and the Rose came forward in a very frank manner and gave her hand to the Lily, who, on her part, received the concession with a graceful friendliness. After they had partaken of the delicacies, they left the table arm in arm, and thus promenaded for some time before the admiring gaze of the assembly; their attendants followed their example, and the Roses and Lilies, commingling instead of standing coldly apart, gave such a variety and animation to the scene that all declared there never had been so brilliant a fete in the garden as this. The oleander was so inspired by the scene that he quite melted from his apathetic state, and danced and laughed with the best, and invited the company, before they separated, to a banquet that he would prepare them the following week, and even engaged the orchestra in attendance to be present.

All parted with the greatest kindness and good feeling, and the amity thus commenced continued through their lives, and resulted in the mutual advantage of the queen Rose and the queen Lily.

VII.

THE GOLDEN CLOAK.

There once lived a King, who had reigned for many years over his kingdom, and with his Queen was idolized by his subjects. Only one thing was wanting to make his happiness complete. This was the want of an heir to his crown; and when, after a long period had elapsed, contrary to all expectations, a son was born to him, you may be sure there was great rejoicing throughout the land.

In that country, as in many others, it was the custom for all the male children born on the same day with the heir-apparent to the crown to be brought up with him, and devoted to his service. They were educated at the expense of the State, and the parents thought themselves indeed fortunate in having their children so magnificently provided for without exertion on their own part. Amid these youths Prince Anjah, who in reality was a paragon of beauty, stood pre-eminent. They were all fine looking and noble boys, excepting one, the dwarfish Balzebar, who was ugly in countenance and deformed in person, and of so weak an intellect that he was almost an idiot. _He was, beside this, both deaf and dumb._ The King was going to reject this poor little mischance at first, but the Queen, who was a wise and benevolent woman, represented to her husband that this misfortune, in being incapable of providing for himself, gave him a more especial claim on the protection of his sovereign, and besides that, as everything, however humble and despised, had its use, this unfortunate child might perhaps be destined to exert some powerful influence on the fortunes of their son. Her words made such an impression on the King’s mind, he consented to receive Balzebar with the rest, to the great joy of his parents, who would not otherwise have known what to do with him.

As the children grew older, Anjah, who was of a most generous and noble disposition, took Balzebar under his own particular care and guardianship, and thus prevented poor Balzebar from being harassed as he would have been by the ridicule of his more unthinking companions, who delighted in tormenting the poor soul, and in playing their tricks upon him. Balzebar in return became so attached to Prince Anjah, that he followed him about everywhere, as a dog might have done his master who was kind to him, and was never contented away from him. It was a curious sight to see the tall and finely-formed Anjah followed everywhere by this little stunted and ugly dwarf.

When the Prince had reached his eighteenth year, in accordance with the custom of that time, he was sent to a foreign country, where learning and the arts were in an advanced state, to be educated. All the young men, his followers, accompanied him, even Balzebar; for though the King and his ministers had at first decided that he should remain at home, fearing that the constant appearance of such an inferior personage in his train might be prejudicial to the dignity of the young Prince, yet, at the earnest solicitation of Anjah (who knew that the faithful creature would grieve himself to death if he should forsake him), he was permitted to depart with them. A fine vessel had been put in order for their use, and with a band of music the Prince and his retinue were escorted to the place where it was in waiting. Great crowds were collected on the shore, and the loud huzzas of the populace drowned the swelling notes of the trumpet as their Prince, with his white plumes floating to the wind, stepped on board the ship; but they could scarcely restrain a yell of contempt and derisive laughter as the little hump-backed mute followed after him up the plank with the agility of a monkey. Two and two the others embarked, and the young men stood on the upper deck together as the vessel moved off, and waved their adieus, till at last the helmet with the snowy plumes, which was the distinguishing mark of the Prince, could no longer be seen.

Anjah felt grieved at parting with his parents, and as his father was quite an old man, he thought it very probable that he should never see him again, for he was to remain five long years away from home; and the tears, in spite of his efforts, started forth as he saw the King watching the receding vessel, and knew what a pang his heart was suffering in thus separating from his child, the pride of his old age. But when distance shut from his sight the land and all familiar objects, the world seemed as it were opening before him, full of bright promise; he forgot his sorrow, and as the bark bounded lightly over the billows, his heart danced within him, buoyant with hope and pleasure. After a short and prosperous voyage, they came in view of the beautiful land which was their destination. They were received by the King of the country with distinguished honor, befitting their rank and importance. This King was reputed to be as wise as Solomon, and had collected to his court all the learned men of the world; and hither were sent the youth of high rank from all nations, to learn wisdom of these sages. But their parents would have done well to have kept them at home out of harm’s way, for the high-spirited young men who flocked to this Temple of Minerva thought their own wisdom far superior to that of the sages, and held all their acquirements in very light esteem; and if they learned anything at all, it was the knowledge which experience gives, which, to be sure, is the very best sort of lore, but which they might have acquired just as perfectly anywhere else.

Anjah had not been long there before he became initiated into the secret that Merea, the King’s daughter, was the most beautiful Princess in the world, and he pondered much more deeply on this fact than on the philosophy of the schools, and he strove with much greater assiduity to be the successful candidate for her heart and hand than for the prizes offered to the victorious scholar, or the laurel wreath of the poet. As he was far handsomer than all her other suitors, he had very little difficulty in gaining the young maiden’s particular and approving notice. His agreeable manners became a certain passport to her favor, and she so honored him above the rest, that Anjah, conscious of victory, assumed rather a high and triumphant air among those who were, like himself, captivated with the King’s charming daughter. He spent all his leisure time in her company, and did not rest easy till he had obtained her father’s permission to address his daughter, which he found little difficulty in gaining, for the King “as wise as Solomon,” saw very plainly that no more noble son-in-law would ever be likely to present himself. After Anjah had conversed with Merea, and found the maiden already won, he sent to seek his father’s consent to his betrothal to her, as the fame of her excellence and beauty had reached him. The King, his father, could think of no more suitable consort for his son than a Princess so charming and of such a high rank, so, sending his approval and blessing to his son, Anjah and Merea were publicly betrothed. Then, and not till then, Anjah applied himself sedulously to the study of the sciences which should fit him for governing a kingdom, and filling with dignity the exalted station to which Providence had destined him.

Three years passed away, and Anjah’s improvement in mind did honor to his teachers, and to his own perseverance and capacity; two years more, and the allotted time of his exile, (which owing to the society of Merea, had been anything but irksome,) would be fulfilled, and he was looking forward to the time when he should return with his bride to his native land, when a hasty summons came, commanding him to speed his departure, as his father was lying at the point of death, and longed once more to see his son alive. Anjah delayed not a moment to obey the call, though his heart was full of conflicting emotions--sorrow at being obliged to leave his betrothed, mingled with anxiety to see his father once more; and bidding adieu to the many friends that his kindness and affability had won, he went with his followers down to the vessel, which had been sent to convey him home, accompanied by the King, the Princess Merea, and all their retinue. The King, in bidding him farewell, pronounced a blessing, and conferred on him many valuable presents as marks of his favor; but the Princess, when she parted with him, gave him only one keepsake, but that was of surpassing richness; it was a cloak of beaten gold, curiously wrought, of the purest metal, so elastic and pliable that it fell like a mantle over his shoulders; she clasped it with her own hands about his neck, and then by signs bade Balzebar, who stood beside them, to make it his especial care, so that Anjah should not lose or be robbed of it.