Part 12

At once she hastened to the castle, and urged and entreated the count to give up Matilda, but he would not listen to her. He loved his bride too tenderly for that.

When his mother found that all her efforts to separate them were in vain, she left the castle in a fury, and drove away to her home. Never again, she vowed, would she set foot in the castle as long as Matilda was there, and the time would come when the young count would bitterly regret his choice of a wife.

Count Conrad was grieved at his mother’s anger, but he was too happy with Matilda to grieve long. He and she were soon married, and so sweet and gentle was her character that every day the count loved her better and was more contented with his choice.

When the count and Matilda had been married for a year, a child was born to them, a little boy so handsome and big and strong that the count was filled with joy and pride.

The nurse who had charge of the child was sent to the castle by the old countess, and both the count and Matilda were delighted at what they took to be a sign that his mother had forgiven them. This was not the case however. The old countess still hated Matilda with a bitter hatred, and had sent the nurse, hoping she might find some way to injure her, and if possible to separate her from the count.

Matilda always slept with the baby’s cradle close to her own bed. One night, when all the castle was wrapped in sleep, the old nurse slipped into the room, and lifting the child carefully from the cradle, she carried it away without waking anyone.

In the morning, as soon as Matilda awoke, her eyes as usual turned first of all to the cradle. She was greatly surprised to see that it was empty, and at once called the nurse and demanded what had become of the child.

The nurse pretended to be equally surprised. “I do not know,” she answered. “When I last saw him, he was asleep in the cradle beside your ladyship.”

Matilda was very much alarmed. The count was called, the castle searched thoroughly, and every one was questioned, but they could find no trace of the baby.

“It must be some evil spirit or enchantress who has carried him away,” said the nurse. “Last night I heard a beating of wings outside my window, and a strange sound of sighing and moaning, but I thought it was only some great bird that was lost in the night.”

This the nurse said not because she had really heard anything, but because this was part of a plot that she and the old countess had hatched between them.

Days passed, and still nothing was heard of the child. The count was in despair. Even Matilda herself was scarcely more dear to him than his infant son.

At the end of a year another child was born to Matilda, and this also was a son, a child as strong and handsome as the first.

But again, when the infant was only a few weeks old, the nurse stole it away secretly in the night, without being seen by anyone. In the morning the cradle was empty, and no trace of the child could be found anywhere.

The count was filled with grief and anguish. In his heart he secretly blamed Matilda because she had not awakened when the child was carried away. But he restrained himself from reproaching her. He could not help treating her somewhat coldly, however, and Matilda was grieved to the heart not only over the loss of the child, but because she feared her husband no longer loved her.

At the end of the year, still a third child was born, and now, in order to make sure that it should not be stolen, a watch was kept over the infant—by day and night; and though he slept by Matilda’s side, there was always some one else in the room with them.

But even this precaution could not keep the nurse from carrying out her wicked plans. When the child was still only a few weeks old, she managed one evening to put a sleeping potion in the repast that was served to Matilda, and in that of the attendant as well.

Night came and the child was laid in the cradle close to Matilda’s bed. The attendant took her place at the door. It was not long, however, before Matilda and the attendant fell into a deep sleep. The nurse then stole into the room, and lifting the child from the cradle, she carried it away with her as she had the two others.

When morning came, and it was discovered that this child too had been stolen, the count could restrain himself no longer. The woman who had been in attendance was thrown into prison, and he heaped reproaches on Matilda for having allowed this third child, the most beautiful of them all, to be stolen from her side.

“You should not be surprised,” said the wicked nurse, “and the attendant is not to blame. There is some enchantment in this, and if you will come aside with me into a private room, I will tell you of some things I have seen here in the castle in the last three years.”

The count was in a state to listen to anything, and he allowed the nurse to speak to him in private, and to tell him the story that she and the old countess had arranged between them.

She told him that though Matilda seemed so fair and gentle, she was in reality a wicked enchantress. This his mother had known, and it was for this reason she had been so unwilling that he should marry her, and for no other cause. During the night when the child was stolen, the nurse said, she had been awakened by a beating of wings, and had stolen to the door and looked out. There she had seen Matilda talking with a being that from its looks could be nothing but an evil spirit. Presently (so the nurse said) Matilda had gone back into her chamber, and when she returned she was carrying the child, and she had given it into the hands of the strange being. “After that,” said the nurse, “I saw no more, for I was afraid to look. But I make no doubt that that is what has become of all the children, and that the young countess caused the attendant to fall into an enchanted sleep so that she might have a chance to give the baby to the evil spirit.”

The count was so distracted with grief that he was ready to believe anything. He remembered what Matilda had told him of her godmother the nixie, and it seemed to him possible that this water spirit had some power over her that might cause her to sacrifice her children. In his distraction he sent for his mother to question her as to what she knew.

The old countess had been waiting for this summons. She came to him at once and in haste, and her heart was full of evil joy at the thought that at last she was to have Matilda in her power.

When she appeared before her son, however, she dissembled her joy, and pretended to be sad.

“Alas, my dear son,” said she, “what I feared has come to pass at last. I would have warned you before that the bride you had chosen was a wicked enchantress, but I knew you would not listen to me. Now, however, she has shown herself in her own wicked character. She has sacrificed her children to an evil spirit, and it is only right that she should be punished for her wickedness.”

The count knew not what to answer to this. He still loved Matilda, but if she had done such a wicked thing as to give her children to an evil spirit, she must suffer for it.

“What you say may be true,” said he to his mother. “As for me, I am so distracted that I no longer seem to understand anything. I will go away on a long journey, and I will leave Matilda in your hands. Do as you think best with her, only treat her as gently as you can.”

As soon as the count had said this he left his mother and went away, and it was well for his mother that he did so. She was so overjoyed at the way her plans had turned out that she could no longer hide her satisfaction. The count left the castle without bidding farewell to his wife. Matilda was cut to the heart when she found he had left her without a word. She was also terrified at the thought that now the old countess had her in her power.

Matilda had indeed good cause for fear. As soon as the count had gone, his mother caused an iron room to be built. All about this room were ovens arranged in such a way that the room could be made so hot that it would be impossible for anyone to remain in it for long and live. After it was finished, Matilda was induced to go into it, and as soon as she was inside, the door was shut and locked.

The moment Matilda found that she had been locked in the room alone, she suspected some evil. She looked about her for a way of escape, but the walls were of iron, and the room had been built in such a way that there were no windows.

“Alas,” said Matilda, “are my misfortunes never to end? Oh, my dear husband, how had you the heart to leave me here alone and in the power of that wicked woman?”

In her despair Matilda threw herself down upon the floor of the room. As she did so, she felt something hard in the pocket of her dress. She slipped her hand into it and drew out the wooden ball that she had so long forgotten. One more wish was left to her. Now, if ever, was her time of need. Holding it in her hand she whispered:

“Little ball, so great my need, Only you can help indeed; Save me now and set me free, Give my children back to me.”

Without her willing it, the ball slipped from her fingers and fell upon the floor, and was broken to pieces. From these fragments arose a silvery mist that spread through the room and filled it with a refreshing coolness. In the midst of the mist appeared the nixie, and in her arms she carried three beautiful little boys. They were the children who had been stolen from Matilda.

The nixie smiled upon her godchild and spoke in a voice like the flowing of cool waters. “At last you have remembered me and my gift,” she said. “Long have I been waiting for you to call upon me, my child. Now I am here, and no harm can come to you. Look! Here are the three children that the wicked old countess caused to be thrown into the water, thinking to drown them. But I saved them. They have been safe in my care until you should call upon me, and now I restore them to you.”

So saying, she placed the children in Matilda’s arms, and the mother clasped them to her, weeping with joy.

Meanwhile the men who had been in charge of the ovens that were to heat the room found that in spite of all they could do the walls of it remained cool. They went to the old countess and told her this. “Our fires are burning brightly,” they said, “and are so hot that we can scarcely go near them, and yet the walls of the room are even cooler than when we began.”

The countess could not understand how this could be. She was about to go and probe the mystery when she heard a clatter of hoofs outside, and a sound of loud voices. She looked from a window, and saw to her surprise and alarm that it was her son returning to the castle.

The count, indeed, had been unable to bear the thought of having left Matilda in his mother’s care. He feared some harm might come to her, and the farther he went, the more anxious he had grown. At last he had turned his horse and ridden back with all speed to tell Matilda that he still loved her, and that whatever their sorrow was, they would bear it together.

As soon as the old countess saw her son, she knew that her plots had failed, and she feared his wrath when he should find his wife shut in the iron room. She determined not to wait for that, and calling the wicked nurse, they escaped together from the castle and fled away, nobody knew whither.

As for the count, he hurried through the castle, searching everywhere for Matilda, and at last he came to the iron room. When he found that she was locked inside it, and saw the ovens all about it, he was like one distracted.

He turned the key and threw open the door, but he scarce dared look inside. He dreaded what he might see there.

When he did summon courage, however, what was his wonder to see not only his wife, but there in her arms the three children they had lost. He could hardly believe his eyes and was well-nigh crazy with joy. Flinging himself on his knees before her, he begged her to forgive him for having doubted her and for having left her as he had done.

Matilda, who was all mildness and sweetness, raised him from his knees and placed the children in his arms.

“See,” said she, “you have no longer any reason to mistrust me. These are our own dear children whom the nixie has returned to us.”

She then told the count the whole story, and when she came to an end they kissed each other and the children, and from that time on they lived in mutual love and happiness.

As for the wicked old countess, unless she died of spite, she may be living and wandering over the world to this very day.

WHY THE ANIMALS NO LONGER FEAR THE SHEEP

A FRENCH CREOLE STORY

LONG, long ago, when the animals were not as wise as they are now, they were all very much afraid of the sheep. Even the lion and tiger were afraid of him. They had never seen him angry, but he had such a solemn look, and his beard was so long, and his horns so strong and curly, that they were sure he would be very dangerous indeed if he were once roused.

One day old Papa Sheep invited Mr Tiger to come and spend the day with him, and he also invited him to bring Little Tiger along to play with Little Sheep, for Mr Tiger’s little boy was just the same age as Papa Sheep’s little boy.

Mr Tiger was very pleased at this invitation. He was glad to come himself, and he was glad to have Little Tiger become friendly with Little Sheep, for after a while Little Sheep would probably grow up and be just as big and strong and dangerous as his father was.

Mr Tiger and his little boy arrived quite early in the morning at the sheep’s house, and they brought a present with them, so that Papa Sheep would feel pleased with them. The present they brought was a basket of nice fresh green things such as all sheep like.

Papa Sheep thanked them for the present, and patted Little Tiger on the head, and then he told the two children to run out of doors and play, because he and Mr Tiger wanted to talk big talk together.

The little ones were very glad to do this, for it was bright and pleasant outside, and they liked it better than staying in the house.

Little Tiger was very frisky and frolicsome, and Little Sheep was too. At first they ran about and chased each other, and tried which could jump highest, but after a while they grew rougher in their play. Little Sheep butted Little Tiger with his forehead, and then Little Tiger raised his paw and gave Little Sheep a blow on the side of the head.

Though the Tiger was young and small, he was also very strong, and his blow sent Little Sheep tumbling heels over head. Little Sheep was not angry however. He got up and laughed and laughed. When he laughed he opened his mouth wide, and Little Tiger was very much surprised to see what little teeth the sheep had. He did not say anything at the time, however, but only went on with his play.

But when Little Tiger and his father were walking home together that evening, Little Tiger said, “Papa, I saw Little Sheep’s teeth to-day, and he only has little, little bits of teeth. They do not look as though they could bite anyone.”

“Hush, hush,” cried the Tiger. “You mustn’t talk in that way. Some one might hear you.”

“But it is true,” said Little Tiger. “Why, I wouldn’t be afraid of Little Sheep now, even if he _did_ get angry.”

“Will you be quiet?” cried the Tiger angrily. “If you ever say such a thing again I will box you so hard that you will forget whether you ever saw his teeth or not.”

All the same Mr Tiger could not help wondering whether what Little Tiger had said was true. How strange it would be if Little Sheep only had little weak teeth, and stranger still if Papa Sheep’s teeth were just the same!

That night, after all the Tiger family had gone to bed, Mr Tiger began to talk to his wife in a low tone.

“Do you know what Little Tiger said to-day?”

“No; how should I know? Some nonsense, no doubt.”

“He said he saw Little Sheep’s teeth, and that they were so small and weak he did not believe he could bite anybody.”

“Oh! oh! be quiet,” cried his wife. “Are you crazy to talk so? Suppose some one heard you, and went and told Papa Sheep what you had been saying. He certainly would come and tear us all to pieces.”

Mr Tiger said nothing in answer to this, but the less he said, the more he thought. At last he made up his mind to find out for a certainty whether Papa Sheep had biting teeth or no. For this purpose he in his turn invited Papa Sheep and Little Sheep to come and spend the day with him and his family.

Papa Sheep accepted the invitation, and on the day named he and Little Sheep arrived bright and early at the tiger’s house.

As before, the little ones went out of doors to play, and the big animals sat and talked inside the house.

Presently Mr Tiger brought out a bottle of wine and set it on the table, and he and the sheep began to drink together. The more Papa Sheep drank, the merrier he grew. He quite lost his solemn look. He began to laugh loudly, and he threw back his head and opened his mouth so wide that the tiger could see every tooth he had. And very poor teeth they were too—so small and weak that they were not fit for biting anything tougher than grass.

When Mr Tiger saw how small the sheep’s teeth were, he became very angry. He was in a rage to think he had ever been afraid of Papa Sheep, and had treated him with respect. With a roar he sprang at the old sheep, and gave him such a blow with his paw that the sheep fell down dead.

Little Tiger, outside, heard the noise, and he ran and looked in at the window. As soon as he saw what had happened, he called to Little Sheep, “Run, Little Sheep! Run away, quick! My papa is biting your papa, and if you do not run away he will bite you next.”

When Little Sheep heard this he was very much frightened. He did not stop to ask any questions. He took to his heels and ran home, crying bitterly all the way.

Old Mother Sheep saw him coming and hurried out to meet him. “What is the matter?” she cried. “Where is your father, and why are you crying so bitterly?”

“Oh! oh!” wept Little Sheep. “The Tiger! He has bitten Papa to pieces, and I’m afraid he’ll come and bite me too.”

When Mother Sheep heard this, she too began to weep and lament. “What shall we do now?” she cried. “Where shall we go? The Tiger will certainly come in search of us next, and tear us to pieces as he did your father.”

At this the Little Sheep raised his voice and wept more bitterly than ever.

Now it so chanced that when Mother Sheep ran out to meet Little Sheep she met him under a tall tree, and in this tree the Queen of the Birds was sitting. The Queen heard everything the two below her said, and she felt very sorry for them because they were in such distress and terror. She flew down to a branch just over their heads and spoke to them in a soothing manner.

“I have overheard all that you have been saying. This Tiger that you speak of is indeed a very wicked animal. You are in great danger, but do not be afraid. I will help you. I have a plan that may rid us of him for ever. Do you go back to your home. Shut yourself in and remain there quietly until I send you further word.”

When Mother Sheep heard this she was comforted, for she saw at once that it was a queen that was speaking to her. She promised to do as she was told, and with Little Sheep at her side she returned quickly to the house. There they shut themselves in and sat down to wait for what might happen.

Meanwhile the Queen flew away to the forest where she lived, and called all the birds together. “Listen now,” she said to them. “Do you know what the wicked Tiger has done? He has killed poor old Papa Sheep, who never did harm to anyone. We all know how cruel the Tiger is, but this is the worst thing he has done yet. It is time for us to rid the forest of him.”

The Queen then told them that she was going to give a grand ball. To this ball she intended to invite the Tiger. And not only should he be invited, but he should be her own partner for the dance. “When the music begins, you also must take partners,” said she. “We will all stand up to dance, and then I will give a sign, and all the herons must clap their wings together. When they do this, the rest of you must instantly hide your heads under your wings. When I make another sign, they will again clap their wings, and then you must take your heads out again. If the plan I have in my mind only works out well, we will soon put an end to this Tiger.”

The birds promised to obey their Queen exactly in everything, and then she sent several of them away to the Tiger’s house to invite him to the ball.

The Tiger was at home when the birds arrived, and he was very much flattered when he heard that the Queen wished him to come to her ball. He was even more delighted when he found that he was to be the Queen’s own partner in the dance.

He at once began to make himself ready, smoothing his whiskers, and brushing his coat until it shone.

The Tiger’s wife, however, was not at all pleased. “What nonsense is this?” cried she. “Why should you want to go to a ball? You have never been to court before, and you will not know how to act. You will be sure to do something foolish, and then every one will laugh at you.”

The Tiger became very angry when she said this. “Of course I shall go,” he cried. “I know how to behave as well as anyone. You only talk this way because you are jealous at not being asked. If you had been invited too, you would have been eager enough to go. But you cannot dissuade me, whatever you say.” The Tiger then hurried away through the forest to the place where the ball was to be held.

As soon as the Queen of the Birds saw him coming, she made haste to welcome him. A fine feast was already spread, and the Queen made the Tiger sit down at her right hand, and she offered him so many delicious things that he ate and drank a great deal more than was good for him. She also flattered him until he hardly knew what he was doing.

After the feast was ended the music began to play, and the birds all stood up to dance. Each one had a partner, but the Queen’s partner was the Tiger himself, as she had promised him. When all were in position, the Queen gave a sign, and the great herons clapped their wings together with a loud noise. The noise was so very loud and so very sudden that it made the Tiger blink, and in that moment that the Tiger blinked all the birds hid their heads under their wings.

When the Tiger looked about him again he was very much surprised to see all the birds standing there apparently without any heads. The Queen alone held her head high, and she looked at him with an angry air.

“How is this?” said she. “Are these your court manners? Do you not know that at court no one except the Queen ever dances without removing his head? Look about you. Do you see even a single one of the birds with his head on?”

“But—but—” stammered the Tiger, “after the dance is over, what will they do without their heads? Your Majesty, how could I take care of my wife and family without a head?”

“Oh,” said the Queen smiling, “after the dance is over they will have their heads again. It is only while they dance that they are without them. I will show you.”

With these words the Queen again gave a sign. At once all the herons clapped their wings, and in the instant when the Tiger blinked the birds drew their heads from under their wings. The Tiger looked about him. There the birds all stood just as before, only now their heads were in their proper places, and they were all looking at him with a scornful air.

“Oh, your Majesty,” cried the Tiger, “I am very much ashamed. I have never been to court before, and I did not know what was expected of me. If you will excuse me, I will run home and get rid of my head, and then I will return at once to dance with you.”

“Very well,” answered the Queen, “only do not be gone long”; and she smiled upon him sweetly.