 CHAPTER XII. A SHORT CHAPTER ABOUT CURDI. CURDI spent many nights in the mine. His father and he had taken Mrs. Peterson into the secret for the new mother could hold her tongue, which was more than could be said of all the miner's wives. But CURDI did not tell her that every night he spent in the mine, part of it went in earning a new red petticoat for her. Mrs. Peterson was such a nice good mother. All mothers are nice and good, more or less, but Mrs. Peterson was nice and good all more and no less. She made and kept a little heaven in that poor cottage on the high hillside for her husband and sent to go home to out of the low and rather dreary earth in which they worked. I doubted the princess was very much happier even in the arms of her huge great-grandmother than Peter and CURDI were in the arms of Mrs. Peterson. True, her hands were hot and chapped and lodged, but it was with work for them, and therefore, in the sight of the angels, her hands were so much the more beautiful. And if CURDI worked hard to get her a petticoat, she worked hard every day to get him comforts, which he would have missed much more than she would a new petticoat even winter. Not that she and CURDI ever thought of how much they worked for each other, that would have spoiled everything. When left alone in the mine, CURDI always worked on for an hour or two at first, following the load which, according to Glump, would lead at last into the deserted habitation. After that, he would set out on a reconnoitering expedition. In order to manage this, or rather the return from it, better than the first time, he had bought a huge ball of fine string, having learned a trick from Hoppo My Thumb, whose history his mother had often told him. Not that Hoppo My Thumb had ever used a ball of string. I should be sorry to suppose so far out in my classics, but the principle was the same as that of the pebbles. In the end of this string, he fastened to his pickaxe, which triggered no bad anchor, and then, with the ball in his hand, unrolling it as he went, set out in the dark through the natural gangs of the Goblin's territory. The first night or two, he came upon nothing worth remembering. So only a little of the home life of the cops in the various caves they called houses, failed in coming upon anything to cast light upon the foregoing design which kept the inundation for the present in the background. But at length, I think on the third or fourth night, he found, partly guided by the noise of their implements, a company of evidently the best sappers and miners amongst them, hard at work. What were they about? It could not well be the inundation, seeing that had in the meantime been postponed to something else. Then, what was it? He lurked and watched, every now and then in the greatest risk of being detected, but without success. He had again and again to retreat in haste. A proceeding rendered the more difficult that he had to gather up his string as he returned upon its course. It was not that he was afraid of the Goblins, but that he was afraid of their finding out that they were watched, which might have prevented the discovery at which he aimed. Sometimes, his haste had to be such that, when he reached the home towards morning, his string, for lack of time to wind it up as he dodged the cops, would be in what seemed most hopeless entanglement. But after a good sleep, though a short one, he always found his mother had got it right again. There it was, wound in a most respectable ball, ready for use the moment he should want it. I can't think how you do it, mother, he would say. I follow the thread, she would answer, just as you do in the mind. She never had more to say about it, but the less clever she was with her words, the more clever she was with her hands. And the less his mother said, the more curry believed she had to say. But still, he had made no discovery as to what the Goblin miners were about. End of Chapter 12 Chapter 13 of The Princess and the Goblin. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Princess and the Goblin by George McDonald Chapter 13 The Cobb's Creatures About this time, the gentleman whom the king had left behind him to watch over the princess had each occasion to doubt the testimony of his own eyes for more than strange were the objects to which they could bear witness. They were of one sort, creatures, but so grotesque and mishappen as to be more like a child's drawing upon his slate than anything natural. They saw them only at night while on guard about the house. The testimony of the man who first reported having seen one of them was that, as he was walking slowly around the house, while yet in the shadow, he cut sight of a creature standing on its hind legs in the moonlight with its forefeet upon a window ledge staring in at the window. Its body might have been that of a dog or wolf, he thought, but he declared on his honor that its head was twice the size it ought to have been for the size of its body and as round as a ball, while the face, which it turned upon him as it fled, was more like one cub by a boy upon the turnip and side which he is going to put a candle than anything else he could think of. It rushed into the garden. He sent an arrow after it and thought he must have struck it for it gave an unearthly howl and he could not find his arrow any more than the beast, although he searched all about the place where it vanished. They laughed at him until he was driven to hold his tongue and said he must have taken too long a pull at the ale jog. But before two nights were over, he had one to side with him, for he too had seen something strange, only quite different from that reported by the other. The description the second man gave of the creature he had seen was yet more grotesque and unlikely. They were both laughed at by the rest, but night after night another came away to this side, until at last there was only one left to laugh at all his companions. Two nights more passed and he saw nothing, but on the third he came rushing from the garden to the other two before the house, in such an agitation that they declared, for it was their turn now, that the band of his helmet was cracking under his chin with the rising of his hair inside it. Running with him into that part of the garden which I have already described, they saw a score of creatures, to not one of which they could give a name, and not one of which was like another, hideous and ludicrous at once, gambling on the lawn in the moonlight. The supernatural, or rather sub-natural, egliness of their faces, the lengths of their legs and necks and some, the apparent absence of both or either in others, made the spectators, although in one consent as to what they saw, yet doubtful, as I have said, of the evidence of their own eyes. And years as well, for the noises they made, although not loud, were as uncouth and varied as their forms, and could be described neither as grunts nor squeaks nor roars nor howls nor barks nor yells nor screams nor croaks nor hisses nor mews nor shrieks, but only as something like all of them mingled in one horrible dissonance. Keeping in the shade, the watchers had a few moments to recover themselves before the hideous assembly suspected their presence, but all at once, as a bycommon consent, they scamped off in the direction of a great rock and vanished before the men had come to themselves sufficiently to think of following them. My readers will suspect what these were, but I will now give them full information concerning them. They were, of course, household animals belonging to the goblins, whose ancestors had taken their ancestors many centuries before from the upper regions of light into the lower regions of darkness. The original stalks of these horrible creatures were very much the same as the animals now seen about farms and homes in the country, with the exception of a few of them, which had been wild creatures such as foxes and indeed wolves and small bears, which the goblins, from their proclivity towards the animal creation, had caught with cubs entamed. But in the course of time, all had undergone even greater changes than had passed upon their owners. They had altered. That is, their descendants had altered. It is such creatures as I have not attempted to describe except in the vaguest manner, the various parts of their bodies assuming in an apparently arbitrary and self-built manner the most abnormal developments. Indeed, so little did any distinct type predominate in some of the bewildering results that you could only have casted any known animal as the original. And even then, what likeness remained would be more one of general expression than of definable confirmation. But what increased the gruesomeness tenfold was that from constant domestic or indeed rather family association with the goblins, their countenances had grown in grotesque resemblance to the human. No one understands animals who does not see that every one of them, even amongst the fishes, it may be with a dimness and vagueness infinitely remote. It shadows the human. In the case of these, the human resemblance has greatly increased while their owners had sunk towards them, they had risen towards their owners. But the conditions of subterranean life being equally unnatural for both, while the goblins were worse, the creatures had not improved by the approximation and its result would have appeared far more ludicrous than consoling to the warmest lover of animal nature. I shall now explain how it was that just then these animals began to show themselves about the king's country house. The goblins, as Coyote had discovered, were mining on at work both day and night in divisions urging the scheme after which he lay in wait. In the course of their tunneling they had broken into the channel of a small stream but the break being at the top of it, no water had escaped to interfere with their work. Some of the creatures, hovering as they often did about their masters, had found the hole and had with the curiosity which had grown to a passion from the restraints of their unnatural circumstances proceeded to explore the channel. The stream was the same which ran out by the seat on which Irene and her king papa had sat, as I have told, and the goblin creatures found a jolly fun to get out for a romp on smooth lawn such as they had never seen in all their poor, miserable lives. But although they had partaken enough of the nature of their owners to delight in annoying and alarming any of the people whom they met on the mountain, they were, of course, incapable of designs of their own or of intentionally furthering those of their masters. For several nights after the men at arms were at length of one mind as to the fact of the visits of some horrible creatures, whether bodily or spectral, they could not yet say. They watched with special attention that part of the garden where they had last seen them. Perhaps, indeed, they gave inconsequences too little attention to the house, but the creatures were too cunning to be easily caught, nor were the watchers quick-eyed enough to describe the head or the keen eyes in it, which, from the opening when the stream is shooed, would watch them in turn, ready the moment they should leave the lawn to report the place clear. End of Chapter 13 Chapter 14 of The Princess and the Goblin This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public to me. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Princess and the Goblin by George Macdonald, Chapter 14 THAT NIGHT WEEK During the whole of the week, Irene had been thinking every other moment of her promise to the old lady, although even now she could not feel quite sure that she had not been dreaming. Could it really be that an old lady lived up in the top of the house with pigeons and a spinning wheel and a lamp that never vent out? She was, however, nonetheless determined on the coming Friday to ascend the three stairs, walk through the passages with many doors, and try to find a tower in which she had either seen or dreamed her grandmother. Her nurse could not help wondering what had come to the child. She would sit so thoughtfully silent and even in the midst of a game with her, would so suddenly fall into a dreamy mood. But Irene took care to betray nothing, whatever efforts Lutie might make to get at her thoughts. And Lutie had to say to herself, What an odd child she is! And give it up. At length the longed for Friday arrived and lest Lutie should be moved to watch her, Irene and David to keep herself as quiet as possible. In the afternoon she asked for her doll's house and went on arranging and rearranging the various rooms and their inhabitants for a whole hour. Then she gave a sigh and threw herself back in her chair. One of the dolls would not sit and another would not stand and they were all very tiresome. Indeed there was one who would not even lie down, which was too bad. But it was now getting dark and the darker it got the more excited Irene became and the more she felt it necessary to be composed. I see you want your tea, princess. Said the nurse. I will go and get it. The room feels close. I will open the window a little. The evening is mild. It won't hurt you. There's no fair of that, Lutie. Said Irene, wishing she had put off going for tea till it was darker when she might have made her attempt with every advantage. I fancy Lutie was longer in returning than she had intended, for when Irene, who had been lost in thought, looked up she saw it was nearly dark and at the same moment cut sight of a pair of eyes, bright with a green light, gloring at her through the open window. The next instant something leaped into the room. It was like a cat with legs as long as a horse is, Irene said, but its body no bigger and its legs no bigger than those of a cat. She was too frightened to cry out, but not too frightened to jump from a chair and run from the room. It is plain enough to every one of my readers what she ought to have done. And indeed Irene thought of it herself, but when she came to the foot of the old stair, just outside the nursery door, she imagined the creature running up those long essence after her and pursuing her through the dark passages which, after all, might lead to no tower. That thought was too much. Her heart failed her and turning from the stair she rushed along to the hall, thence finding the front door open, she darted into the court pursuit. At least she thought so by the creature. No one happening to see her on she ran, unable to think for fear and ready to run anywhere to elude the awful creature with distilled legs. Not daring to look behind her, she rushed straight out of the gate and up the mountain. It was foolish indeed, thus, to run farther and farther from all who could help her, as if she had been seeking a fit spot for the goblin creature to eat her in his leisure. But that is the way fear serves us. It always sides with the thing we're afraid of. The princess was soon out of breath with the running uphill, but she ran on, but she fancied the horrible creature just behind her. Forgetting that, had it been after her such long legs and so's must have overtaken her long ago. At last she could no longer run and fell, unable even to scream, by the roadside where she lay for some time half dead with terror. But finding nothing lay hold of her and her breath beginning to come back, she ventured at length to get half up and peer anxiously about her. It was now so dark she could see nothing, not a single star was out. She could not even tell in what direction the house lay and between her and home she fancied the dreadful creature lying ready to pounce upon her. She saw now that she ought to have run up the stairs at once. It was well as she did not scream. For although very few of the goblins had come out for weeks, a stray idler or two might have heard her. She sat down upon a stone, and nobody but one who had done something wrong could have been more miserable. She had quite forgotten her promise to visit her grandmother. A raindrop fell on her face. She looked up and for a moment her terror was lost in astonishment. At first she thought the rising moon had left her place and drawn nigh to see what could be the matter with the little girl, sitting alone without hat or cloak on the dark bare mountain, but she soon saw she was mistaken for there was no light on the ground at a feet and no shadow anywhere. But a great silver globe was hanging in the air, and as she gazed at a lovely thing her courage revived. If she were but indoors again she would fear nothing, not even the terrible creature with the long legs. But how was she to find her way back? What could that light be? Could it be? No, it couldn't. But what if it should be? Yes, it must be her great-great grandmother's lamp, which guided her pigeons home through the darkest night. She jumped up, she had but to keep that light in view and she must find the house. Her heart grew strong, speedily, yet softly, she walked down the hill hoping to pass the watching creature unseen. Dark as it was, there was little danger now of choosing the wrong road, and which, was most strange, the light that filled her eyes from the lamp instead of blinding them for a moment to the object upon which they next fell enabled her for a moment to see it, despite the darkness. But looking at the lamp and then dropping her eyes, she could see the road for a yard or two in front of her, and this saved her from several falls, for the road was very rough. But all at once, to her dismay, it vanished and the terror of the beast which had left her the moment she began to return again laid hold of her heart. The same instant, however, she caught the light of the windows and knew exactly where she was. It was too dark to run, but she made what haste she could and reached the gate in safety. She found out the house door, still open, ran through the hull, and without even looking into the nursery, found it straight up the stair, and the next, and the next, then turning to the right, ran through the long avenue of silent rooms and found her way at once to the door at the foot of the tower stair. When first the nurse missed her, she fancied she was playing her trick, and for some time took no trouble about her. But at last, getting frightened, she had begun to search, and when the princess entered, the whole household was hither and thither all over the house, hunting for her. A few seconds after she reached the stair of the tower, they had even begun to search the neglected rooms in which they would never have thought of looking had, they not already searched every other place they could think of in vain. But by this time, she was locking at the old lady's door. End of Chapter 14 Chapter 15 After the Princess and the Goblin This is the Libra Box recording. All Libra Box recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibraBox.org. The Princess and the Goblin by George MacDonald, Chapter 15 Wo-win and then Spun. Come in, Irene. said the silvery voice of her grandmother. The princess opened the door and peeped in. But the room was quite dark, and there was no sound to the spinning wheel. She grew frightened once more, thinking that, although the room was there, the old lady might be a dream after all. Every little girl knows how dreadful it is to find the room empty where she thought somebody was. But Irene had to fancy for a moment that the person she came to find was nowhere at all. She remembered, however, that at night she spun only in the moonlight and concluded that, must be by, there was no sweet, be-like humming. The old lady might be somewhere in the darkness. Before she had time to think another thought, she heard her voice again, saying as before, Come in, Irene. From the sound she understood at once that she was not in the room beside her. Perhaps she was in her bedroom. She turned across the passage, feeling her way to the other door. When her hand fell on the lock, again the old lady spoke. Shut the door behind you, Irene. I always close the door of my work room when I go to my chamber. Irene wanted to hear her voice so plainly through the door. Having shut the other, she opened it and went in. Oh, what a lovely heaven to reach from the darkness and fear through which she had come. The soft light made her feel as if she were going into the heart of the milkiest pearl, while the blue walls and their silver stars for a moment perplexed her with the fancy that they were in reality the sky which she had left outside a minute ago covered with rain clouds. I've lighted a fire for you, Irene. You're cold and wet. Said her grandmother. Then Irene looked again and saw that what she had taken for a huge bouquet of red roses on a low stand against the wall was in fact a fire which burned in the shapes of the loveliest and reddest roses, glowing gorgeously between the heads and wings of two cherubs of shining silver. And when she came nearer, she found that the smell of roses with which the room was filled came from the fire roses on the earth. Her grandmother was dressed in the loveliest pale blue velvet over which her hair no longer white but of a rich golden color streamed like a cataract. Here, falling, and all gathered heaps, there rushing away in smooth shining falls. And ever as she looked, the hair seemed pouring down from her head and vanishing in a golden mist year rich reached the floor. It flowed from under the edge of a circle of shining silver set with alternated pearls and opals. On her dress was no ornament whatever, neither was there a ring on her hand or a necklace or a casinet about her neck. But her slippers glimmered with the light of the Milky Way, for they were covered with seed pearls and opals in one mass. Her face was that of a woman of three and twenty. The princess was so bewildered with astonishment and admiration that she could hardly thank her and drew nigh with timidity feeling dirty and uncomfortable. The lady was seated on a load chair by the side of the fire with hands outstretched to take her for the princess hummed back with a troubled smile. Why, what's the matter? Asked her grandmother. You haven't been doing anything wrong. I know that by your face, though it is rather miserable. What is the matter, my dear? And she still held out her arms. Dear grandmother, said Irene, I'm not so sure that I haven't done something wrong. I ought to have run up to you at once when the long-legged cat came in at the window instead of running out in the mountain and making myself such a fright. You were taken by surprise, my child, and you are not so likely to do it again. It is when people do wrong things willfully that they are more likely to do them again. Come. And still she held out her arms. But, grandmother, you're so beautiful and grand with your crown on, and I am so dirty with mud and rain. I should quite spoil your beautiful blue dress. With a merry little laugh the lady sprung from her chair, more lightly far than Irene herself could. Cut the child to her bosom and kissing the tear-stained face over and over sat down with her in her lap. Oh, grandmother, you'll make yourself such a mess! cried Irene, clinging to her. You darling, do you think I care more for my dress than for my little girl? Besides, look here. As she spoke she sat her down and Irene saw to her dismay that the lovely dress was covered with the mud of her fall on the mountain road. But the lady stooped to the fire and, taking from it, by the stalk in her fingers, one of the burning roses pasted once and again and at her time over the front of her dress and when Irene looked not a single stain was to be discovered. There, said her grandmother, you won't mind coming to me now? But Irene again hung back, eyeing the flaming rose which the lady held in her hand. You're not afraid of the rose, are you? She said about to throw it into the earth again. Oh, don't please, cried Irene. Won't you hold it to my frock and my hands and my face? And I'm afraid my feet and my knees want it too. No, answered her grandmother smiling a little sadly as she threw the rose from her. It is too hot for you yet. It would set your frock in a flame. Besides, I don't want to make you clean tonight. I want your nurse and the rest of the people to see you as you are, for you will have to tell them how you ran away for fear of the long-legged cat. I should like to wash you, but they would not believe you then. Do you see that bath behind you? The princess looked and saw a large oval tub of silver shining brilliantly in the light of the wonderful lamp. Go and look into it, said the lady. Irene went and came back very silent with her eyes shining. What do you see, asked her grandmother. The sky and the moon and the stars, she answered, elect as if there was no bottom to it. The lady smiled a pleased, satisfied smile and was silent also for a few moments. Then she said, Any time you want a bath, come to me. I know you have a bath every morning, but sometimes you want one at night, too. Thank you, grandmother. I will. I will indeed. Answered Irene and was again silent for some moments, thinking. Then she said, How was it, grandmother, that I saw your beautiful lamp, but not the light of it only, but the great, round, silvery lamp itself, hanging alone in the great open air high up? It was your lamp, I saw, wasn't it? Yes, my child, it was my lamp. Then how was it? I don't see a window all round. When I please, I can make the lamp shine through the walls, shine so strong that it melts them away from before the sight, and shows itself just as you saw it. But, as I told you, it is not everybody can see it. How is it that I can, then? I'm sure I don't know. It is a gift born with you, and one day I hope everybody will have it. But how do you make it shine through the walls? Ah, that you would not understand if I were to try ever so much to make you. Not yet, not yet. But— Added the lady, rising. You must sit in my chair while I get you the present I have been preparing for you. I told you my spinning was for you. It is finished now, and I'm going to fetch it. I have been keeping it warm under one of my brooding pigeons. Irene sat down in the low chair, and her grandmother left her, shutting the door behind her. The child sat gazing, now at the rose fire, now at the starry walls, now at the silver light, and a great quietness grew in her heart. If all the long-legged cats in the world had come rushing at her, then she would not have been afraid of them for a moment. How this was she could not tell. She only knew there was no fear in her, and everything was so right and safe that it could not get in. She had been gazing at the lovely lamp for some minutes fixedly. Turning her eyes, she found the wall had vanished, for she was looking out on the dark cloudy night. But though she heard the wind blowing, none of it blew upon her. In a moment more, the clouds themselves parted, or rather vanished like the wall, and she looked straight into the starry herds, flashing gloriously in the dark blue. It was but for a moment. The clouds gathered again and shut out the stars, the wall gathered again and shut out the clouds, and there stood the lady beside her with the loveliest smile on her face, and a shimmering ball in her hand, about the size of a pigeon's egg. There Irene, there is my work for you. She said, holding out the ball to the princess, she took it in her hand and looked at it all over. It sparkled a little, and shone here and there, but not much. It was of a sort of grey whiteness, something like spun glass. Is this all you're spinning, grandmother? She asked, all since you came to the house. There is more there than you think. How pretty it is. What am I to do with it, please? That I will now explain to you. Answered the lady, turning from her and going to her cabinet. She came back with a small ring in her hand. Then she took the ball from Irene's and did something with the ring. Irene could not tell what. Give me your hand. She said, Irene held up her right hand. Yes, that is the hand I want. Said the lady and put the ring on the forefinger of it. What abuse of the ring! Said Irene. What is the stone called? It is a fire opal. Please, am I to keep it? Always. Oh, thank you, grandmother. It's prettier than anything I ever saw, except those. Of all colours in your— Please, is that your crown? Yes, it is my crown. The stone in your ring is of the same sort, only not so good. It has only red, but mine have all the colours you see. Yes, grandmother. I will take such care of it, but— She added, hesitating. But what? Asked her grandmother. What am I to say when Lucy asks me where I got it? You will ask her where you got it. Answer the lady's smiling. I don't see how I can do that. You will, though. Of course I will, if you say so. But, you know, I can't pretend not to know. Of course not. But don't trouble yourself about it. You will see when the time comes. So saying, the lady turned and threw the little boil into the rose fire. Oh, grandmother! exclaimed Irene. I thought you had spun it for me. So I did, my child, and you've got it. No, it's burnt in the fire. The lady put her hand in the fire, brought out the ball, glimmering as before, and held it towards her. Irene stretched out her hand to take it, but the lady turned and going to her cabinet, opened a drawer, and laid the ball in it. Have I done anything to vex you, grandmother? Said Irene pitifully. No, my darling, but you must understand that no one ever gives anything to another properly and really without keeping it. That ball is yours. Oh, I'm not to take it with me. You are going to keep it for me. You are to take it with you. I have fastened the end of it to the ring on your finger. Irene looked at the ring. I can't see it there, grandmother. She said, feel a little away from the ring towards the cabinet. Said the lady, oh, I do feel it, exclaimed the princess, but I can't see it. She added, looking closely to her outstretched hand. No, the thread is too fine for you to see it. You can only feel it. Now you can fancy how much spinning that took, though it does seem such a little ball. But what use can I make of it if it lies in your cabinet? That is what I will explain to you. It would be of no use to you. It wouldn't be yours at all if it did not lie in my cabinet. Now listen, if ever you find yourself in any danger, such, for example, as you were in this same evening, you must take off your ring and put it under the pillow of your bed. Then you must lay your finger, the same that wore the ring, upon the thread, and follow the thread wherever it leads you. Oh, how delightful! It will lead me to you, grandmother, I know. Yes, but remember it may seem to you a very roundabout way indeed, and you must not doubt the thread. Of one thing you may be sure, that while you hold it, I hold it too. It is very wonderful. Said Irene thoughtfully, then suddenly becoming aware she jumped up crying. Oh, grandmother, here have I been sitting all this time in your chair, and you standing! I beg your pardon. The lady laid her hand on her shoulder and said, Sit down again, Irene. Nothing pleases me better than to see anyone sit in my chair. I am only too glad to stand so long as anyone will sit in it. How kind of you! Said the princess and sat down again. It makes me happy, said the lady. But— Said Irene, still puzzled. Won't the thread get in somebody's way and be broken, if the one end is fast to my ring and the other laid in your cabinet? You will find all that arrange itself. I am afraid it is time for you to go. Might I not stay and sleep with you tonight, grandmother? No, not tonight. If I had meant you to stay tonight, I should have given you a bath. But you know everybody in the house is miserable about you, and it would be cruel to keep them so all night. You must go downstairs. I am so glad, grandmother. You didn't say go home. But this is my home. Might I call this my home? You may, my child, and I trust you will always think it your home. Now come. I must take you back without anyone seeing you. Please, I want to ask you one question more. Said Irene. Is that because you have your crown on that you look so young? No, child. Answer to grandmother. It is because I felt so young this evening that I put my crown on, and I thought you would like to see your old grandmother in her best. Why do you call yourself old? You're not old, grandmother. I am very old indeed. It is so silly of people. I don't mean you, for you are such a tiny and couldn't know better. But it is so silly of people to fancy that old age means crookedness and witheredness and feebleness and sticks and spectacles and rheumatism and forgetfulness. It is so silly. Old age has nothing whatever to do with all that. The right old age means strength and beauty and mirth and courage and clear eyes and strong painless limbs. I am older than you are able to think and- And look at you, grandmother. Said Irene, jumping up and flinging her arms about her neck. I won't be so silly again. I promise you. At least, I'm rather afraid to promise. But, if I am, I promise to be sorry for it. I do. I wish I were as old as you, grandmother. I don't think you are ever afraid of anything. Not for long at least, my child. Perhaps by the time I am two thousand years of age, I shall indeed never be afraid of anything. But I confess, I have sometimes been afraid about my children. Sometimes about you, Irene. Oh! I'm so sorry, grandmother. Tonight, I suppose you mean. Yes, a little tonight. But a good deal when you had all but made up your mind that I was a dream and no real great-great-grandmother. You must not suppose I am blaming you for that. I daresay you could not help it. I don't know, grandmother. Said the princess, beginning to cry. I can't always do myself as I should like. And I don't always try. I'm very sorry, anyhow. The lady stooped, lifted her in her arms and sat down with her in her chair, holding her close to her bosom. In a few minutes, the princess had sobbed herself to sleep. How long she slept, I do not know. And she came to herself she was sitting in her own high chair at the nursery table with her doll's house before her. End of Chapter 15 Chapter 16 of The Princess and the Goblin This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Princess and the Goblin by George McDonald, Chapter 16. The Ring The same moment her nurse came into the room, sobbing. When she saw her sitting there, she started back with a loud cry of amazement and joy. Then, running to her, she caught her in her arms and covered her with kisses. My precious darling princess, where have you been? What has happened to you? We've all been crying our eyes out and searching the house from top to bottom for you. Not quite from the top, thought Irene to herself, and she might have added. Not quite to the bottom. Perhaps if she had known all, but the one she would not and the other she could not say. Oh, Lucy, I've had such a dreadful adventure. She replied and told her all about the cat with the long legs and how she ran out upon the mountain and came back again. But she said nothing of her grandmother or her lamb. And there we've been searching for you all over the house for more than an hour and a half. Exclaimed the nurse. But that's no matter. Now we've got you. Only princess, I must say. She added, her mood changing. What you ought to have done was to call for your own Lucy to come and help you. Instead of running out of the house and up the mountain in that wild, I must say, foolish fashion. Well, Lucy, said Irene quietly. Perhaps if you had a big cat, all legs running at you. You might not exactly know what was the wisest thing to do at the moment. I wouldn't run up the mountain anyhow. Return, Lucy. Not if you had time to think about it. But when Mary's creatures came at you that night on the mountain, you were so frightened yourself that you lost your way home. This would stop to Lucy's reproaches. She had been on the point of saying that the long-legged cat must have been a twilight fancy of the princesses, but the memory of the horrors of that night and after talking to which the king had given her in consequence prevented her from saying what after all she did not have to leave. Having a strong suspicion that the cat was a goblin, for she knew nothing of the difference between the goblins and their creatures. She counted them all just goblins. Without another word she went and got some fresh tea and bread and butter for the princess. Before she returned, the whole household, headed by the housekeeper, burst into the nursery to exult over their darling. The gentlemen at arms followed, and were ready enough to believe all she told them about the long-legged cat. Indeed, though wise enough to say nothing about it, they remembered with no little horror just such a creature amongst those they had surprised at their calm balls upon the princess's alarm. In their own hearts they blamed themselves for not having kept better watch, and their captain gave orders that from this night the front door and all the windows in the ground floor should be locked immediately to sunset and opened after upon no pretend whatever. The men at arms redoubled their vigilance, and for some time there was no further cost of alarm. When the princess woke the next morning, her nurse was bending over her. How your ring does glow this morning, Princess? Just like a fiery rose. She said. Does it, Lutie? Returned, I read. Who gave me the ring, Lutie? I know I've had it a long time, but where did I get it? I don't remember. I think it must have been your mother gave it you, Princess. But really, for as long as you've worn it, I don't remember that ever I heard. Answered her nurse. I will ask my king for part the next time he comes. Said I read. End of Chapter 16 Chapter 17 of The Princess and the Goblin This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Princess and the Goblin by George McDonald Chapter 17 Springtime The spring so dear to all creatures, young and old, came at last, and before the first few days of it had gone, the king rode through its budding valleys to see his little daughter. He had been in a distant part of his dominions all the winter, for he was not in the habit of stopping in one great city or of visiting only his favorite country houses, but he moved from place to place that all his people might know him. Wherever he journeyed, he kept a constant lookout for the ablest and best men to put into office, and wherever he found himself mistaken and those he had appointed incapable or unjust, he removed them at once. Hence, you see, it was his care of the people that kept him from seeing his princess so often as he would have liked. You may wonder why he did not take her about with him, but there were several reasons against his doing so. And I suspect her great-great-grandmother had had a principal hand in preventing it. Once more Irene heard the bugle blast, and once more she was at the gate to meet her father as he rode up on his great white horse. After they had been alone for a little while, she thought of what she had resolved to ask him. Please, King Papa, she said. Will you tell me why I got this pretty ring? I can't remember. The King looked at it. A strange, beautiful smile spread like sunshine over his face, and an answering smile, but at the same time a questioning one, spread like moonlight over Irene's. It was your Queen Mama's once, he said. And why isn't it hers now? asked Irene. She does not want it now, said the King, looking grave. Why doesn't she want it now? Because she's gone, where all those rings are made. And when shall I see her? asked the Princess. Not for some time yet. Answered the King, and the tears came into his eyes. Irene did not remember her mother, and did not know why her father looked so, and why the tears came in his eyes, but she put her arms round his neck and kissed him, and asked no more questions. The King was much disturbed on hearing the report of the gentleman at arms, concerning the creatures they had seen, and I presume would have taken Irene with him that very day, but for what the presence of the ring on her finger assured him of. About an hour before he left, Irene saw him go up the old stair, and he did not come down again till they were just ready to start, and she thought with herself that he had been up to see the old lady. When he went away he left other six gentlemen behind him, that there might be six of them always on guard. And now, in the lovely spring weather, Irene was out in the mountain the greater part of the day, and the warmer hollows there were lovely primroses, and not so many that she ever got tired of them. As often as she saw a new one opening, an eye of light in the blind earth, she would clap her hands with gladness, and unlike some children I know, instead of pulling it would touch it as tenderly as if it had been a new baby, and having made its acquaintance would leave it as happy as she found it. She treated the plants on which they grew like birds' nests, every fresh flower was like a new little bird to her. She would pay visits to all the flower nests she knew, remembering each by itself. She would go down on her hands and knees beside one and say, Good morning. Are you all smelling very sweet this morning? Goodbye. And then she would go to another nest and say the same. It was a favorite amusement with her. There were many flowers up and down, and she loved them all, but the primroses were her favorites. They're not too shy, and they're not a bit forward, she would say to Lutie. There were goats too about over the mountain, and when the little kids came she was as pleased with them as with the flowers. The goats belonged to the miners mostly, a few of them to Curdie's mother, but there were a good many vile ones that seemed to belong to nobody. These the goblins counted theirs, and it was upon them partly that they lived. They set snares and dug pits for them, and did not scruple to take what tame ones happened to be caught, but they did not try to steal them in any other manner, because they were afraid of the dogs the hill people kept to watch them, for the knowing dogs always tried to bite their feet. But the goblins had a kind of sheep of their own, very queer creatures, which they drove out to feed at night, and the other goblin creatures were wise enough to keep good watch over them, for they knew they should have their bones by and by. End of Chapter 17 Chapter 18 of The Princess and the Goblin This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information on the volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Princess and the Goblin by George MacDonald Chapter 18 Curdie's Clue Curdie was as watchful as ever, but was almost getting tired of his ill success. Every other night or so he followed the goblins about, as they went on digging and boring, and getting as near them as he could, wash them from behind stones and rocks, but as yet he seemed no nearer finding out what they had in view. As at first, he always kept hold of the end of his string, while his pickets left just outside the hole by which he entered the goblin's country from the mine, continued to serve as an anchor and hold fast the other end. The goblins, hearing no more noise in that quarter, had ceased to apprehend an immediate invasion and kept no watch. One night, after dodging about and listening till he was nearly falling asleep with weariness, he began to roll up his ball, for he had resolved to go home to bed. It was not long, however, before he began to feel bewildered. One after another he passed goblin houses, caves, that is occupied by goblin families, and at length was sure they were many more than he had passed as he came. He had to use great caution to pass and see, they lay so close together. Could his string have led him wrong? He still followed, winding it, and still it led him into more thickly populated quarters, until he became quite uneasy and indeed apprehensive, for although he was not afraid of the cobs, he was afraid of not finding his way out. But what could he do? It was of no use to sit down and wait for the morning. The morning made no difference here. It was dark, and always dark, and if his string failed him, he was helpless. He might even arrive within a yard of the mine and never know it. Seeing he could do nothing better, he would at least find where the end of his string was, and, if possible, how it had come to play him such a trick. He knew by the size of the ball that he was getting pretty near the last of it, when he began to feel a tugging and pulling at it. What could it mean? Turning a sharp corner, he thought he heard strange sounds. These grew as he went on to a scuffling and growling and squeaking, and the noise increased until turning a second sharp corner, he found himself in the midst of it, and the same moment tumbled a whirl-ballowing mass, which he knew must be a knot of the cob's creatures. Before he could recover his feet, he had caught some great scratches on his face, several severe bites on his legs and arms. But as he scrambled to get up, his hand fell upon his pickaxe, and before the horrid beast could do him any serious harm, he was laying about with it right and left in the dark. The hideous cries which followed him, the satisfaction of knowing that he had punished some of them pretty smoothly for their rudeness, and by the scampering and the retreating house, he perceived that he had routed them. He stood for a little, weighing his battleaxe in his hand, as if it had been the most precious lump of metal, but indeed no lump of gold itself could have been so precious at the time as that common tool. Then, untied the end of the string from it, put the ball in his pocket, and still stood thinking. It was clear that the cob's creatures had found his axe, had between them carried it off, and had so let him, he knew not where. But for all his thinking, he could not tell what he ought to do, until suddenly he became aware of a glimmer of light in the distance. Without a moment's hesitation, he set out for it, as fast as the unknown and rugged way would permit. Yet again, turning a corner, led by the dim light, he spied something quite new in his experience of the underground regions, a small irregular shape of something shining. Going up to it, he found it was a piece of mica, or muscovy glass, called sheep's silver in Scotland, and the light flickered as if from a fire behind it. After trying and waiting for some time to discover an entrance to the place where it was burning, he came up linked to a small chamber in which, an opening high in the wall revealed a glow beyond. To this opening he managed to scramble up, and then he saw a strange sight. Below sat a little group of coblins around a fire, the smoke of which vanished in the darkness far aloft. The sides of the caves were full of shining minerals like those of the Palace Hall, and the company was evidently of a superior order for every one wore stones about head, or arms or waist, shining dull gorgeous colors in the light of the fire. Nor had Curdie looked long before he recognized the king himself, and found that he had made his way into the inner apartment of the royal family. He had never had such a good chance of hearing something. He crept through the hole as softly as he could, scrambled a good way down the wall towards them without attracting attention, and then sat down and listened. The king, evidently the queen, and probably the crown prince, and the prime minister were talking together. He was sure of the queen by her shoes, whereas she warmed a feet of the fire, he saw them quite plainly. That will be fun! said the one he took for the crown prince. It was the first whole sentence he heard. I don't see why you should think it such a grand affair! said his stepmother, tossing her head backward. You must remember my spouse. Interposed his majesty as if making excuse for his son. He has got the same blood in him. His mother. Don't talk to me of his mother. You positively encourage his unnatural fancies. Whatever belongs to that mother ought to be cut out of him. You forget yourself, my dear. Said the king. I don't. Said the queen. Nor you either. If you expect me to approve of such coarse tastes, you will find yourself mistaken. I don't wear shoes for nothing. You must acknowledge, however. The king said with a little groan. That this at least is no whim of hairlips, but a matter of state policy. You are well aware that his gratification comes purely from the pleasure of sacrificing himself to the public good. Does it not, hairlip? Yes, father. Of course it does. Only it will be nice to make her cry. I'll have the skin taken off between her toes and tie them up till they grow together. Then her feet will be like other peoples, and there will be no occasion for her to wear shoes. Do you mean to insinuate I've got toes, you unnatural wretch? Cried the queen, and she moved angrily toward hairlip. The counselor, however, who was betwixt them, leaned forward so as to prevent her touching him, but only as of to address the prince. Your royal highness, he said. Possibly requires to be reminded that you have got three toes yourself, one on one foot, two on the other. Shouted the queen trumpantly. The counselor, encouraged by this mark of favor, went on. Ah, it seems to me your royal highness, it would greatly endear you to your future people, proving to them that you are not the less one of themselves, that you had the misfortune to be born of a son-mother. If you were to command upon yourself, the comparatively slight operation which, in a more extended form, you so wisely meditate with regard to your future princess. Laughed the queen louder than before, and the king and the minister joined in a laugh, hairlip growled, and for a few moments the others continued to express their enjoyment of his disconfiture. The queen was the only one Curdie could see with any distinctness. She sat sideways to him, and the light of the fire shone full upon her face. He could not consider her handsome. Her nose was certainly broader at the end than its extreme length, and her eyes, instead of being horizontal, were set up like two perpendicular eggs, one on the broad, the other on the small end. Her mouth was no bigger than a small buttonhole until she left, when it stretched from her ear to ear, only to be sure her ears were very nearly in the middle of her cheeks. Anxious to hear everything they might say, Curdie ventured to slide down a smooth part of the rock just under him, to a projection below upon which he thought to rest, but whether he was not careful enough or the projection gave way, down he came with a rush on the floor of the cavern, bringing with him a great rumbling shower of stones. The goblins jumped from their seats in more anger than consternation, for they had never yet seen anything to be afraid of in the palace, but when they saw Curdie with his pick in his hand their rage was mingled with fear, for they took him for the first of the invasion of miners. The king notwithstanding drew himself up to his full height of four feet, spread himself to his full breadth of three-and-a-half, for he was the handsomest and squarest of all the goblins, and starting up to Curdie, planted himself without spread feet before him and set with dignity. Pray, what right have you in my palace? The right of necessity, your majesty. Answered Curdie. I lost my way, and did not know where I was wandering to. How did you get in? By a hole in the mountain. But you are a miner. Look at your pickaxe. Curdie did look at it, answering. I came upon it lying on the ground, a little way from here. I tumbled over some wild beasts who were playing with it. Look, your majesty. And Curdie showed him how he was crushed and bitten. The king was pleased to find him behaved more politely than he had expected from what his people had told him concerning the miners, for he attributed it to the power of his own presence, but he did not therefore feel friendly to the intruder. You will oblige me by walking out of my dominions at once. He said, well-knowing what a mockery lay in the words. With pleasure. If your majesty will give me a guide. Said Curdie. I will give you a thousand. Said the king with a scoffing ear of magnificent liberality. One will be quite sufficient. Said Curdie. But the king uttered a strange shout. Half halloo, half roar, an inrushed goblin still the cave was warming. He said something to the first of them which Curdie could not hear, and it was passed from one to another till in a moment the farthest in the crowd had evidently heard and understood it. They began to gather about him in a way he did not relish, and he retreated towards the wall. They pressed upon him. Stand back. Said Curdie, grasping his pickaxe tighter by his knee. They only grinned and pressed closer. Curdie without himself and began to rhyme. Ten, twenty, thirty. You're also very dirty. Twenty, thirty, forty. You're also thick and snorty. Thirty, forty, fifty. You're also puff and sniffy. Forty, fifty, sixty. Beast and man so mixedy. Fifty, sixty, seventy. Mixedy, maxedy, leventy. Sixty, seventy, eighty. All your cheeks so slady. Seventy, eighty, ninety. All your hands so flinty. Eighty, ninety, hundred. All together dundred. The goblins fell back a little when he began, and made horrible grimaces all through the rhyme, as if eating something so disagreeable that it set their teeth on edge and gave them the creeps. But whether it was the rhyming words were most of them no words at all, for a new rhyme being considered the more efficacious. Curdie had made it on the spur of the moment, or whether it was that the presence of the king and queen gave it them, courage, I cannot tell. But the moment the rhyme was over, they crowded on him again, and out shot a hundred long arms, with a multitude of thick, nailless fingers at the ends of them, totally holed upon him. Then Curdie heaved up his axe. But being as gentle, as courageous, and not wishing to kill any of them, he turned the end which was square, and blumped like a hammer, and with that came down a great blow on the head of the goblin nearest him. Hard as the heads of all goblins were, he thought he must feel that. And so he did, no doubt, but he only gave a horrible cry and sprung it Curdie's throat. Curdie, however, drew back in time, and just at that critical moment, remembered the vulnerable part of the goblin body. He made a sudden rush at the king and stamped with all his might on his majesty's feet. The king gave him his unkingly howl, and almost fell into the fire. Curdie then rushed into the crowd, stamping right and left. The goblins drew back, howling on every side as he approached, but they were so crowded that few of those he attacked could escape his tread, and the shrieking and roaring that filled the cave would have appalled Curdie, but for the good hope it gave him. They were tumbling over each other in heaps in their eagerness to rush from the cave when a new assailant suddenly faced him. The queen, with flaming eyes and expanded nostrils, her hair standing half up from her head, rushed at him. She trusted in her shoes, liver of granite, hollowed like French sabbots. Curdie would have endured much rather than hurt a woman, even if she was a goblin, but here was an affair of life and death. Forgetting her shoes, he made a great stamp on one of her feet, but she instantly returned it with a very different effect, causing him frightful pain and almost disabling him. His only chance with her would have been to attack the granite shoes with his pickaxe, but before he could think of that, she had caught him up in her arms and was rushing with him across the cave. She dashed him into a hole in the wall with a force that almost stunned him. But although he could not move, he was not too far gone to hear her great cry, and the rush of multitudes of soft feet followed by the sounds of something heaved up against the rock, after which came a multitude in his patter of stones falling near him. The last had not ceased when he grew very faint, for his head had been cut badly, and at last insensible. When he came to himself, there was a perfect silence about him, in an utter darkness, but for the merest glimmer in one tiny spot. He crawled to it and found that they had heaved his slab against the mouth of the hole past the edge of which a poor little gleam found its way from the fire. He could not move at a hair-breath, for they had piled a great heap of stones against it. He crawled back to where he had been lying, in the faint hope of finding his pickaxe. But after a vain search he was at last compelled to acknowledge himself in an evil plight. He sat down and tried to think, but soon fell fast asleep. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Princess and the Goblin by George McDonald, Chapter 19 Goblin Councils He must have slept a long time, for when he awoke, he felt wonderfully restored. Indeed, almost well, and very hungry. There were voices in the outer cave. Once more then, it was night, for the goblins slept during the day and went about their affairs during the night. In the universal and constant darkness of their dwelling, they had no reason to prefer the one arrangement to the other. But from aversion to the Sun people, they chose to be busy when there was least chance of their being met, either by the miners below, when they were borrowing, or by the people of the mountain above, when they were feeding their sheep or catching their goats. And indeed, it was only when the Sun was away that the outside of the mountain was sufficiently like their own dismal regions to be indurable to them mole-eyes. So thoroughly had they become unaccustomed to any light beyond that of their own fires and torches. Curtis listened and soon found that they were talking of himself. How long will it take? asked Hairlip. Not many days, I should think. Answered the King. They are poor feeble creatures, those Sun people, and want to be always eating. We can go a week at a time without food, and be all the better for it. But I've been told they eat two or three times every day. Can you believe it? They must be quite hollow inside, not at all like us, nine-tenths of whose bulk is solid flesh and bone. Yes, I judge a week of starvation will do for him. If I may be allowed a word. Interpose the Queen. And I think I ought to have some voice in the matter. The wretch is entirely at your disposal, my spouse. Interrupted the King. He is your property. You caught him yourself. We should never have done it. The Queen laughed. She seemed in far better humor than the night before. I was about to say. She resumed. That it does seem a pity to waste so much fresh meat. What are you thinking of, my love? Said the King. The very notion of starving him implies that we are not going to give him any meat, either salt or fresh. I'm not such a stupid as that comes to. Return to her majesty. What I mean is that by the time he is starved there will hardly be a picking upon his bones. The King gave a great laugh. Well, my spouse, you may have him when you like. He said. I don't fancy him for my part. I am pretty sure he is tough eating. That would be to honor instead of punish his insolence. Return the Queen. But why should our poor creatures be deprived of so much nourishment? Our little dogs and cats and pigs and small bears would enjoy him very much. You are the best housekeeper, my lovely Queen. Said her husband. Let it be so by all means. Let us have our people in and get him out and kill him at once. He deserves it. The mischief he might have brought upon us now that he had penetrated so far as our most retired citadel is incalculable. Or rather let us tie him hand and foot and have the pleasure of seeing him torn to pieces by full torchlight in the great hall. Better and better! Cried the Queen and the Prince together, both of them clapping their hands, and the Prince made an ugly noise with his hairlip just as if he had intended to be one at the feast. But? Added the Queen, be thinking herself. He is so troublesome. For poor creatures as they are, there is something about those sun people that is very troublesome. I cannot imagine how it is that with such superior strength and skill and understanding as ours, we permit them to exist at all. Why do we not destroy them entirely and use their cattle and grazing lands at our pleasure? Of course we don't want to live in their horrid country. It is far too glaring for our quieter and more refined tastes. But we might use it as a sort of outhouse, you know. Even our creature's eyes might get used to it, and if they did grow blind, that would be of no consequence, provided they grew fat as well. But we might even keep their great cows and other creatures, and then we should have a few more luxuries, such as cream and cheese, which at present we only taste occasionally when our brave men have succeeded in carrying some off from their farms. It is worth thinking of. Said the King. And I don't know why you should be the first to suggest it, except that you have a positive genius for conquest. But still, as you say, there is something very troublesome about them. And it would be better, as I understand you to suggest, that we should starve him for a day or two first, so that he may be a little less frisky when we take him out. Once there was a goblin living in the hole, busy he was a goblin, a shoe without a sole. By came a birdie. Goblin, what do you do? Cobble out his dirty upper lather shoe. What's the good of that, sir? said the little bird. Why it's very pats, sir, plain without a word. Where it is all a hole, sir? Never can be holes. Why should their shoes have souls, sir, when they got no souls? What's that horrible noise? Cried the queen, shuttering from pot-metal head to granite shoes. I declare, said the king with solemn indignation. It's the sudden creature in the hole. Stop that disgusting noise! Cried the crown prince valiantly, getting up and standing in front of the heap of the stones with his face towards Kurti's prison. Do now, or I'll break your head! Break away! Shouted Kurti and began singing again. Once there was a goblin living in a hole. I really cannot bear it, said the queen. If I could only get at his horrid toes with my slippers again. I think we had better go to bed, said the king. It's not time to go to bed, said the queen. I would, if I was you, said Kurti. Impertinent wretch! Said the queen with the utmost scorn in her voice. An impossible if! Said his majesty with dignity. Quite! Returned Kurti and began singing again. Go to bed, goblin do. Help the queen take off her shoe. If you do, it will disclose a horrid set of sprouting toes. What a lie! Roared the queen in rage. By the way, that reminds me. Said the king. That for as long as we have been married, I have never seen your feet, queen. I think you might take off your shoes when you go to bed. They positively hurt me sometimes. I will do as I like. Retorted the queen sulkily. You ought to do as your own hubby wishes you. Said the king. I will not. Said the queen. Then I insist upon it. Said the king. Apparently his majesty approached the queen for the purpose of following the advice given by Kurti. For the latter heard a scuffle and then a great roar from the king. Will you be quiet then? Said the queen wickedly. Yes, yes, queen. I only meant to coax you. Hands off. Cried the queen trumpently. I'm going to bed. You may come when you like. But as long as I am queen, I will sleep in my shoes. It is my royal privilege. Hairlip, go to bed. I'm going. Said Hairlip sleepily. So am I. Said the king. Come along then. Said the queen. And mind you are good, or I'll? Oh no, no, no. Scream the king in the most supplicating of tones. Kurti heard only a muttered reply in the distance and then the cave was quite still. They had left the fire burning and the light came through brighter than before. Kurti thought it was time to try again if anything could be done. But he found he could not get even a finger through the chink between the slab and the rock. He gave a great rush with his shoulder against the slab, but it yielded no more than if it had been part of the rock. All he could do was to sit down and think again. By and by he came to the resolution to pretend to be dying in the hope they might take him out before his strength was too much exhausted to let him have a chance. Then, for the creatures, if he could but find his axe again, he would have no fear of them, and if it were not for the queen's horrid shoes, he would have no fear at all. Meantime, until they should come again at night, there was nothing for him to do but forge new rhymes. Now, his only weapons. He had no intention of using them at present, of course, but it was well to have a stock, for he might live to want them, and the manufacture of them would help to violate a time. That same morning early, the princess woken a terrible fright. There was a hideous noise in her room, creatures snarling and hissing and rocketing about as if they were fighting. The moment she came to herself, she remembered something she had never thought of again, what her grandmother told her to do when she was frightened. She immediately took off her ring and put it under her pillow. As she did so she fancied, she felt a finger and thumb take it gently from under her palm. It must be my grandmother! She said to herself, and the thought gave her such courage that she stopped to put on her dainty little subverse before running from the room. While doing this, she caught sight of a long cloak of sky blue, thrown over the back of a chair by the bedside. She had never seen it before, but it was evidently waiting for her. She put it on, and then, feeling with the forefinger of her right hand, soon found her grandmother's thread, which she proceeded at once to follow, expecting it would lead her straight up the old stair. When she reached the door she found it went down, and ran along the floor, so that she had almost a crawl in order to keep a hold of it. Then, to her surprise and somewhat to her dismay, she found that instead of leading her toward the stair, it turned in quite the opposite direction. It led her through certain narrow passages towards the kitchen, turning a side year she reached it, and guiding her to a door which communicated with a small backyard. Some of the maids were already up, and this door was standing open. Across the yard, the thread still ran along the ground, until it brought her to a door in the wall which opened upon the mountain side. When she had passed through, the thread rose to about half her height, and she could hold it with ease as she walked. It led her straight up the mountain. The cause of her alarm was less frightful than she supposed. The cook's great black cat, pursued by the housekeeper's terrier, had bounced against her bedroom door, which had not been properly fastened, and the two had burst into the room together and commenced a battle royal. How the nurse came to sleep through it was a mystery, but I suspect the old lady had something to do with it. It was a clear warm morning. The wind blew deliciously over the mountain side. Here and there she saw a late prim rose, but she did not stop to call upon them. The sky was mottled with small clouds. The sun was not yet up, but some of their fluffy edges had caught its light, and hung out orange and gold-colored fringes upon the air. The dew lay in round drops upon the leaves, and hung like tiny diamond earrings from the blades of grass about her path. How lovely that bit of gossamer is! Thought the princess, looking at a long undulating line that shone at some distance from her up at the hill. It was not the time for gossamer's though, and Irene soon discovered that it was her own thread she saw. Shining on before her in the light of the morning. It was leading her, she knew not wither, but she had never in her life been out before sunrise, and everything was so fresh and cool and lively and full of something coming that she felt too happy to be afraid of anything. After leading her up a good distance, the thread turned to the left, and down the path upon which she and Lutie had met Curdie. But she never thought of that, for now in the morning light, with its far outlook over the country, no path could have been more open and airy and cheerful. She could see the road almost to the horizon, along which she had so often watched her king papa and his troop come shining with a buckle blast cleaving the air before them, and it was like a companion to her. Down and down the path went, then up, and then down, and then up again, getting rugged and more rugged as it went, and still along the path went a silvery thread, and still along the thread went Irene's little rosy tipped poor finger. By and by she came to a little stream that jabbered in Prattville down the hill, and up the side of the stream went both path and thread, and still the path grew rougher and steeper, and the mountain grew wilder. Till Irene began to think she was going a very long way from home, and when she turned to look back, she saw that the level country had vanished and the rough, bare mountain had closed in about her. But still on went the thread, and on went the princess. Everything around her was getting brighter and brighter as the sun came near, till at length his first rays all at once alighted on the top of a rock before her, like some golden creature fresh from the sky. Then she saw that the little stream ran out of a hole in that rock, that the path did not go past the rock, and that the thread was leading her straight up to it. A shadow ran through her from head to foot when she found that the thread was actually taking her into the hole out of which the stream ran. It ran out, babbling joyously, but she had to go in. She did not hesitate. Right into the hole she went, which was high enough to let her walk without stooping. For a little way there was a brown glimmer, but at the first turn it all but seized, and before she had gone many paces she was in total darkness. Then she began to be frightened indeed. Every moment she kept feeling the thread backwards and forwards, as she went farther and farther into the darkness of the great hollow mountain. She kept thinking more and more about her grandmother and all that she had said to her, and how kind she had been, and how beautiful she was, and all about her lovely room and the fire of roses, and the great lamp that scented light through the stone walls. And she became more and more sure that the thread could not have gone there itself, and that her grandmother must have scented. But it tried her dreadfully when the path went down very steep, and especially when she came to places where she had to go down rough stairs, and even sometimes a ladder. Through one narrow passage after another, over lumps of rock and sand and clay, the thread guided her, until she came to a small hole through which she had to creep, finding no change on the other side. Shall I ever get back? She thought, over and over again, wondering at herself that she was not ten times more frightened and often feeling as if she were only walking in the story of a dream. Sometimes she heard the noise of water, a doll gurgling inside the rock. By and by she heard the sounds of blows, which came nearer and nearer, but again they grew duller, and almost died away. In a hundred directions she turned a biddy into the guiding thread. At last she spied a dull red shine, and came up to the mica window, and then, away and round about and right into a cavern. There glowed the red embers of a fire. Here the thread began to rise. It rose as high as her head and higher still. What should she do if she lost her hold? She was pulling it down. She might break it. She could see it far up, glowing as red as her fire-hole-pell in the light of the embers. But presently she came to a huge heap of stones piled in a slope against the wall of the cavern. On these she climbed and soon recovered the level of the thread only, however, to find the next moment that it vanished through the heap of stones and left her standing on it with her face to the solid rock. For one terrible moment she felt as if her grandmother had forsaken her. The thread, which the spider set spun far over the seas, which her grandmother had set in the moonlight and spun again for her, which she had tempered in the rose-fire and tied to her opal ring, had left her, had gone where she could no longer follow it, had brought her into a horrible cavern and there left her. She was forsaken indeed. When shall I wake? She said to herself in agony. But the same moment knew it that it was no dream. She threw herself upon the heap and began to cry. It was well she did not know what creatures, one of them with stone shoes on her feet, were lying in the next cave. But neither did she know who was on the other side of the slab. At length the thought struck her that at least she could follow the thread backwards and thus get out of the mountain and home. She rose at once and found the thread. But the instant she tried to feel it backwards it vanished from her touch. Forwards it let her hand up to the heap of stones. Packwards it seemed nowhere. Neither could she see it as before in the light of the fire. She burst into a wailing cry and again threw herself down on the stones. End of chapter 20 The Escape As the princess lay and sobbed she kept feeling the thread mechanically, following it with her finger many times up to the stones in which it disappeared. By and by she began, still mechanically, to poke her finger in after it between the stones as far as she could. All at once it came into her head that she might remove some of the stones and see where the thread went next. Almost laughing at herself for never having thought of this before she jumped to her feet. Her fear vanished. Once more she was certain her grandmother's thread could not have brought her there just to leave her there. And she began to throw away the stones from the top as fast as she could, sometimes two or three at a handful, sometimes taking both hands to lift one. After clearing them away a little, she found that the thread turned and went straight downwards. Hence, as the heap sloped a good deal, growing of course wider towards its base, she had to throw away a multitude of stones to follow the thread. But this was not all for she soon found that the thread, after going straight down for a little way, turned first sideways in wind direction, then sideways in another, and then shot at various angles, hither and thither inside the heap so that she began to be afraid that to clear the thread she must remove the whole huge gathering. She was dismayed at the very idea, but losing no time, set to work with a will, and with aching back and bleeding fingers and hands she worked on, sustained by the pleasure of seeing the heap slowly diminish and begin to show itself on the opposite side of the fire. Another thing which helped to keep up her courage was that, as often as she uncovered a turn of the thread, instead of lying loose upon the stone, it tightened up. This made her sure that her grandmother was at the end of it somewhere. She had got about halfway down when she started, and nearly fell with fright. Close to her ears, as it seemed, a voice broke out singing, Jabber Bother Smash You'll have it in a crash Jabber Smash Bother You'll have the worst of the bother Smash Bother Jabber Here, Curdie stopped, either because he could not find a rhyme to Jabber Or because he remembered what he had forgotten when he woke up at the sound of Irene's labors, that his plan was to make the goblins think he was getting weak, but he had uttered enough to let Irene know who he was. It's Cutty! She cried joyfully Hush! Hush! came Curdie's voice again from somewhere Speak softly Why, you were singing loud, said Irene Yes, but they know I am here, and they don't know you are. Uh, who are you? I'm Irene, answered the princess. I know who you are quite well. You're Curdie. Why, how did you ever come here, Irene? My great-great-grandmother sent me, and I think I found out why. You can't get out, I suppose. No, I can't. What are you doing? Clearing away a huge heap of stones, there's a princess. Exclaimed Curdie in a tone of delight, but still speaking a little more than a whisper. I can't think how you got here, though. My grandmother sent me after her thread. I don't know what you mean, said Curdie. But so you're there, it doesn't much matter. Oh, yes, it does, returned Irene. I should never have been here but for her. You can tell me all about it when we get out then. There's no time to lose now, said Curdie. And Irene went to work as fresh as when she began. There's such a lot of stones, she said. It will take me a long time to get them all away. How far on have you got? Asked Curdie. I've got about the half away, but the other half is ever so much bigger. I don't think you will have to move the lower half. Do you see the slab laid up against the wall? Irene looked and felt about with her hands and soon perceived the outlines of the slab. Yes, she answered. I do. Then I think... Rejoined Curdie. When you have cleared the slab, about halfway down, or a bit more, I shall be able to push it over. I must follow my thread. Returned Irene. Whatever I do. What do you mean? Exclaimed Curdie. You will see when you get out. Answered the princess and went on harder than ever. But she was soon satisfied that what Curdie wanted done and what the thread wanted done were one and the same thing. For she not only saw that by following the turns of the thread she had been clearing the face of the slab, but that a little more than halfway down the thread went through the chink between the slab and the wall into the place where Curdie was confined so that she could not follow it any farther until the slab was out of her way. As soon as she found this, she said in a right joyous whisper. Now, Curdie, I think if you were to give a great push, the slab would tumble over. Stand quite clear of it then. Said Curdie. And let me know when you are ready. Irene caught up the heap and stood on one side of it. Now, Curdie. She cried. Curdie gave a great rush with his shoulder against it. I would tumble the slab on the heap and outcrop Curdie over the top of it. You saved my life, Irene. He whispered. Oh, Curdie, I'm so glad. Let's get out of this horrid place as fast as we can. That's easier said than done. Returned he. Oh no, it's quite easy, said Irene. We have only to follow my threat. I'm sure that it's going to take us out now. She had already begun to follow it over the fallen slab into the hole, while Curdie was searching the floor of the cavern for his pickaxe. Here it is. He cried. No, it is not. He added in a disappointed tone. When can it be then? I declare it's a torch. That is jolly. It's most better than my pickaxe. Much better if it weren't for those stone shoes. He went on as he lighted the torch by blowing the last embers of the expiring fire. When he looked up, with the lighter torch casting a glare into the great darkness of the huge cavern, he caught sight of Irene disappearing in the hole out of which he had himself just come. Where are you going there? He cried. That's not the way out. That's where I couldn't get out. I know that, whispered Irene. But this is the way my thread goes, and I must follow it. What nonsense the child talks, said Curdie to himself. I must follow her though, and see that she comes to no harm. She will soon find she can't get out that way, and then she will come with me. So he crept over the slab once more into the hole with his torch in his hand. But when he looked about in it, he could see her nowhere, and now he discovered that although the hole was narrow, it was much longer than he had supposed, for in one direction the roof came down very low, and the hole went off in a narrow passage, of which he could not see the end. The princess must have crept in there. He got on his knees in one hand, holding the torch with the other, and crept after her. The hole twisted about in some parts so low that he could hardly get through, you know, the so high that he could not see the roof, but everywhere it was narrow, far too narrow for a goblin to get through, and so I presume they never thought that Cardi might. He was beginning to feel very uncomfortable as something should have befallen the princess, when he heard her voice almost close to his ear, whispering, Aren't you coming, Cardi? And when he turned the next corner, there she stood, waiting for him. I knew you couldn't go wrong in that narrow hole, but now you must keep by me, the here is a great wide place. She said, I can't understand it, said Cardi, half to himself, half to Irene. Never mind, she returned. Wait till we get out. Cardi utterly astonished that she had already got so far, and by a path he had known nothing of, thought it better to let her do as she pleased. At all offends, he said again to himself, I know nothing about the way, minor as I am, and she seems to think she does know something about it, though how she should pass is my comprehension. So she's just as likely to find her way as I am, and she insists on taking the lead, I must follow her. We can't be much worse off than we are anyhow. Reasoning thus, he followed her a few steps and came out in another great cavern, across which Irene walked in the straight line as confidently as if she knew every step of the way. Cardi went on after her, flashing his torch about and trying to see something of what lay around them. Suddenly he started back at pace, as the light fell upon something close by which Irene was passing. It was a platform of rock raised a few feet from the floor and covered with sheepskins, upon which lay two horrible figures asleep, at once recognized by Cardi as the king and the queen of the goblins. He lured his torch instantly, lest the light should awake them. As he did so, it flashed upon his pickaxe lying by the side of the queen, whose hand lay close by the handle of it. Stop one moment. He whispered, Hold my torch and don't let the light on their faces. Irene shuddered when she saw the frightful creatures whom she had passed without observing them. But she did as he requested and turning her back, held the torch low in front of her. Cardi drew his pickaxe carefully away and as he did, so spied one of her feet, projecting from under the skins. The great clumsy granite shoe, exposed thus to his hand, was a temptation not to be resisted. He laid hold of it and with cautious efforts drew it off. The moment he succeeded, he saw to his astonishment that what he had sung in ignorance to annoy the queen was actually true. She had six horrible toes. Overjoyed at his success and seeing by the huge bump in the sheepskins where the other foot was, he proceeded to lift them gently. For if he could only succeed in carrying away the other shoe as well, he would be no more afraid of the coblins than of so many flies. But as he pulled at the second shoe, the queen gave a growl and sat up in bed. The same instant the king awoke also and sat up beside her. Hold my reen! cried Cardi, for though he was not now in the least afraid for himself, he was for the princess. Irene looked once round, saw the fearful creatures awake, and like the wise princess she was, dashed the torch on the ground and extinguished it. Crying out, he dotted to her side, forgetting neither the queen's shoe nor his pickaxe and cothold of her hand, as she sped fearlessly where her thread had guided her. They heard the queen give a great bellow, but they had a good start, for it would be some time before they could get torches lighted to pursue them. Just as they thought they saw a gleam behind them, the thread brought them to a very narrow opening, through which Irene crept easily and Cardi with difficulty. Now, said Cardi, I think we shall be safe. Of course we shall. returned Irene. Why do you think so? asked Cardi, because my grandmother is taking care of us. That's all nonsense, said Cardi. I don't know what you mean. Then if you don't know what I mean, what right have you to call it nonsense? asked the princess a little offended. I beg your pardon, Irene. said Cardi. I did not mean to vex you. Of course not. returned the princess. But why do you think we shall be safe? Because the king and queen are far too stout to get through that hole. There may be ways round, said the princess. To be sure there might, we are not out of it yet. acknowledged Cardi. But what do you mean by the king and queen? asked the princess. I should never call such creatures as those a king and a queen. Their own people do though. answered Cardi. The princess asked more questions and Cardi as they walked leisurely along gave her a full account not only of the character and habits of the goblins so far as he knew them but of his own adventures with them beginning from the very night after that in which he had met her and looted upon the mountain when he had finished he begged Irene to tell him how it was that she had come to his rescue so Irene too had to tell a long story which she didn't rather a roundabout manner interrupted by many questions concerning things she had not explained but her tale as he did not believe more than half of it left everything as unaccountable to him as before and he was nearly as much perplexed as to what he must think of the princess he could not believe that she was deliberately telling stories and the only conclusion he could come to was that Luti had been playing the child tricks inventing no end of life to frighten her for her own purposes. But how ever did Luti come to let you go into the mountains alone? he asked. Luti knows nothing about it. I left her fast asleep at least I think so. I hope my grandmother won't let her get into trouble for it wasn't her fault at all as my grandmother very well knows. But how did you find your way to me? Persisted, Curdie. I told you already. Answered Irene. By keeping my finger upon my grandmother's thread as I am doing now. You don't mean you've got the thread there? Of course I do. I have told you ten times already I have hardly except when I was removing the stones taken my finger off it there. She added guiding Curdie's hand to the thread. You feel it yourself don't you? I feel nothing at all. Replied Curdie. Curdie was too polite to say he did not believe there was any thread there at all. What he did say was... Well I can make nothing of it. I can though and you must be glad of that for it will do for both of us. We're not out yet. Said Curdie. We soon shall be. Returned Irene confidently and now the thread went downwards and led Irene's hand to a hole in the floor of the cavern and skim a sound of running water which they had been hearing for some time. It goes into the ground now Curdie. She said stopping. He had been listening to another sound which his practice year had caught long ago and which had also been growing louder. It was the noise the goblin miners made at their work and they seem to be at no great distance now. Irene heard it the moment she stopped. What is that noise? She asked. Do you know Curdie? Yes it is the goblin sticking and burrowing. He answered. And you don't know what they do it for? No I haven't the least idea. Would you like to see them? He asked wishing to have another try after their secret. If my thread took me there I shouldn't much mind but I don't want to see them and I can't leave my thread. It leads me down into the hole and we had better go at once. Very well shall I go in first? Said Curdie. No better not you can't feel the thread. She answered stepping down through a narrow break in the floor of the cavern. Oh! She cried. I am in the water. It is running strong but it is not deep and there is just room to walk. Make haste Cardi. He tried but the hole was too small for him to get in. Go on a little bit. He said shouldering his pickaxe. In a few moments he had cleared a larger opening and followed her. They went on down and down with the running water. Curdie getting more and more afraid it was leading them to some terrible gulf in the heart of the mountain. In one or two places he had to break away the rock to make room before even Irene could get through. At least without hurting herself. But at length they spied a glimmer of light and in a minute more they were almost blinded by the full sunlight into which they emerged. It was some little time before the princess could see well enough to discover that they stood in her own garden closed by the seat on which she and her king papa had sat that afternoon. They had come out by the channel of the little stream. She danced and clapped her hands with delight. Now, Cardi! She cried. Won't you believe what I told you about my grandmother and her thread? For she had felt all the time that Cardi was not believing what she told him. There! Don't you see it shining on before us? She added. I don't see anything. Persisted, Cardi. Then you must believe without seeing. Said the princess. For you can't deny it has brought us out of the mountain. I can't deny we are out of the mountain, and I should be very ungrateful indeed to deny that you had brought me out of it. I couldn't have done it but for the thread. Persisted, Irene. That's the part I don't understand. Well, come along. Eluti will get you something to eat. I am sure you must want it very much. Indeed I do, but my father and mother will be so anxious about me. I must make haste, first up the mountain to tell my mother, and then down into the mine again to let my father know. Very well, Cardi. But you can't get out without coming this way, and I will take you through the house, for that is nearest. They met no one, by the way, for, indeed, as before, the people were here and there and everywhere searching for the princess. When they got in, Irene found that the thread, as she had half expected, went up the old staircase and a new thought struck her. She turned to Cardi and said, my grandmother wants me. Do come up with me and see her, then you will know that I've been telling the truth. Do come! De-please me, Cardi. I can't bear you should think what I say is not true. I never doubted you believed what you said. Returned, Cardi. I only thought you had some fancy in your head that was not correct. But do come, dear Cardi. The little miner could not withstand this appeal, and though he felt shy in what seemed to him a huge grand house, he yielded and followed her up the stair. End of Chapter 21 Chapter 22 of The Princess and the Goblin This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Princess and the Goblin by George MacDonald Chapter 22 The All Lady and Cardi Up the stair then they went, and the next and the next, and through the long rows of empty rooms and up the little tub of stair, Irene growing happier and happier as she ascended. There was no answer when she knocked at length at the door of the work room, nor could she hear any sound of the spinning wheel, and once more her heart sank within her, but only for one moment, as she turned and knocked at the other door. Come in! Answered the sweet voice of a grandmother, and Irene opened the door and entered, followed by Cardi. You darling! Cried the lady who was seated by a fire of red roses mingled with white. I've been waiting for you, and indeed getting a little anxious about you, and beginning to think whether I had not better go and fetch you myself. As she spoke she took the little princess in her arms and placed her upon her lap. She was dressed in white now and looking if possible more lovely than ever. I've brought Cardi, grandmother. He wouldn't believe what I told him, and so I've brought him. Yes, I see him. He is a good boy, Cardi, and a brave boy. Aren't you glad you've got him out? Yes, grandmother. But it wasn't very good of him not to believe me when I was telling him the truth. People must believe what they can, and those who believe more must not be hard upon those who believe less. I doubt if you would have believed it all yourself if you hadn't seen some of it. Oh, yes, grandmother, I dare say. I'm sure you're right. But he'll believe now. I don't know that. Reply her grandmother. Won't you, Cardi? Said Irene, looking round at him as she asked the question. He was standing in the middle of the floor staring and looking strangely bewildered. This, she thought, came off as astonishment at the beauty of the lady. Make a bow to my grandmother, Cardi. She said. I don't see any grandmother. Answered Cardi rather gruffly. Don't see my grandmother. When I'm sitting in her lap. exclaimed the princess. No, I don't. Retirated, Cardi, in an offended tone. Don't you see the lovely fire of roses, white ones amongst them this time? Asked Irene almost as bewildered as he. No, I don't. Answered Cardi almost sulkily. Nor the blue bed. Nor the rose-colored counterpaint. Nor the beautiful light, like the moon hanging from the roof. You're making game of me, your royal highness. And after what we have come through together this day, I don't think it is kind of you. Said Cardi feeling very much hurt. Then what do you see? Asked Irene, who perceived at once that for her not to believe him was at least as bad as for him not to believe her. I see a big, bare, garret room, like the one in mother's cottage. Only big enough to take the cottage itself in and leave a good margin all around. Answered Cardi. And what more do you see? I see a tub, and a heap of musty straw, and a withered apple, an array of sunlight coming through a hole in the middle of the roof of them shining on your head, and making all the place look a curious dusky brown. I think you'd better drop it, princess, and go down to the nursery like a good girl. But don't you hear my grandmother talking to me? Asked Irene almost crying. No, I hear the cooing of a lot of pigeons. If you won't come down, I will go without you. I think that would be better anyhow, for I'm sure nobody who met us would believe a word we said to them. They would think we had made it all up. I don't expect anybody but my own father and mother to believe me. They know I wouldn't tell a story. And yet you won't believe me, Cardi. Expostolated the princess, now fairly crying with vexation and sorrow at the gulf between her and Cardi. No, I can't, and I can't help it, said Cardi, turning to leave the room. Shall I do, grandmother? Stopped the princess, turning her face round upon the lady's possum, shaking with suppressed sobs. You must give him time, said her grandmother. And you must be content not to be believed for a while. It is very hard to bear, but I have had to bear it, and shall have to bear it many a time yet. I will take care of what Cardi thinks of you in the end. You must let him go now. You're not coming, are you? Asked Cardi. No, Cardi. My grandmother says I must let you go. Turn to the right when you get to the bottom of all the stairs, and that will take you to the hall where the great door is. Oh, I don't doubt I can't find my way, without you, princess, or your old granny's thread, either. Said Cardi quite rudely. Oh, Cardi! Cardi! I wish I had gone home at once. I'm very much obliged to you, Irene, for getting me out of that hall. But I wish you hadn't made a fool of me afterwards. He said this as he opened the door which he left open, and without another word went down the stair. Irene listened with dismay to his departing footsteps. Then turning again to the lady. What does it all mean, grandmother? She sobbed and burst into fresh tears. It means, my love, that I did not mean to show myself. Cardi is not yet able to believe some things. Seeing is not believing. It is only seeing. You remember I told you that if Ludie were to see me, she would rub her eyes, forget the half she saw, and call the other half nonsense. Yes, but I should have thought, Cardi. You are right. Cardi is much farther on than Ludie, and you will see what will come of it. But in the meantime, you must be content, I say, to be misunderstood for a while. We are all very anxious to be understood, and it is very hard not to be. But there is one thing much more necessary. What is that, grandmother? To understand other people. Yes, grandmother, I must be fair. For if I'm not fair to other people, I'm not worth being understood myself. I see. So, as Cardi can't help it, I will not be vexed with him. But just wait. There's my own dear child. Said her grandmother and pressed her close to her bosson. Why weren't you in your work room when we came up, grandmother? Asked Irene after a few moments' silence. If I had been there, Cardi would have seen me well enough. But why should I be there, rather than in this beautiful room? I thought you would be spinning. I've nobody to spin for just at present. I never spin without knowing for whom I am spinning. That reminds me. There is one thing that puzzles me. Said the princess. How are you to get the thread out of the mountain again? Surely you won't have to make another for me. That would be such a trouble. The lady set her down and rose and bent to the fire. Putting in her hand, she drew it out again and held up the shining ball between her finger and thumb. I've got it now, you see. She said, coming back to the princess. All ready for you, when you want it. Going to her cabinet, she laid it in the same drawer as before. And here is your ring. She added, taking it from the little finger of her left hand and putting it on the forefinger of Irene's right hand. Oh, thank you, grandmother. I feel so safe now. You are very tired, my child. The lady went on. Your hands are hurt with the stones. And I have counted nine bruises on you. Just look what you are like. And she held up to her a little mirror which she had brought from the cabinet. The princess burst into a merry laugh at the sight. She was so draggled with the stream and dirty with the creeping through narrow places that if she had seen the reflection without knowing it was a reflection, she would have taken herself for some gypsy child, whose face was washed and her hair combed about once in a month. The lady laughed too, and lifting her again upon her knee, took off her cloak and night gown. Then she carried her to the side of the room. Irene wondered what she was going to do with her, but asked no questions. Only starting a little when she found that she was going to lay her in the large, silver bath, for as she looked into it, again she saw no bottom but the star shining miles away, as it seemed, in a great blue gulf. Her hands closed involuntarily on the beautiful arms that held her, and that was all. The lady pressed her once more to her bosom, saying, Do not be afraid, my child. No, Grandmother. Answered the princess with a little gasp, and the next instant she sank in the clear, cool water. When she opened her eyes, she saw nothing but a strange, lovely blue over and beneath and all about her. The lady and the beautiful room had vanished from her sight, and she seemed utterly alone. But instead of being afraid, she felt more than happy, perfectly blissful, and from somewhere came the voice of the lady, singing a strange, sweet song, of which she could distinguish every word but of the sense she had only a feeling, no understanding. Nor could she remember a single line after it was gone. It vanished, like the poetry in a dream, as fast as it came. In after years, however, she would sometimes fancy that snatches of melody suddenly rising in her brain must be little phrases and fragments of the air of that song, and the very fancy would make her happier and abler to do her duty. How long she laid in the water she did not know. It seemed a long time, not from veriness but from pleasure, but alas she felt the beautiful handsily hold of her, and through the gurgling water she was lifted out into the lovely room. The lady carried her to the fire, and sat down with her in her lap, and dried her tenderly with the softest shovel. It was so different from Ludi's drying. When the lady had done, she stooped to the fire and drew from it her night-cow, as white as snow. How delicious! exclaimed the princess. It smells of all the roses in the world, I think. When she stood up on the floor she felt as if she had been made over again. Every bruise and all veriness were gone, and her hands were soft and whole as ever. Now I am going to put you to bed for a good sleep, said her grandmother. But what will Luti be thinking? And what am I to say to her when she asks me where I have been? Don't trouble yourself about it. You will find it all come right, said her grandmother, and laid her into the blue bed, under the rosy counterpane. There is just one thing more, said Irene. I am a little anxious about Cardi. As I brought him into the house, I ought to have seen him safe on his way home. I took care of all that. Answer the lady. I told you to let him go, and therefore I was bound to look after him. Nobody saw him, and he is now eating a good dinner in his mother's cottage, far up in the mountain. Then I will go to sleep. Said Irene, and in a few minutes she was fast asleep.