 CHAPTER I Why The Princess Has A Story About Her There was once a little princess whose father was king over a great country, full of mountains and valleys. His palace was built upon one of the mountains and was very grand and beautiful. The princess, whose name was Irene, was born there, but she was sent soon after her birth, because her mother was not very strong, to be brought up by country people in a large house, half castle, half farmhouse, on the side of another mountain, about halfway between its base and its peak. The princess was a sweet little creature, and at the time my story begins was about eight years old, I think, but she got older very fast. Her face was fair and pretty, with eyes like two bits of night sky, each with a star dissolved in the blue. Those eyes you would have thought must have known they came from there, so often were they turned up in that direction. The ceiling of her nursery was blue, with stars in it, as like the sky as they could make it, but I doubt if she ever saw the real sky, with the stars in it, for a reason which I had better mention at once. These mountains were full of hollow places underneath, huge caverns and winding ways, some with water running through them, and some shining with all colours of the rainbow when a light was taken in. They would not have been much known about then had there not been mines there, great deep pits with long galleries and passages running off from them, which had been dug to get at the ore of which the mountains were full. In the course of digging the miners came upon many of these natural caverns, a few of them had far off openings out on the side of a mountain or into a ravine. Now in these subterranean caverns lived a strange race of beings, called by some gnomes, by some cobbles, by some goblins. There was a legend, current in the country, that at one time they lived above ground and were very like other people, but for some reason or other, concerning which there were different legend-retheries, the king had laid what they thought too severe taxes upon them, or had required observances of them they did not like, or had begun to treat them with more severity in some way or other, and imposed stricter laws, and the consequence was that they had all disappeared from the face of the country. According to the legend, however, instead of going to some other country, they had all taken refuge in the subterranean caverns, whence they never came out, but at night, and then seldom showed themselves in any numbers, and never to many people at once. It was only in the least frequented and most difficult parts of the mountains that they were set to gather, even at night, in the open air. Those who had caught sight of any of them said that they had greatly altered in the course of generations, and no wonder seeing they lived away from the sun in cold and wet and dark places. They were now not ordinarily ugly, but either absolutely hideous or ludicrously grotesque, both in face and form. There was no invention, they said, of the most lawless imagination expressed by pen or pencil that could surpass the extravagance of their appearance. But I suspect those who said so had mistaken some of their animal companions for the goblins themselves, of which more by and by. The goblins themselves were not so far removed from the human as such a description would imply. And as they grew misshapen in body, they had grown in knowledge and cleverness, and now were able to do things no mortal could see the possibility of. But as they grew in cunning, they grew in mischief, and their great delight was in every way they could think of to annoy the people who lived in the open air story above them. They had enough of affection left for each other to preserve them from being absolutely cruel for cruelty's sake to those that came in their way. But still they so heartily cherished the ancestral grudge against those who occupied their former possessions, and especially against the descendants of the king who had caused their expulsion, that they sought every opportunity of tormenting them in ways that were as odd as their inventors. And although dwarfed and misshapen, they had strength equal to their cunning. In the process of time they had got a king and a government of their own, whose chief business, beyond their own simple affairs, was to devise trouble for their neighbours. It will now be pretty evident why the little princess had never seen the sky at night. They were much too afraid of the goblins to let her out of the house, even in company with ever so many attendants. And they had good reason, as we shall see by and by. I have said the princess Irene was about eight years old when my story begins, and this is how it begins. One very wet day, when the mountain was covered with mist which was constantly gathering itself together into raindrops and pouring down on the roofs of the great old house, whence it fell in a fringe of water from the eaves all round about it, the princess could not, of course, go out. She got very tired, so tired that even her toys could no longer amuse her. You would wonder at that if I had time to describe to you one half of the toys she had. But then you wouldn't have the toys themselves, and that makes all the difference. You can't get tired of a thing before you have it. It was a picture, though, worth seeing, the princess, sitting in the nursery with the sky ceiling over her head at a great table covered with her toys. If an artist would like to draw this, I should advise him not to meddle with the toys. I'm afraid of attempting to describe them, and I think he had better not try to draw them. He had better not. He can do a thousand things I can't, but I don't think he could draw those toys. No man could better make the princess herself than he could, though, sitting with her back bowed into the back of the chair, her head hanging down, and her hands in her lap, very miserable, as she would say herself, not even knowing what she would like, except it were to go out and get thoroughly wet and catch a particularly nice cold, and have to go to bed and take drool. The next moment, after you see her sitting there, her nurse goes out of the room. Even that is a change, and the princess wakes up a little and looks about her. Then she tumbles off her chair and runs out of the door, not the same door the nurse went out of, but one which opened at the foot of a curious old stair of worm-eaten oak, which looked as if never anyone had set foot upon it. She had once before been up six steps, and that was sufficient reason in such a day for trying to find out what was at the top of it. Up and up she ran, such a long way it seemed to her, until she came to the top of the third flight. There she found the landing was the end of a long passage. Into this she ran. It was full of doors on either side. There were so many that she did not care to open any, but ran on to the end, where she turned into another passage, also full of doors. When she had turned twice more, and still saw doors and only doors about her, she began to get frightened. It was so silent. And all those doors must hide rooms with nobody in them. That was dreadful. Also the rain made a great trampling noise on the roof. She turned and started at full speed, her little footsteps echoing through the sound of the rain, back for the stairs and her safe nursery. So she thought, but she had lost herself long ago. It doesn't follow that she was lost, because she lost herself, though. She ran for some distance, turned several times, and then began to be afraid. Very soon she was sure that she had lost the way back. Rooms everywhere and no stair. Her little heart beat as fast as her little feet ran, and a lump of tears were growing in her throat. But she was too eager and perhaps too frightened to cry for some time. At last her hope failed her, nothing but passages and doors everywhere. She threw herself on the floor and burst into a wailing cry broken by sobs. She did not cry long, however, for she was as brave as could be expected of a princess of her age. After a good cry she got up and brushed the dust from her frock. Oh, what old dust it was! Then she wiped her eyes with her hands, for princesses don't always have their handkerchiefs in their pockets any more than some other little girls I know of. Like a true princess she resolved on going wisely to work to find her way back. She would walk through the passages and look in every direction for the stair. This she did, but without success. She went over the same ground again and again without knowing it, for the passages and doors were all alike. At last, in a corner through a half-open door, she did see a stair, but alas it went the wrong way. Instead of going down it went up. Frightened as she was, however, she could not help wishing to see where, yet further, the stair could lead. It was very narrow and so steep she went on like a four-legged creature on her hands and feet. THE PRINCESS AND THE GOBLIN by George MacDonald CHAPTER III THE PRINCESS AND WE SHALL SEE WHO When she came to the top she found herself in a little square place, with three doors, two opposite each other and one opposite the top of the stair. She stood for a moment without an idea in her little head what to do next, but as she stood she began to hear a curious humming-sound. Could it be the rain? No, it was much more gentle and even monotonous than the sound of the rain, which now she scarcely heard. The low, sweet humming-sound went on, sometimes stopping for a little while and then beginning again. It was more like the hum of a very happy bee that had found a rich well of honey in some globular fire than anything else I can think of at the moment. Where could it come from? She laid her ear first to one of the doors to hearken if it was there, then to another. When she laid her ear against the third door, there could be no doubt where it came from. It must be from something in that room. What could it be? She was rather afraid, but her curiosity was stronger than her fear, and she opened the door very gently and peeped in. What do you think she saw? A very old lady who sat spinning. Perhaps you will wonder how the princess could tell that the old lady was an old lady, when I inform you that not only was she beautiful, but her skin was smooth and white. I will tell you more. Her hair was combed back from her forehead and face, and hung loose, far down, and all over her back. That's not much like an old lady, is it? Ah! But it was white almost as snow. And although her face was so smooth, her eyes looked so wise that you could not have helped seeing she must be old. The princess, though she could not have told you why, did think her very old indeed, quite fifty, she said to herself, but she was rather older than that, as you shall hear. While the princess stared bewildered with her head just inside the door, the old lady lifted hers and said in a sweet but old and rather shaky voice, which mingled very pleasantly with the continued hum of her wheel. Come in, my dear, come in. I am glad to see you. That the princess was a real princess you might see now quite plainly, for she didn't hang on to the handle of the door and stare without moving, as I have known some do, ought to have been princesses, but were only rather vulgar little girls. She did as she was told, stepped inside the door at once, and shut it gently behind her. Come to me, my dear," said the old lady, and again the princess did as she was told. She approached the old lady, and rather slowly I confess, but did not stop until she stood by her side, and looked up in her face with her blue eyes and two melted stars in them. Why, what have you been doing with your eyes, child? asked the old lady. Crying, answered the princess. Why, child? Because I couldn't find my way down again. But you could find your way up. Not at first, not for a long time. But your face is streaked like the back of a zebra. Haven't you a handkerchief to wipe your eyes with? No. Then why didn't you come to me to wipe them for you? Please, I didn't know you were here. I will next time. There's a good child," said the old lady. Then she stopped her wheel and rose, and going out of the room returned with a little silver basin and a soft white towel, with which she washed and wiped the bright little face, and the princess thought her hands were so smooth and nice. When she carried away the basin and towel, the little princess wondered to see how straight and tall she was. For although she was so old, she didn't stoop a bit. She was dressed in black velvet, with thick white heavy-looking lace about it, and on the black dress her hair shone like silver. There was hardly any more furniture in the room, than there might have been in that of the poorest old woman who made her bread by spinning. There was no carpet on the floor, no table anywhere, nothing but the spinning wheel and the chair beside it. When she came back, she sat down, and without a word began her spinning once more, while Irene, who had never seen a spinning wheel, stood by her side and looked on. When the old lady had got her thread fairly going again, she said to the princess, but without looking at her, Do you know my name, child? No, I don't know it, answered the princess. My name is Irene. That's my name, cried the princess. I know that. I let you have mine. I haven't got your name. You've got mine. How can that be? asked the princess, bewildered. I've always had my name. But your papa, the king, asked me if I had any objection to your having it, and of course I hadn't. I let you have it with pleasure. It was very kind of you to give me your name, and such a pretty one," said the princess. Oh, not so very kind, said the old lady. A name is one of those things one can give away and keep all the same. I have a good many such things. Wouldn't you like to know who I am, child? Yes, that I should very much. I'm your great-great-grandmother," said the lady. What's that? asked the princess. I'm your father's mother's father's mother. Oh, dear, I can't understand that, said the princess. I dare say not. I didn't expect you would. But that's no reason why I shouldn't say it. Oh, no," answered the princess. I will explain it all to you when you are older. The lady went on, but you will be able to understand this much now. I came here to take care of you. Is it long since you came? Was it yesterday, or was it today, because it was so wet that I couldn't get out? I've been here ever since you came yourself. What a long time," said the princess. I don't remember it at all. No, I suppose not. But I never saw you before. No, but you shall see me again. Do you live in this room always? I don't sleep in it. I sleep on the opposite side of the landing. I sit here most of the day. I shouldn't like it. My nursery is much prettier. You must be a queen, too, if you're my great-big grandmother. Yes, I am a queen. Where's your crown then? In my bedroom. I shall like to see it. You shall someday, not today. I wonder why nursery never told me. Nursy doesn't know. She never saw me. But somebody knows that you're in the house. No, nobody. How do you get your dinner then? I keep poultry of a sort. Where do you keep them? I will show you. And who makes the chicken broth for you? I never kill any of my chickens. Then I can't understand. What did you have for breakfast this morning? asked the lady. Oh, I had bread and milk and an egg. I daresay you eat the eggs. Yes, that's it. I eat the eggs. Is that what makes your hair so white? No, my dear. It's old age. I am very old. I thought so. Are you fifty? Yes. More than that. Are you a hundred? Yes. More than that. I'm too old for you to guess. Come and see my chickens. Again she stopped her spinning. She rose, took the princess by the hand, led her out of the room, and opened the door opposite the stair. The princess expected to see a lot of hens and chickens. But instead of that she saw the blue sky first, and then the roofs of the house with a multitude of the loveliest pigeons, mostly white but of all colours, walking about, making bows to each other, and talking a language she could not understand. She clapped her hands with delight, and up rose such a flapping of wings that she in her turn was startled. Oh, frighten my poultry! said the old lady, smiling. And they frighten me! said the princess, smiling too. But what very nice poultry! Are the eggs nice? Yes, very nice. What a small egg-spoon you must have! Wouldn't it be better to keep hens and get bigger eggs? How should I feed them, though? I see, said the princess. The pigeons feed themselves. They've got wings. Just so, if they couldn't fly, I couldn't eat their eggs. But how do you get at the eggs? Where are their nests? The lady took hold of a little loop of string in the wall at the side of the door, and lifting a shutter showed a great many pigeon-holes with nests, some with young ones, and some with eggs in them. The birds came in at the other side, and she took out the eggs on this side. She closed it again quickly, lest the young ones should be frightened. Oh, what a nice way! cried the princess. Will you give me an egg to eat? I'm rather hungry. I will some day. But now you must go back, or Nersi will be miserable about you. I dare say she's looking for you everywhere. Except here," answered the princess, oh, how surprised she will be when I tell her about my great-big-grand-grandmother. Yes, that she will, said the old lady with a curious smile. Mind you tell her all about it exactly? That I will. Please, will you take me back to her? I can't go all the way, but I will take you to the top of the stair, and then you must run down quite fast into your own room. The little princess put her hand in the old ladies, who, looking this way and that, brought her to the top of the first stair, and thence to the bottom of the second, and did not leave her till she saw her half-way down the third. When she heard the cry of her nurse's pleasure at finding her, she turned and walked up the stairs again, very fast indeed for such a very great-grandmother, and sat down to her spinning with another strange smile on her sweet old face. About this spinning of hers I will tell you more another time. Guess what she was spinning. End of Chapter 3, Chapter 4 of The Princess and the Goblin. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Reading by Andy Minter, The Princess and the Goblin, by George MacDonald. Chapter 4. What the nurse thought of it. Why, where have you been, princess? asked the nurse, taking her in her arms. It's very unkind of you to hide away so long. I began to be afraid. Here she checked herself. What were you afraid of, nursey? asked the princess. Never mind, she answered, perhaps I will tell you another day. Now, tell me where you've been. I've been up a long way to see my very great, huge, old grandmother, said the princess. What do you mean by that? asked the nurse, who thought she was making fun. I mean that I've been a long way up and up to see my great grandmother. Oh, nurse, you don't know what a beautiful mother of grandmothers I've got upstairs. She's such an old lady with such lovely white hair, as white as my silver cup. Now when I think of it, I think her hair must be silver. What nonsense you're choking, princess! I'm not talking nonsense, returned Irene, mother of Endid. I will tell you all about her. She's much taller than you and much prettier. Ah, d'essay! remarked the nurse. And she lives upon pigeon's eggs, most likely, said the nurse. And she sits in an empty room, spin spinning all day long. Not a doubt of it, said the nurse. And she keeps her crown in her bedroom. Of course! Quite the trouble-plies to keep her crown in. She wears it in bed, I'll be bound. She didn't say that, and I don't think she does, that wouldn't be comfortable, would it? I don't think my papa wears his crown for a nightcap, does he, nursey? Ah, never asked him. I d'essay he does. And she's been there ever since I came here ever so many years. Maybe he could have told you that, said the nurse, who did not believe a word Irene was saying. Why didn't you tell me then? There is no necessity. You could make it all up for yourself. You don't believe me then, exclaimed the princess, astonished and angry, as she well might be. Did you expect me to believe you, princess? asked the nurse, coldly. Ah, no, princesses are in the habit of telling make-believes, but you're the first I ever heard of who expected to have them believed, she added, seeing that the child was strangely an earnest. The princess burst into tears. Well, I must say, remarked the nurse, now thoroughly vexed with her for crying. It is not at all becoming in the princess to tell stories and expect to be believed just because she's a princess. But it's quite true, I tell you. You d'ent it then, child? No, I didn't dream it. I went upstairs and I lost myself, and if I hadn't found a beautiful lady, I should never have found myself. Oh, I daresay. Well, you just come up with me and see if I'm not telling the truth. And they don't have other work to do. It's your dinner time, and I won't have any more such nonsense. The princess wiped her eyes, and her face grew so hot that they were soon quite dry. She sat down to her dinner, but ate next to nothing. Not to be believed does not at all agree with princesses, for a real princess cannot tell a lie. So, all the afternoon, she did not speak a word. Only when the nurse spoke to her, she answered her, for a real princess is never rude, even when she does well to be offended. Of course, the nurse was not comfortable in her mind. Not that she suspected the least truth in Irene's story, but she loved her dearly, and was vexed with herself for having been crossed to her. She thought her crossness was the cause of the princess's unhappiness, and had no idea that she was really and deeply hurt at not being believed. But as it became more and more plain during the evening in her every motion and look that, although she tried to amuse herself with her toys, her heart was too vexed and troubled to enjoy them, her nurse's discomfort grew and grew. When bedtime came she undressed and laid her down, but the child, instead of holding up her little mouth to be kissed, turned away from her and lay still. Then nurse's heart gave way altogether, and she began to cry. At the sound of her first sob, the princess turned again, and held her face to kiss her as usual, but the nurse had her handkerchief to her eyes and did not see the movement. "'Nurse,' said the princess, "'why won't you believe me?' "'Because I can't believe you,' said the nurse, getting angry again. "'Ah, then you can't help it,' said Irene, and I will not be vexed with you any more. I will give you a kiss and go to sleep.' "'Oh, you little angel,' cried the nurse, and caught her out of bed and walked about the room with her in her arms, kissing and hugging her. "'You will let me take you to see my dear old great-big grandmother, won't you?' said the princess, as she laid her down again. "'And you won't say I'm ugly any more, will you, princess?' "'Nurse, I never said you were ugly. What can you mean?' "'Ah, if you didn't say it, you meant it. Indeed, I never did. You said I wasn't so pretty as that. As my beautiful grandmother, yes, I did say that, and I say it again, for it's quite true.' "'Then I do think you're unkind,' said the nurse, and put her handkerchief to her eyes again. "'Nursey, dear, everybody can't be as beautiful as every other body you know. You're very nice-looking. But if you had been as beautiful as my grandmother—' "'Bother your grandmother,' said the nurse, "'nurse, that's very rude. You're not fit to be spoken to till you can behave better.' The princess turned away once more, and again the nurse was ashamed of herself. "'Ah, I'm sure I beg your pardon, princess,' she said, though still in an offended tone. But the princess let the tone pass, and he did only the words. "'You won't say it again, I'm sure,' she answered, once more turning towards her nurse. "'I was only going to say that if you had been twice as nice looking as you are, some king or other would have married you, and then what would have become of me?' "'You are an angel,' repeated the nurse, again embracing her. "'Now,' insisted Irene, "'you will come and see my grandmother, won't you?' "'I will go anywhere you like, my cherub,' she answered. And in two minutes the weary little princess was fast asleep.' CHAPTER V When she woke the next morning, the first thing she heard was the rain still falling. Indeed this day was so like the last that it would be difficult to tell where was the use of it. The first thing she thought of, however, was not the rain, but the lady in the tower, and the first question that occupied her thoughts was whether she should not ask the nurse to fulfil her promise this very morning, and go with her to find her grandmother as soon as she had had her breakfast. But she came to the conclusion that perhaps the lady would not be pleased if she took anyone to see her without first asking leave, especially as it was pretty evident, seeing she lived on pigeons' eggs and cooked them herself, that she did not want the household to know she was there. So the princess resolved to take the first opportunity of running up alone and asking whether she might bring her nurse. She believed the fact that she could not otherwise convince her she was telling the truth would have much weight with her grandmother. The princess and her nurse were the best of friends all dressing time, and the princess, in consequence, ate an enormous little breakfast. I wondered, Lutie, that was her pet name for her nurse, what pigeon's eggs taste like, she said, as she was eating her egg, not quite a common one, for they always picked out the pinkie ones for her. We'll get you a pigeon's egg, and you shall judge for yourself, said the nurse. Oh, no, no, no, returned Irene, suddenly reflecting that they might disturb the old lady in getting it, and that even if they did not, she would have one less in consequence. Ah, what a strange creature you are, said the nurse, first to want a thing and then to refuse it. But she did not say it crossly, and the princess never minded any remarks that were not unfriendly. Well, you see, Lutie, there are reasons, she returned, and said no more, for she did not want to bring up the subject of their former strife, lest her nurse should offer to go before she had had her grandmother's permission to bring her. Of course she could refuse to take her, but then she would believe her less than ever. Now the nurse, as she said afterwards, could not be every moment in the room, and as never before yesterday had the princess given her the smallest reason for anxiety, it had not yet come into her head to watch her more closely. So she soon gave her a chance, and the very first that offered, Irene was off and up the stairs again. This day's adventure, however, did not turn out like yesterday's, although it began like it, and indeed today is very seldom like yesterday, if people would note the difference, even when it rains. The princess ran through passage after passage and could not find the stair of the tower. My own suspicion is that she had not gone up high enough and was searching on the second instead of the third floor. When she turned to go back, she failed equally in her search after the stair. She was lost once more. Something made it even worse to bear this time, and it was no wonder that she cried again. Suddenly it occurred to her that it was after having cried before that she had found her grandmother's stair. She got up at once, wiped her eyes, and started upon a fresh quest. This time, although she did not find what she hoped, she found what was next best. She did not come on the stair that went up, but she came upon one that went down. It was evidently not the stair that she had come up, yet it was a good deal better than none. So down she went, and was singing merrily before she reached the bottom. There, to her surprise, she found herself in the kitchen. Although she was not allowed to go there alone, her nurse had often taken her, and she was a great favorite with the servants. So there was a general rush at her the moment she appeared, for everyone wanted to have her, and the report of where she was soon reached the nurse's ears. She came at once to fetch her, but she never suspected how she had got there, and the princess kept her own counsel. Her failure to find the old lady not only disappointed her, but made her very thoughtful. Once she came almost to the nurse's opinion that she had dreamt all about her, but that fancy never lasted very long. She wondered much whether she should ever see her again, and thought it very sad not to have been able to find her when she particularly wanted her. She resolved to say nothing more to her nurse on the subject, seeing it was so little in her power to prove her words. CHAPTER VI THE LITTLE MINOR The next day the great cloud still hung over the mountain, and the rain poured like water from a full sponge. The princess was very fond of being outdoors, and she nearly cried when she saw that the weather was no better. But the mist was not of such a dark, dingy gray, there was light in it, and as the hours went on it grew brighter and brighter until it was almost too brilliant to look at, and late in the afternoon the sun broke out so gloriously that Irene clapped her hands, saying, See, see, Lootie, the sun has had his face washed! Look how bright he is! Do get my hat, and let us go out for a walk! Oh, dear, oh, dear, how happy I am! Lootie was very glad to please the princess. She got her hat and cloak, and they set out together for a walk up the mountain, for the road was so hard and steep that the water could not rest upon it, and it was always dry enough for walking a few minutes after the rain ceased. The clouds were rolling away in broken pieces, like great over woolly sheep whose wool the sun had bleached till it was almost too white for the eyes to bear. Between them the sky shone with a deeper and purer blue because of the rain. The trees on the roadside were hung all over with drops, which sparkled in the sun like jewels. The only things that were no brighter for the rain were the brooks that ran down the mountain. They had changed from the clearness of crystal to a muddy brown, but what they lost in color they gained in sound, or at least in noise, for a brook when it is swollen is not so musical as before. But Irene was in raptures with the great brown streams tumbling down everywhere, and Lootie shared in her delight, for she too had been confined to the house for three days. At length she observed that the sun was getting low, and said it was time to be going back. She made the remark again and again, but every time the princess begged her to go on just a little farther and a little farther, reminding her that it was much easier to go downhill, and saying that when they did turn they would be home in a moment. So on and on they did go, now to look at a group of ferns over whose tops of stream was pouring in a watery arch, now to pick up a shining stone from a rock by the wayside, now to watch the flight of some bird. Suddenly the shadow of a great mountain peak came up from behind and shot in front of them. When the nurse saw it she started and shook, and catching hold of the princess's hand turned and began to run down the hill. What's all the haste, nursey? asked Irene, running alongside of her. We must not be out a moment longer. But we can't help being out a good many moments longer. It was too true. The nurse almost cried. They were much too far from home. It was against express orders to be out with the princess one moment after the sun was down, and they were nearly a mile up the mountain. If His Majesty, Irene's Papa, were to hear of it, Lutie would certainly be dismissed, and to leave the princess would break her heart. It was no wonder she ran. But Irene was not in the least frightened, not knowing anything to be frightened at. She kept on chattering as well as she could. But it was not easy. Lutie, Lutie, why do you run so fast? It shakes my teeth when I talk. And then don't talk, said Lutie. But the princess went on talking. She was always saying, Look, look, Lutie! But Lutie paid no more heed to anything she said, only ran on. Look, look, Lutie, don't you see that funny man peeping over the rock? Lutie only ran the faster. They had to pass the rock. And when they came nearer, the princess saw it was only a lump of the rock itself that she had taken for a man. Look, look, Lutie, there's such a curious creature at the foot of that old tree. Look at it, Lutie! It's making faces at us, I do think. Lutie gave a stifled cry and ran faster still, so fast that Irene's little legs could not keep up with her, and she fell with a crash. It was a hard, downhill road, and she had been running very fast, so it was no wonder when she began to cry. This put the nurse nearly beside herself, but all she could do was to run on, the moment she got the princess on her feet again. Who's that laughing at me? said the princess, trying to keep in her sobs, and running too fast for her grey's knees. Nobody chisalled, said the nurse, almost angrily. But that instant there came a burst of coarse tittering from somewhere near, and a hoarse, indistinct voice that seemed to say, lies, lies, lies. Oh! cried the nurse with a sigh that was almost a scream, and ran on faster than ever. Nersi! Lutie! I can't run any more! Do let us walk a bit. What am I to do? said the nurse. Here, I'll carry you. She caught her up, but found her much too heavy to run with, and had to set her down again. Then she looked wildly about her, gave a great cry, and said, Oh! We've taken the wrong turning somewhere, and I don't know where we are. We're lost! Lost! The terror she was in had quite bewildered her. It was true enough they had lost the way. They had been running down into a little valley, in which there was no house to be seen. Now Arini did not know what good reason there was for her nurse's terror, for the servants had all strict orders never to mention the goblins to her. It was very discomposing to see her nurse in such a fright. Therefore, however, she had time to grow thoroughly alarmed like her. She heard the sound of whistling, and that revived her. Presently they saw a boy coming up the road from the valley to meet them. He was the whistler, but before they met his whistling changed the singing. And this is something like what he sang. A rod-dod-bang! Go the hammers clang! Satan turned and bore, whizz and puff and roar. Thus we rived the rocks, forced the goblins' locks, Seed the shining oar, one, two, three, Bright as gold can be! Four, five, six, shovels, mattocks, picks, seven, eight, nine, Light your lamp at nine, ten, eleven, twelve, Loosely hold the hell, weird the merry-miner, boys, Make the goblins hold their noise! Now I wish you would hold your noise, said the nurse, For the very word goblin, at such a time and in such a place, Made her tremble. It would bring the goblins upon them to a certainty, She thought, to defy them in that way. But whether the boy heard her or not, He did not stop his singing. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. This is worth the sift in. Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen. There's the match and let in. Nineteen, twenty. Goblins in the plenty. Don't be quiet! cried the nurse in a whispered shriek. But the boy, who was now close at hand, still went on. Hush, gush, gurry! There you go in a hurry! Gobble, gobble, goblin! There you go! Goblin, hobble, hobble, hoblin! Gobble, gobble, goblin! Hop, bob, goblin! Ha! There, said the boy, as he stood opposite them. There, that'll do for them. They can't bear singing, and they can't stand that song. They can't sing themselves, for they have no more vice than a crow. And they don't like other people to sing. The boy was dressed in a miner's dress, with a curious cap on his head. He was a very nice-looking boy, with eyes as dark as the mines in which he worked, and as sparkling as the crystals in their rocks. He was about twelve years old. His face was almost too pale for beauty, which came of his being so little in the open air and the sunlight, for even vegetables grown in the darker white. But he looked happy, merry indeed. Perhaps at the thought of having routed the goblins, and his bearing, as he stood before them, had nothing clownish or rude about it. I saw them, he went on, as it came up, and I'm very glad I did. I knew they were after somebody, but I couldn't see who it was. They won't touch you as long as I'm with you. Why, who are you? asked the nurse, offended at the freedom with which he spoke to them. I'm Peter's son. Who's Peter? Peter the Mainer? I don't know him. I'm his son, though, and why should the goblins mind you, pray? Because I don't mind them, I'm used to them. What difference does that make? If you're not afraid of them, they're afraid of you. I'm not afraid of them, that's all. But it's all it's wanted, up here, that is. It's a different thing down there. They won't always mind that song even down there. And if anyone sings it, they stand grinning at him awfully. And if he gets frightened and misses a word, or says a wrong one, they, oh, don't they give it him? What do they do to him? asked Irene, with a trembling voice. Don't go frightening the princess, said the nurse. The princess, repeated the little Mainer, taking off his curious cap. Ah, beg your pardon, but you oughtn't to be out so late. Everybody knows that's against the law. Yes, indeed it is, said the nurse, beginning to cry again, and I shall have to suffer for it. What does that matter? said the boy. It must be your fault. It's the princess who will suffer for it. Oh, they didn't hear you call her the princess. If they did, they're sure to know her again. They're awful sharp. Looty, looty! cried the princess. Take me home. Don't go on like that, said the nurse to the boy, almost fiercely. How could I help it? I lost my way. You shouldn't have been out so late. You wouldn't have lost your way if you hadn't been frightened, said the boy. Go along, I'll soon set you right again. I carry you're a little heinous. My pertinence, murmured the nurse, but she did not say it out loud. For she thought, if she made him angry, he might take his revenge by telling someone belonging to the house, and then it would be sure to come to the king's ears. No, thank you, said Irene. I can walk very well, though I can't run as fast as Nersi. If you will give me one hand, Lucy will give me another, and then I shall get on famously. They soon had her between them, holding a hand of each. Now let's run, said the nurse. No, no, said the little miner. That's the worst thing you can do. If you hadn't run before, you would not have lost your way. And if you run now, they'll be after you in a moment. I don't want to run, said Irene. You don't think of me, said the nurse. Yes, I do, Lucy. The boy says they won't touch us if we don't run. Yes, but he's staying now at the house that I kept you out so late. I shall be turned away, and that would break my heart. Turned away, Lucy. Who would turn you away? You're papa-child. But I'll tell him it was all my fault, and you know it was, Lucy. And he won't mind that, I'm sure he won't. Then I'll cry and go down on my knees to him, and beg him not to take away my own dear, Lucy. The nurse was comforted at hearing this, and said no more. They went on, walking pretty fast, but taking care not to run a step. I want to talk to you, said Irene, to the little miner. But it's so awkward, and I don't know your name. My name's Curdie, little princess. What a funny name. Curdie, what more? Curdie Peterson, what's your name, please? Irene, what more? I don't know what more. What more is my name, Lucy? Princesses haven't got more than one name. They don't want it. Oh, then Curdie, you must call me just Irene, and no more. Now indeed, said the nurse, indignantly, he shall do now such thing. What shall he call me, then, Lucy? Your Royal Highness. My Royal Highness, what's that? No, no, Lucy. I won't be called names. I don't like them. You told me once yourself it's only rude children that call names, and I'm sure Curdie wouldn't be rude. Curdie, my name is Irene. Well, Irene, said Curdie, with a glance at the nurse, which showed he enjoyed teasing her. It's very kind of you to let me call you anything. I like your name very much. He expected the nurse to interfere again, but he soon saw that she was too frightened to speak. She was staring at something a few yards before them in the middle of the path, where it narrowed between rocks, so that only one could pass at a time. It's very much kind of you to go out of your way to take us home, said Irene. I'm not going out of my way yet, said Curdie. It's on the other side of those rocks the path turns off to my father's. You wouldn't think of leaving us till we're safe, how, I'm sure, gasped the nurse. Of course not, said Curdie. You dear good-kind Curdie, I'll give you a kiss when we get home, said the Princess. The nurse gave her a great pull by the hand she held, but at that instant something in the middle of the way, which had looked like a great lump of earth brought down by the rain, began to move. One after another it shot out four long things, like two arms and two legs, but it was now too dark to tell what they were. The nurse began to tremble from head to foot. Irene clasped Curdie's hand yet faster, and Curdie began to sing again. A one, two, hit and hoo, three, four, blast and bore, five, six, there's a fix, seven, eight, hold it straight, nine, ten, hit again, hurry, scurry, bother, smutty, there's a toad in the road, smash it, squash it, try it, try it, you're another, up and off, there's enough, ha! As he uttered the last words, Curdie let go his hold of his companion and rushed at the thing in the roads if he would trample it under his feet. It gave a great spring and ran straight up one of the rocks, like a huge spider. Curdie turned back laughing and took Irene's hand again. She grasped his very tight, but said nothing till they had passed the rocks. A few yards more and she found herself on a part of the road she knew and was able to speak again. Do you know, Curdie, I don't quite like your song, it sounds to me rather rude, she said. Well, perhaps it is, answered Curdie, I never thought of that, that's the way we have, we do it because they don't like it. Who don't like it? The cobs, as we call them. Don't, said the nurse. Why not, said Curdie. Oh, thank you, won't, please don't. Oh, if you ask me that way, of course I won't, but I don't a bit know why. Look, there are the lights of your gate house down below. You'll be at home in five minutes now. Nothing more happened. They reached home in safety, nobody had missed them, or even known they had gone out, and they arrived at the door belonging to their part of the house, without anyone seeing them. The nurse rushed in with a hurried and not overgracious good night to Curdie, but the princess pulled her hand from hers and was just throwing her arms around Curdie's neck when she caught her again and dragged her away. Lootie, Lootie, I promised a kiss, said Irene. A princess mustn't give kisses, it's not at all proper, said Lootie. But I promised, said the princess. There's no occasion, he's only a minor boy. He's a good boy and a brave boy, and he's been very kind to us. Lootie, Lootie, I promised. Then you shouldn't have promised. Lootie, I promised him a kiss. A royal highness, said Lootie, suddenly grown very respectful, must come in directly. Nurse, a princess, must not break her word, said Irene, drawing herself up and standing stock still. Lootie did not know which the king might count the worst, to let the princess be out after sunset, or to let her kiss a minor boy. She did not know that, being a gentleman as many kings have been, he would have counted neither of them the worst. However much he might have disliked his daughter to kiss the minor boy, he would not have had her break her word for all the goblins in creation. But as I say, the nurse was not lady enough to understand this, and so she was in a great difficulty, for if she insisted, someone might hear the princess cry and run to sea, and then all would come out. But here Curdie came again to the rescue. Never mind, Princess Irene, he said, you must not kiss me tonight, but you shall not break your word, I will come another time, you may be sure I will. Oh, thank you, Curdie, said the princess, and stopped crying. Good night, Irene, good night, Lootie, said Curdie, and turned and was out of sight in a moment. Oh, I should like to see him, muttered the nurse, as she carried the princess to the nursery. You will see him, said Irene, you may be sure Curdie will keep his word, he's sure to come again. Oh, I should like to see him, repeated the nurse, and said no more. She did not want to open a new cause of strife with the princess, by saying more plainly what she meant. Glad enough that she had succeeded both in getting home unseen and in keeping the princess from kissing the minor's boy, she resolved to watch her far better in future. Her carelessness had already doubled the danger she was in. Formerly the goblins were her only fear. Now she had to protect her charge from Curdie as well. End of Chapter 6 Chapter 7 of The Princess and the Goblin This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Reading by Andy Minter The Princess and the Goblin by George MacDonald Chapter 7 The Mines Curdie went home whistling. He resolved to say nothing about the princess, for fear of getting the nurse into trouble, for while he enjoyed teasing her because of her absurdity. He was careful not to do her any harm. He saw no more of the goblins and was soon fast asleep in his bed. He woke in the middle of the night and thought he heard curious noises outside. He sat up and listened, then got up, and opening the door very quietly went out. When he peeped round the corner, he saw, under his own window, a group of stumpy creatures, whom he at once recognized by their shape. Hardly, however, had he begun his or one, two, three. When they broke asunder, scurried away and were out of sight. He returned, laughing, got into bed again, and was fast asleep in a moment. Reflecting a little over the matter in the morning, he came to the conclusion that, as nothing of the kind had ever happened before, they must be annoyed with him for interfering to protect the princess. By the time he was dressed, however, he was thinking of something quite different, for he did not value the enmity of the goblins in the least. As soon as they had had breakfast, he set off with his father for the mine. They entered the hill by a natural opening under a huge rock, where a little stream rushed out. They followed its course for a few yards, when the passage took a turn, and sloped steeply into the heart of the hill. With many angles and windings and branchings off, and sometimes with steps where it came upon a natural gulf, it led them deep into the hill, before they arrived at the place where they were at present digging out the precious ore. This was of various kinds, for the mountain was very rich in the better sorts of metals. With flint and steel and tinderbox, they lighted their lamps, then fixed them on their heads, and were soon hard at work with their pickaxes and shovels and hammers. Father and son were at work near each other, but not in the same gang. The passages, out of which the ore was dug, they called gangs. For when the load or vein of ore was small, one miner would have to dig away alone in a passage no bigger than gave him just room to work, sometimes in uncomfortable, cramped positions. If they stopped for a moment, they could hear everywhere about them, some nearer and some farther off, the sounds of their companions, burrowing away in all directions, in the inside of the great mountain, some boring holes in the rock in order to blow it up with gunpowder, others shoveling the broken ore into baskets to be carried to the mouth of the mine, others hitting away with their pickaxes. Sometimes, if the miner was in a very lonely part, he would hear only a tap-tapping, no louder than that of a woodpecker, for the sound would come from a great distance off through the solid mountain rock. The work was hard at best, for it is very warm underground, but it was not particularly unpleasant, and some of the miners, when they wanted to earn a little more money for a particular purpose, would stop behind the rest and work all night. But you could not tell night from day down there, except from feeling tired and sleepy, for no light of the sun ever came into those gloomy regions. Some, who had thus remained behind during the night, although certain that there were none of their companions at work, would declare the next morning that they heard, every time they halted for a moment to take breath, a tap-tapping all about them, as if the mountain were then more full of miners than ever it was during the day, and some in consequence would never stay overnight, for all knew those were the sounds of the goblins. They worked only at night, for the miners' night was the goblins' day. Indeed, the greater number of the miners were afraid of the goblins, for there were strange stories well known among them of the treatment some had received whom the goblins had surprised at their work during the night. The more courageous of them, however, among them Peter Peterson and Curdie, who in this took after his father, had stayed in the mine all night again and again, and although they had several times encountered a few stray goblins, had never yet failed in driving them away. As I have indicated already, the chief defence against them was verse, for they hated verse of every kind, and some kinds they could not endure at all. I suspect they could not make any of themselves, and that was why they disliked it so much. At all events, those who were most afraid of them, were those who could neither make verses themselves, nor remember the verses that other people made for them, while those who were never afraid were those who could make verses for themselves. For although there were certain old rhymes which were very effectual, yet it was well known that a new rhyme, if of the right sort, was even more distasteful to them, and therefore more effectual in putting them to flight. Perhaps my readers may be wondering what the goblins could be about, working all night long, seeing they never carried up the ore and sold it, but when I have informed them concerning what Curdie learned the very next night, they will be able to understand. For Curdie had determined, if his father would permit him, to remain there alone this night, and that for two reasons. First, he wanted to get extra wages that he might buy a very warm red petticoat for his mother, who had begun to complain of the cold of the mountain air sooner than usual this autumn, and second, he had just a faint hope of finding out what the goblins were about under his window the night before. When he told his father, he made no objection, for he had great confidence in his boy's courage and resources. Ah, sorry, I can't stay with you, said Peter, but I want to go and pay the bus and the visit this evening, and besides, I've had a bit of a headache all day. Ah, sorry for that, father, said Curdie. Oh, it's not much. You'll be sure to take care of yourself, won't you? Yes, father, I will. I'll keep a sharp lookout, I promise you. Curdie was the only one who remained in the mine. About six o'clock the rest went away, every one bidding him good night, and telling him to take care of himself, but he was a great favourite with them all. Don't forget your rhymes, said one. No, no, answered Curdie. It's no matter if he does, said another. Well, he'd only have to make a no-one. Yes, but he might be able to make it fast enough, said another. And while he was cooking in his head, they might take a mean advantage and set upon him. Ah, do my best, said Curdie. I'm not afraid. Now, we all know that. They returned and left him. End of Chapter 7 Chapter 8 of The Princess and the Goblin This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Reading by Andy Minter The Princess and the Goblin by George MacDonald Chapter 8 The Goblins For some time Curdie worked away briskly, throwing all the ore he had disengaged on one side behind him to be ready for carrying out in the morning. He heard a good deal of Goblin tapping, but it all sounded far away in the hill, and he paid it little heed. Towards midnight he began to feel rather hungry, so he dropped his pickaxe, got out a lump of bread, which in the morning he had laid in a damp hole in the rock, sat down on a heap of ore, and ate his supper. Then he lent back for five minutes rest before beginning his work again, and laid his head against the rock. He had not kept the position for one minute, before he heard something which made him sharpen his ears. It sounded like a voice inside the rock. After a while he heard it again. It was a Goblin voice. There could be no doubt about that. And this time he could make out the words. "'Aren't we better be moving?' it said. A rougher and deeper voice replied. There's no hurry. That wretched little Mole won't be through to night if he works ever so hard. He's not by any means at that in his place.' "'But you still think the load does come through into our house?' said the first voice. "'Yes, but a good bit farther on than he's got to yet. If he had struck a stroke more to the side, just here,' said the Goblin, tapping the very stone as it seemed to curdy against which his head lay, he would have been through. But he's a couple of yards past it now, and if he follows the load it will be a week before it leads him in. You'll see him back there in a long way. Still, perhaps in case of accidents it would be as well to be getting out of this. Alpha, you take the great chest. That's your business, you know.' "'Yes, Dad. But you must help me to get it on my back. It's awfully heavy, you know.' "'Well, it isn't just a bag of smoke, I admit. But you're as strong as a mountain, Alpha.' "'Well, you say so, Dad. I think myself I'm all right. But I could carry ten times as much if it wasn't for my feet.' "'That's your weak point, I confess, my boy.' "'Ain't it yours too, Father?' "'Well, to be honest, it's a Goblin weakness. Why, they come so soft, I declare I am an Ardea. "'Especially when your head's so hard, you know, Father?' "'Yes, my boys. The Goblin's glory is his head. "'To think how the feathers up above there have to put on helmets and things when they go fighting.' "'But why don't we wear shoes like them, Father? I should like it, especially when I've got a chest like that on my head.' "'Well, you see, it's not the fashion. The King never wears shoes.' "'The Queen does?' "'Yes, but that's for distinction. "'The First Queen?' "'You see, I mean the King's first wife. War shoes, of course, "'cause she came from upstairs. "'And so when she died, the next Queen would not be inferior to her, "'as she called it, and would wear shoes, too. "'It was all pride. "'She's the artist in forbidding them to the rest of the women.' "'I'm sure they wouldn't wear them, no. "'Not for that, and that I wouldn't,' said the first voice, "'which was evidently that of the mother of the family. "'I can't think what either of them should.' "'Did not tell you, the first was from upstairs,' said the other. "'That was the only silly thing I ever knew his Majesty guilty of. "'Why should he marry an atlantic woman like that? "'One of our natural enemies, too. "'I suppose he fell in love with her. "'He's just as happy now with one of his own people.' "'Did she die very soon? "'They didn't tease her to death, did they? "'Oh, dear, no, the King worshipped her very footmarks. "'What made her die, then? "'Didn't the heir agree with her?' "'She died when the young Prince was born.' "'That's silly of her. "'We never do that. "'It must have been because she wore shoes.' "'Oh, I don't know that. "'Why did they wear shoes up there? "'Oh, now that's a sensible question, "'and I will answer it. "'But in order to do so, I must first tell you a secret. "'Ah, I once saw the Queen's fate. "'Without her shoes?' "'Yes, without her shoes. "'Now, did you? "'How was it?' "'I never knew who my day was. "'She didn't know I saw them. "'What do you think? "'They had toes.' "'To those? "'What's that?' "'Oh, they well ask. "'All should never have known "'if I hadn't seen the Queen's fate. "'Just imagine. "'The ends of her fate "'were split up into five or six thin pieces.' "'Horrid! "'How could the King have folded in love with her?' "'Forget that she wore shoes. "'That's just why she wore them. "'That's why all the men and women "'to upstairs wear shoes. "'They can't bear the sight of their own feet without them.' "'No, no, I understand. "'If you ever wish for shoes again, "'help well. "'Only at your feet I will. "'Oh, no, no, Mother, pray don't. "'Then don't you. "'But with such a big box on my head,' "'a horrid scream followed, "'which Curdie interpreted as in reply "'to a blow from his mother "'upon the feet of her eldest goblin. "'Well, I never knew so much before. "'Remark to forth voice. "'Your knowledge is not universal quite yet,' "'said the father. "'You were only fifty last month. "'Why don't you see to the bed and the bedding? "'Soon as we've finished our supper, "'we'll be up and going. "'What are you laughing at, husband?' "'I'm laughing to think what a mess the miners "'will find themselves in, "'somewhere before this day ten years.' "'Why, what do you mean?' "'Nothing. "'Well, if you do mean something, "'you always do mean something. "'It's more than you do, then, wife.' "'That may be, but it's not one I find out, you know.' "'Oh, you're a sharp one. "'What a mother you've got, Elfer!' "'Yes, Father.' "'Well, I suppose I must tell you. "'There, all at the palace, "'consulting about it at night, "'and as soon as we've got away from this thin place, "'I'm going there to hear what night they fix upon. "'I should like to see that young Raffi, "'and there on the other side, "'struggling in the agonism.' "'He dropped his voice, "'so low that Curdie could only hear a growl.' "'The growl went on in the low base for a good while, "'as inarticulate as if the goblin's tongue "'had been a sausage, "'and it was not until his wife spoke again "'that it rose again to its former pitch. "'But what shall we do when you're at the palace?' she asked. "'I'll see you safe in the new house, "'that I've been digging for you for the last two months. "'Bodge, you mind the table and chairs? "'I'll commit them to your care. "'The table has seven legs. "'Each chair three, I shall require them all at your hands.' "'After this a rose a confused conversation "'about the various household goods and their transport, "'and Curdie heard nothing more that was of any importance. "'He now knew, at least one of the reasons, "'for the constant sound of the goblin hammers "'and pickaxes at night. "'They were making new houses for themselves, "'to which they might retreat "'when the miners should threaten to break into their dwellings. "'But he had learnt two things of far greater importance. "'The first was that some grievous calamity "'was preparing and almost ready to fall upon the heads of the miners. "'The second was the one-week point of a goblin's body. "'He had not known that their feet were so tender "'as he now had reason to suspect. "'He had heard it said that they had no toes. "'He had never had opportunity "'of inspecting them closely enough in the dusk "'in which they always appeared "'to satisfy himself whether it was a correct report. "'Indeed he had not been able, "'even to satisfy himself, "'as to whether they had no fingers "'although that was also commonly said to be the fact. "'One of the miners indeed, "'who had more schooling than the rest, "'was want to argue that such must have been "'the primordial condition of humanity, "'and that education and handicraft "'had developed both toes and fingers, "'with which proposition "'Curdy had once heard his father sarcastically agree, "'alleging in support of it the probability "'that baby's gloves were a traditional remnant "'of the old state of things, "'while the stockings of all ages, "'no regard being paid in them to toes, "'pointed in the same direction. "'But what was of importance "'was the fact concerning the softness "'of the goblin feet, "'which he foresaw might be useful to all miners. "'What he had to do in the meantime, however, "'was to discover, if possible, "'the special evil designs the goblins "'had now in their heads. "'Although he knew all the gangs "'and all the natural galleries "'with which they communicated in the mine "'part of the mountain, "'he had not the least idea "'of where the palace of the king of the gnomes was. "'Otherwise, he would have set out at once "'on the enterprise of discovering "'what the said design was. "'He judged, unrightly, "'that it must lie in a farther part of the mountain. "'Between which and the mine, "'there was as yet no communication. "'There must be one nearly completed, however, "'for it could be but a thin partition "'which now separated them. "'If only he could get through "'in time to follow the goblins as they retreated. "'A few blows would doubtless be sufficient, "'just where his ear now lay. "'But if he attempted to strike there with his pickaxe, "'he would only hasten the departure of the family, "'but them on their guard, "'and perhaps lose their involuntary guidance. "'He therefore began to feel the wall with his hands, "'and soon found that some of the stones "'were loose enough to be drawn out with little noise. "'Laying hold of a large one with both his hands, "'he drew it gently out, and let it down softly. "'What was that noise?' said the goblin father. "'Curdy blew out his light, lest it should shine through. "'He must be that one miner "'that stayed behind the rest,' said the mother. "'Nah, he's been gone a good while. "'I've known to blow for an hour. Sarge wasn't like that. "'Then I suppose it must have been the stone "'carried down by the brook inside.' "'Perhaps. "'He'd had more room bombard. "'Curdy kept quite still. "'After a little while, "'hearing nothing but the sounds of their preparations "'for departure, mingled with an occasional word of direction, "'and anxious to know whether the removal of the stone "'had made an opening into the goblin's house, "'he put in his hand to feel. "'He went in a good way, "'and then came into contact with something soft. "'He had but a moment to feel it over. "'He was so quickly withdrawn. "'It was one of the tallest goblin feet. "'The owner of it gave a cry of fright. "'What's the matter, Helfer?' asked his mother. "'A beast came out of the wall and licked my foot.' "'Nonsense. "'There are no wild beasts in our country,' said his father. "'But it was, Father. I felt it. "'Nonsense, I say, "'will you malign your native realms "'and reduce them to a level with the country upstairs? "'That's swarming with wild beasts of every description. "'But I did feel it, Father. "'I'll tell you to hold your tongue, you'll know, Patriot.' "'Curdy suppressed his laughter, "'and lay as still as a mouse, "'but no stiller. "'For every moment he kept nibbling away "'with his fingers at the edges of the hole. "'He was slowly making it bigger. "'For here the rock had been "'very much shattered with the blasting.' "'There seemed to be a good many in the family "'to judge from the mass of confused talk, "'which now and then came through the hole. "'But when all were speaking together, "'and just as if they had bottle-brushes, "'at least one in their throats, "'it was not easy to make out much that was said. "'At length he heard once more "'what the Father Goblin was saying.' "'Now then,' he said, "'get your bundles on your becks. "'Here, Helfer. More l'll help you up with your chest.' "'I wish it was my chest, Father. "'Your turn will come in good time enough. "'Take haste, or I must go to the meeting "'at the palace tonight. "'When that's over, we can come back "'and clear out the last of the things. "'For our enemies return in the morning. "'Now, light your torches and come along. "'What a distinction it is to provide our own light. "'Instead of being dependent on a thing hung up in the air, "'a most disagreeable contrivance "'intended, no doubt, to blind us when we venture out "'under its bountiful influence. "'Quite glaring and vulgar, I'll call it. "'No, no doubt useful to poor creatures "'who haven't the wit to make light for themselves.' "'Curdy could hardly keep himself from calling through "'to know whether they made fire to light their torches by. "'But a moment's reflection showed him "'that they would have said they did, "'inasmuch as they struck two stones together and the fire came. "'End of Chapter 8, Chapter 9 of The Princess and the Goblin. "'This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. "'Reading by Andy Minter, The Princess and the Goblin, "'by George MacDonald. "'Chapter 9, The Hall of the Goblin Palace.' "'A sound of many soft feet followed, but soon ceased. "'Then Curdy flew at the hull like a tiger and tore and pulled. "'The sides gave way, and it was soon large enough "'for him to crawl through. "'He would not betray himself by rekindling his lamp, "'but the torches of the retreating company, "'which he found departing in a straight line up a long avenue "'from the door of their cave, threw back light enough "'to afford him a glance round the deserted home of the goblins. "'To his surprise, he could discover nothing to distinguish it "'from an ordinary natural cave in the rock, "'upon many of which he had come with the rest of the miners "'in the progress of their excavations. "'The goblins had talked of coming back "'for the rest of their household gear. "'He saw nothing that would have made him suspect "'the family had taken shelter there for a single night. "'The floor was rough and stony, "'the walls full of projecting corners, "'the roof in one place, twenty feet high, "'in another, endangering his forehead. "'While on one side, a stream, no thicker than a needle, "'it is true, but still sufficient to spread a wide "'dampness over the wall, flowed down the face of the rock. "'But the troop in front of him was toiling under heavy burdens. "'He could distinguish Helfer, now and then, "'in flickering light and shade, "'with his heavy chest on his bending shoulders, "'while the second brother was almost buried "'in what looked like a great feather bed. "'Where did he get the feathers?' thought Curdie. "'But in a moment the troop disappeared at a turn of the way, "'and it was now both safe and necessary for Curdie to follow them, "'less they should be round the next turning "'before he saw them again. "'For so he might lose them altogether.' "'He darted after them like a greyhound. "'When he reached the corner and looked cautiously round, "'he saw them again at some distance down another long passage. "'None of the galleries he saw that night "'bore signs of the work of man, or of goblin either. "'Stalactites, far older than the mines, "'hung from their roofs, and their floors were rough "'with boulders and large round stones, "'showing that there water must once have run. "'He waited again at this corner till they had disappeared "'round the next, and so followed them a long way "'through one passage after another. "'The passages grew more and more lofty, "'and were more and more covered in the roof "'with shining stalactites. "'It was a strange enough procession which he followed, "'but the strangest part of it was the household animals "'which crowded among the feet of the goblins. "'It was true they had no wild animals down there, "'at least they did not know of any, "'but they had a wonderful number of tame ones. "'I must, however, reserve any contributions "'towards the natural history of these "'for a later position in my story.' "'At length, turning a corner too abruptly, "'he had almost rushed into the middle of the goblin family, "'for there they had already set down all their burdens "'on the floor of a cave considerably larger "'than that which they had left. "'They were, as yet, too breathless to speak, "'else he would have had warning of their arrest. "'He started back, however, before anyone saw him, "'and retreating a good way, "'stood watching till the father should come out "'to go to the palace. "'Before very long, both he and his son Helfer appeared, "'and kept on in the same direction as before, "'while Curdie followed them again with renewed precaution. "'For a long time he heard no sound, "'except something like the rush of a river inside the rock. "'But at length, what seemed the far-off noise "'of a great shouting reached his ears, "'which, however, presently ceased. "'After advancing a good way further, "'he thought he heard a single voice. "'It sounded clearer and clearer as he went on, "'until at last he could almost distinguish the words. "'In a moment or two, "'keeping after the goblins round another corner, "'he once more started back, this time in amazement. "'He was at the entrance of a magnificent cavern "'of an oval shape, "'once probably a huge natural reservoir of water, "'now the great palace hall of the goblins. "'It rose to a tremendous height, "'but the roof was composed of such shining materials, "'and the multitude of torches carried by the goblins "'who crowded the floor, "'lighted up the place so brilliantly "'that Curdie could see to the top quite well. "'But he had no idea how immense the place was "'until his eyes got accustomed to it, "'which was not for a good many minutes. "'The rough projections on the walls, "'and the shadows thrown upwards from them by the torches, "'made the sides of the chamber look as if they were crowded "'with statues upon brackets and pedestals, "'reaching in irregular tiers from floor to roof. "'The walls themselves were, in many parts, "'of gloriously shining substances, "'some of them gorgeously coloured besides, "'which powerfully contrasted with the shadows. "'Curdie could not help wondering whether his rhymes "'would be of any use against such a multitude of goblins "'as filled the floor of the hall, "'and indeed felt considerably tempted "'to begin his shout over one, two, three. "'But as there was no reason for routing them, "'and much for endeavouring to discover their designs, "'he kept himself perfectly quiet, "'and peering round the edge of the doorway, "'listened with both his sharp ears. "'At the other end of the hall, "'high above the heads of the multitude, "'was a terrace-like ledge of considerable height, "'caused by the receding of the upper part of the cavern wall. "'Upon this sat the king and his court. "'The king on a throne hollowed out of a huge block "'of green copper ore, "'and his court upon lower seats round it. "'The king had been making them a speech, "'and the applause which followed it "'was what Curdie had heard. "'One of the court was now addressing the multitude. "'What he heard him say was to the following effect. "'Ainces appears that two plans have been for some time, "'together working in the strong head of his majesty "'for the deliverance of his people. "'Regardless of the fact that we were the first possessors "'of the regions which they now inhabit, "'regardless equally of the fact that we abandoned "'that region from the loftiest motives, "'regardless also of the self-evident fact "'that we excel them so far in mental ability "'as they excel us in stature, "'they look upon us as a degraded race "'and make a mockery of all our finer feelings. "'But the time has almost arrived when, "'thanks to his majesty's inventive genius, "'it will be in our power to take a thorough revenge "'upon them once for all, "'in respect of their untrendly behavior.' "'May it please you, Majesty,' cried the voice close by the door, which Curdie recognized as that of the goblin he had followed. "'Who is he that interrupts the chancellor?' cried another from near the throne. "'Glump!' answered several voices. "'He is our trusty subject,' said the King himself in a slow and stately voice. "'Let him come forward and speak.' A lane was parted through the crowd, and Glump, having ascended the platform, and bowed to the King, spoke as follows. "'Sire, I would have held my peace, "'had I not known that I only knew our nearer was the moment "'to which the chancellor had just referred. "'In all probability, before another day is passed, "'the enemy will have broken through into my house, "'the partition between being even now "'not more on the foot in thickness.' "'Hmm, not quite so much,' thought Curdie to himself. "'It's very evening. "'I've had to remove my household effects. "'Therefore, the sooner we are ready to carry out the plan "'for the execution of which His Majesty has been "'making such magnificent decorations, the better. "'I may add that within the last few days, "'I have perceived a small outbreak in my dining room, "'which, combined with observations upon the course "'of the river escaping where evil men enter, "'has convinced me that close to the spot "'must be a deep gulf in its channel. "'This discovery will, I trust, "'add considerably to the otherwise immense forces "'at His Majesty's disposal.' "'He ceased, and the King graciously acknowledged "'his speech with the bend of his head, "'whereupon Glump, after about his Majesty, slid down among the rest of the undistinguished multitude. "'Then the Chancellor rose and resumed.' "'The information which the worthy glum has given us, "'he said, might have been of considerable import "'at the present moment, "'but for that other design already referred to, "'which naturally takes precedence. "'His Majesty, unwilling to proceed to extremities "'and well aware that such measures sooner or later "'result in violent reactions, "'has ex-cogitated a more fundamental "'and comprehensive measure of which I need say no more. "'Should His Majesty be successful, "'as who dares to doubt, "'then a peace, all to the advantage "'of the Goblin Kingdom, "'will be established for our generation at least, "'when they're absolutely secure by the pledge, "'which is Royal Highness the Prince will have and hold "'for the good behavior of her relatives. "'Should His Majesty fail, "'which who shall dare even to imagine "'in his most secret sorts, "'then will be the time for carrying out with regga "'the design to which glum referred "'and for which our preparations are even now, "'all but completed, "'the fader of the former will render the latter "'impe-o-tive.'" Curdie, perceiving that the Assembly was drawing to a close and that there was little chance of either plan being more fully discovered, now thought it prudent to make his escape before the goblins began to disperse and slipped quietly away. There was not much danger of meeting any goblins, for all the men at least were left behind him in the palace, but there was considerable danger of his taking a wrong turning, for he had now no light and had therefore to depend upon his memory and his hands. After he had left behind him the glow that issued from the door of Glump's new abode, he was utterly without guide so far as his eyes were concerned. He was most anxious to get back through the hull before the goblins should return to fetch the remains of their furniture. It was not that he was in the least afraid of them, but as it was of the utmost importance that he should thoroughly discover what the plans they were cherishing were, he must not occasion the slightest suspicion that they were watched by a miner. He hurried on, feeling his way along the walls of rock. Had he not been very courageous, he must have been very anxious, for he could not but know that if he lost his way it would be the most difficult thing in the world to find it again. Morning would bring no light into these regions, and towards him, least of all, who was known as a special rhymester and persecutor, could goblins be expected to exercise courtesy. Well might he wish that he had brought his lamp and tinder-box with him, of which he had not thought when he crept so eagerly after the goblins. He wished it all the more when, after a while, he found his way blocked up and could get no farther. It was of no use to turn back, for he had not the least idea where he had begun to go wrong. Mechanically, however, he kept feeling about the walls that hemmed him in. His hand came upon a place where a tiny stream of water was running down the face of the rock. Ah, what a stupid I am, he said to himself. I'm actually at the end of my journey. And there are the goblins coming back to fetch their things, he added, as the red glimmer of their torches appeared at the end of the long avenue that led up to the cave. In a moment he had thrown himself on the floor and wriggled backwards through the hole. The floor on the other side was several feet lower, which made it easier to get back. It was all he could do to lift the largest stone he had taken out of the hole, but he did manage to shove it in again. He sat down on the awe-heap and thought. He was pretty sure that the latter plan of the goblins was to inundate the mine by breaking outlets for the water accumulated in the natural reservoirs of the mountain, as well as running through portions of it. While the part hollowed by the miners remained shut off from that inhabited by the goblins, they had had no opportunity of injuring them thus. But now that a passage was broken through, and the goblins' part proved the higher in the mountain, it was clear to Curdie that the mine could be destroyed in an hour. Water was always the chief danger to which the miners were exposed. They met with a little choke-damp sometimes, but never with the explosive fire-damp so common in coal mines. Hence they were careful as soon as they saw any appearance of water. As a result of his reflections, while the goblins were busy in their old home, it seemed to Curdie that it would be best to build up the hole of this gang, filling it with stone and clay or lye, so that there should be not a smallest channel for the water to get into. There was not, however, any immediate danger, for the execution of the goblins' plan was contingent upon the failure of that unknown design which was to take precedence of it, and he was most anxious to keep the door of communication open, that he might, if possible, discover what the former plan was. At the same time, they could not resume their intermittent labour for the inundation without his finding it out, when, by putting all hands to the work, the one existing outlet might in a single night be rendered impenetrable to any weight of water, for by filling the gang entirely up, their embankment would be buttressed by the side of the mountain itself. As soon as he found that the goblins had again retired, he lighted his lamp and proceeded to fill the hole he had made with such stones as he could withdraw when he pleased. He then thought it better, as he might have occasion to be up a good many nights after this, to go home and have some sleep. How pleasant the night air felt upon the outside of the mountain, after what he had gone through in the inside of it. He hurried up the hill, without meeting a single goblin on the way, and called and tapped at the window, until he woke his father, who soon rose and let him in. He told him the whole story, and just as he had expected, his father thought it best to work that load no farther, but at the same time, to pretend occasionally to be at work there still, in order that the goblins might have no suspicions. Both father and son then went to bed, and slept soundly until the morning. END OF CHAPTER 9 CHAPTER 10 OF THE PRINCESS AND THE GOBLIN This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Reading by Andy Minter THE PRINCESS AND THE GOBLIN by George MacDonald CHAPTER 10 THE PRINCESS'S KING PAPAR The weather continued fine for weeks, and the little princess went out every day. So long a period of fine weather had indeed never been known upon that mountain. The only uncomfortable thing was that her nurse was so nervous and particular about being in before the sun was down, that often she would take to her heels, when nothing worse than a fleecy cloud crossing the sun through a shadow on the hillside. And many an evening they were home a full hour before the sunlight had left the weather-cock on the stables. If it had not been for such odd behaviour, Irene would by this time have almost forgotten the goblins. She never forgot Curdie, but him she remembered for his own sake, and indeed would have remembered him if only because a princess never forgets her debts until they are paid. One splendid sun-shiny day, about an hour after noon, Irene, who was playing on a lawn in the garden, heard the distant blast of a bugle. She jumped up with a cry of joy, for she knew by that particular blast that her father was on his way to see her. This part of the garden lay on the slope of the hill, and allowed a full view of the country below. So she shaded her eyes with her hand, and looked far away to catch the first glimpse of shining armour. In a few moments a little troop came glittering round the shoulder of a hill. Spears and helmets were sparkling and gleaming, banners were flying, horses brancing, and again came the bugle-bast, which was to her like the voice of her father, calling across the distance, Irene, I'm coming! On and on they came, until she could clearly distinguish the king. He rode a white horse, and was taller than any of the men with him. He wore a narrow circle of gold set with jewels around his helmet, and as he came still nearer, Irene could discern the flashing of the stones in the sun. It was a long time since he had been to see her, and her little heart beat faster and faster as the shining troop approached, for she loved her king-papa very dearly, and was nowhere so happy as in his arms. When they reached a certain point, after which she could see them no more from the garden, she ran to the gate, and there stood till up they came, clanging and stamping, with one more bright bugle-blast, which said, Irene, I am come! By this time the people of the house were all gathered at the gate, but Irene stood alone in front of them. When the horseman pulled up, she ran to the side of the white horse, and held up her arms. The king stopped, and took her hands. In an instant she was on the saddle, and clasped in his great strong arms. I wish I could describe the king, so that you could see him in your mind. He had gentle blue eyes, but a nose that made him look like an eagle. A long dark beard, streaked with silvery lines, flowed from his mouth almost to his waist, and as Irene sat on the saddle, and hid her glad face upon his bosom, it mingled with the golden hair which her mother had given her, and the two together were like a cloud, with streaks of the sun woven through it. After he had held her to his heart for a minute, he spoke to his white horse, and the great, beautiful creature, which had been prancing so proudly a little while before, walked as gently as a lady, for he knew that he had a little lady on his back, through the gate, and up to the door of the house. Then the king set her on the ground, and dismounting took her hand, and walked with her into the great hall, which was hardly ever entered, except when he came to see his little princess. There he sat down with two of his counsellors, who had accompanied him. To have some refreshment. And Irene sat on his right hand, and drank her milk out of a wooden bowl, curiously carved. After the king had eaten and drunk, he turned to the princess, and said, stroking her hair, and now, my child, what shall we do next? This was the question he almost always put to her first, after their meal together, and Irene had been waiting for it with some impatience. For now, she thought, she should be able to settle a question which constantly perplexed her. I should like you to take me to see my great-old grandmother. The king looked grave, and said, What does my little daughter mean? I mean the queen Irene that lives up in the tower, the very old lady you know with the long hair of silver. The king only gazed at his little princess, with a look which she could not understand. She's got her crown in her bedroom, she went on, but I've not been in there yet. You know she's there, don't you? No, said the king, very quietly. Then it must all be a dream, said Irene. I half thought it was, but I couldn't be sure. Now I'm sure of it. Besides, I couldn't find her the next time I went up. At that moment a snow-white pigeon flew in at an open window, and settled upon Irene's head. She broke into a merry laugh, cowered a little, and put up her hands to her head, saying, Dear Dovey, don't peck me, you'll pull out my hair with your long claws, if you don't mind. The king stretched out his hand to take the pigeon, but it spread its wings, and flew again through the open window, when its whiteness made one flash in the sun and vanished. The king laid his hand on his princess's head, held it back a little, gazed in her face, smiled half a smile, and sighed half a sigh. Come, my child, we'll have a walk in the garden together, he said. You won't come up and see my huge, great, beautiful grandmother then, King Papa? said the princess. Not this time, said the king very gently. She has not invited me, you know, and great old ladies like her do not choose to be visited, without leave asked and given. The garden was a very lovely place. Being upon a mountain side, there were parts in it, where the rocks came through in great masses, and all immediately about them remained quite wild. Tufts of heather grew upon them, and other hardy mountain plants and flowers, while near them would be lovely roses and lilies and all pleasant garden flowers. This mingling of the wild mountain with the civilized garden was very quaint, and it was impossible for any number of gardeners to make such a garden look formal and stiff. Against one of these rocks was a garden seat, shattered from the afternoon sun by the overhanging of the rock itself. There was a little winding path up to the top of the rock, and on top another seat. But they sat on the seat at its foot, because the sun was hot, and there they talked together of many things. At length the king said, You were out late, one evening, Irene. Yes, papa, it was my fault, and Lutie was very sorry. I must talk to Lutie about it, said the king. Don't speak loud to her, please, papa, said Irene. She's been so afraid of being late ever since. Indeed, she has not been naughty. It was only a mistake for once. Once might be too often, murmured the king to himself, as he stroked his child's head. I can't tell you how he had come to know. I'm sure Curdie had not told him. Someone about the palace must have seen them after all. He sat for a good while, thinking. There was no sound to be heard, except that of a little stream, which ran merrily out of an opening in the rock by where they sat, and sped away down the hill through the garden. Then he rose, and leaving Irene where she was, went into the house, and sent for Lutie, with whom he had a talk that made her cry. When in the evening he rode away on his great white horse, he left six of his attendants behind him, with orders that three of them should watch outside the house every night, walking round and round it, from sunset to sunrise. It was clear he was not quite comfortable about the princess. End of Chapter 10, Chapter 11 of The Princess and the Goblin This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Reading by Andy Minter The Princess and the Goblin by George MacDonald Chapter 11 The Old Lady's Bedroom Nothing more happened worth telling for some time. The autumn came and went by. There were no more flowers in the garden. The wind blew strong and howled among the rocks. The rain fell, and drenched the few yellow and red leaves that could not get off the bare branches. Again and again there would be a glorious morning, followed by a pouring afternoon, and sometimes for a week together there would be rain, nothing but rain all day, and then the most lovely cloudless night, with the sky all out in full-blown stars, not one missing. But the princess could not see much of them, for she went to bed early. The winter drew on, and she found things growing dreary. When it was too stormy to go out, and she had got tired of her toys, Lutie would take her about the house. Sometimes to the housekeeper's room, where the housekeeper, who was a good kind old woman, made much of her. Sometimes to the servant's hall, or the kitchen, where she was not princess merely but absolute queen, and ran a great risk of being spoiled. Sometimes she would run off herself to the room where the men-at-arms whom a king had left sat, and they showed her their arms and accoutrements, and did what they could to amuse her. Still, at times she found it very dreary, and often and often wished that her huge great-grandmother had not been a dream. One morning the nurse left her with the housekeeper for a while. To amuse her she turned out the contents of an old cabinet upon the table. The little princess found her treasures, queer ancient ornaments, and many things, the use of which she could not imagine, far more interesting than her own toys, and sat playing with them for two hours or more. But at length, in handing a curious old-fashioned brooch, she ran the pin of it into her thumb, and gave a little scream with the sharpness of the pain, but would have thought little more of it had not the pain increased, and her thumb began to swell. This alarmed the housekeeper greatly. The nurse was fetched, the doctor was sent for, her hand was pulsed, and long before her usual time she was put to bed. The pain still continued, and although she fell asleep and dreamt of good many dreams, there was the pain always in every dream. At last it woke her up. The moon was shining brightly into the room. The poultice had fallen off her hand, and it was burning hot. She fancied if she could hold it into the moonlight, that would cool it. So she got out of bed, without waking the nurse, who lay at the other end of the room, and went to the window. When she looked out, she saw one of the men at arms, walking in the garden with the moonlight glancing on his armour. She was just going to tap on the window and call him, for she wanted to tell him all about it, when she bitought herself that that might wake Lutie, and she would put her into her bed again. So she resolved to go to the window of another room, and call him from there. It was so much nicer to have somebody to talk to than to lie awake in bed, with the burning pain in her hand. She opened the door very gently, and went through the nursery, which did not look into the garden, to go to the other window. But when she came to the foot of the old staircase, there was the moon shining down from some window high up, and making the worm-eaten oak look very strange and delicate and lovely. In a moment she was putting her little feet, one after the other, in the silvery path up to the stair, looking behind as she went, to see the shadow they made in the middle of the silver. Some little girls would have been afraid to find themselves, thus alone, in the middle of the night. But Irene was a princess. As she went slowly up the stair, not quite sure that she was not dreaming, suddenly a great longing woke up in her heart to try once more whether she could not find the old lady with the silvery hair. If she is a dream, she said to herself, then I am the likelihood to find her, if I am dreaming. So up and up she went, stair after stair, until she came to the many rooms, all just as she had seen them before. Through passage after passage she softly sped, comforting herself that if she should lose her way it would not matter much, because when she woke she would find herself in her own bed with Lutie not far off. But, as if she had known every step of the way, she walked straight to the door at the foot of the narrow stair that led to the tower. What if I should really find my beautiful old grandmother up there? She said to herself as she crept up the steep steps. When she reached the top she stood a moment, listening in the dark, for there was no moon there. Yes, it was, it was the hum of the spinning wheel. What a diligent grandmother to work both day and night. She tapped gently at the door. Come in, Irene, said the sweet voice. The princess opened the door and entered. There was the moonlight streaming in at the window, and in the middle of the moonlight sat the old lady, in her black dress with the white lace, and her silvery hair mingling with the moonlight, so that you could not have told which was which. Come in, Irene, she said again. Can you tell me what I am spinning? She speaks, thought Irene, just as if she had seen me five minutes ago or yesterday at the farthest. No, she answered, I don't know what you're spinning. Please, I thought you were a dream. Why couldn't I find you before, great-great-grandmother? That you are hardly old enough to understand, but you would have found me sooner if you hadn't come to think that I was a dream. I will give you one reason, though, why you couldn't find me. I didn't want you to find me. Why, please? Because I did not want Lootie to know I was here. But you told me to tell Lootie. Yes, but I knew Lootie would not believe you. If she were to see me sitting, spinning here, she wouldn't believe me either. Why? Because she couldn't. She would rub her eyes and go away and say she felt queer and forget half of it and more, and then say it had all been a dream. Just like me, said Irene, feeling very much ashamed of herself. Yes, a good deal like you. But not just like you, for you've come again, and Lootie wouldn't have come again. She would have said no, no. She had had enough of such nonsense. Is it naughty of Lootie, then? It would be naughty of you. I've never done anything for Lootie. And you did wash my face and hands for me? said Irene, beginning to cry. The old lady smiled a sweet smile and said, I'm not vexed with you, my child, nor with Lootie either. But I don't want you to say anything more to Lootie about me. If she should ask you, you must just be silent. But I do not think she will ask you. All the time they talked, the old lady kept on spinning. You haven't told me yet what I am spinning, she said. Because I don't know. It's very pretty stuff. It was indeed very pretty stuff. There was a good bunch of it on the disk staff attached to the spinning wheel. And in the moonlight it shone like—what shall I say it was like? It was not white enough for silver. Yes, it was like silver, but shone grey rather than white, and glittered only a little. And the thread the old lady drew out from it was so fine that Irene could hardly see it. I am spinning this for you, my child. For me, what am I to do with it, please? I will tell you by and by. But first I will tell you what it is. It is spider-web of a particular kind. My pigeons bring it me from over the great sea. There is only one forest where the spiders live who make this particular kind, the finest and strongest of any. I have nearly finished my present job. What is on the rock now will be enough. I have a week's work there yet, though, she added, looking at the bunch. Do you work all day and all night, too, great-great-great-grandmother, said the princess, thinking to be very polite with so many greats? I'm not quite so great as all that, she answered, smiling almost merrily. If you call me grandmother, that will do. No, I don't work every night. Only moonlit nights, and then no longer than the moon shines upon my wheel. I shan't work much longer to-night. And what will you do next, grandmother? Go to bed. Would you like to see my bedroom? Yes, that I should. Then I think I won't work any longer to-night. I shall be in good time. The old lady rose, and left her wheel standing just as it was. You see, there was no good in putting it away. For where there was not any furniture, there was no danger of being untidy. Then she took Irene by the hand. But it was her bad hand, and Irene gave a little cry of pain. Oh, my child, said her grandmother, what is the matter? Irene held her hand into the moonlight, that the old lady might see it, and told her all about it, at which she looked grave. But she only said, give me your other hand. And having led her out upon the little dark landing, opened the door on the opposite side of it. What was Irene's surprise to see the loveliest room she had ever seen in her life? It was large and lofty and dome-shaped. From the centre hung a lamp as round as a ball, shining as if with the brightest moonlight, which made everything visible in the room. Though not so clearly that the princess could tell what many of the things were, a large oval bed stood in the middle with a coverlet of rose colour, and velvet curtains all round it of a lovely pale blue. The walls were also blue, spangled all over with what looked like stars of silver. The old lady left her, and going to a strange-looking cabinet opened it, and took out a curious silver casket. Then she sat down on a low chair, and calling Irene made her kneel before her while she looked at her hand. Having examined it, she opened the casket, and took from it a little ointment. The sweetest odour filled the room, like that of roses and lilies, as she rubbed the ointment gently all over the hot, swollen hand. Her touch was so pleasant and cool, that it seemed to drive away the pain and heat wherever it came. "'Oh, grandmother, it's so nice,' said Irene, "'thank you, thank you.' Then the old lady went to a chest of drawers, and took out a large handkerchief of gossamer-like cambrick, which she tied round her hand. "'I don't think I can let you go away to-night,' she said. "'Would you like to sleep with me?' "'Oh, yes, yes, dear grandmother,' said Irene, and would have clapped her hands, forgetting that she could not. "'You won't be afraid, then, to go to bed with such an old woman?' "'No, you're so beautiful, grandmother.' "'But I am very old.' "'And I suppose I am very young. "'You won't mind sleeping with such a very young woman, grandmother?' "'You sweet little pertness,' said the old lady, and drew her towards her, and kissed her on the forehead and the cheek and the mouth. Then she got a large silver basin, and having poured some water into it, made Irene sit on the chair, and washed her feet. This done, she was ready for bed, and oh, what a delicious bed it was into which her grandmother laid her. She could hardly have told she was lying upon anything. She felt nothing but the softness. The old lady, having undressed herself, lay down beside her. "'Why don't you put out your moon?' asked the princess. "'That never goes out, night or day,' she answered. "'In the darkest night, if any of my pigeons are out on a message, they always see my moon and know where to fly to. But if somebody besides the pigeons were to see it, somebody about the house, I mean, they would come to look what it was and find you.' "'The better for them, then,' said the old lady. "'But it does not happen above five times in a hundred years that any one does see it. The greater part of those who do take it for a meteor. Wink their eyes and forget it again. Besides, nobody could find the room except I pleased. Besides, again, I will tell you a secret. If that light were to go out, you would fancy yourself lying in a bare garret on a heap of old straw, and would not see one of the pleasant things round about you all the time.' "'I hope it will never go out,' said the princess. "'I hope not. But it's time we both went to sleep. Shall I take you in my arms?' The little princess nestled close up to the old lady, who took her in both her arms and held her close to her bosom. "'Oh, dear, this is so nice,' said the princess. I didn't know anything in the world could be so comfortable. I should like to lie here forever.' "'You may, if you will,' said the old lady, but I must put you to one trial. Not a very hard one, I hope. This night-week you must come back to me. If you don't, I do not know when you may find me again, and you will soon want me very much.' "'Oh, please, don't let me forget.' "'You shall not forget. The only question is whether you will believe I am anywhere. Whether you will believe I am anything but a dream. You may be sure I will do all I can to help you to come, but it will rest with yourself after all. On the night of next Friday you must come to me. Mine now!' "'I'll try,' said the princess. "'Then good night,' said the old lady, and kissed the forehead which lay in her bosom. In a moment more the little princess was dreaming in the midst of the loveliest dreams of summer, seas, and moonlight, and mossy springs, and great murmuring trees, and beds of wild flowers, with such odours as she had never smelt before. But after all no dream could be more lovely than what she had left behind when she fell asleep. In the morning she found herself in her own bed. There was no handkerchief or anything else on her hand. Only a sweet odour lingered about it. The swelling had all gone down. The prick of the brooch had vanished. In fact, her hand was perfectly well.