 Section Zero of Honey Bee by Anatole, France. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Kate Follis. Honey Bee by Anatole, France. Translated by Mrs. John Lane. It is an honour, but also a great responsibility, to introduce, through the dangerous medium of a translation, one of the most distinguished writers of our time, and probably the greatest living master of style, to a new world, the world of childhood. One is conscious that it is as impossible to translate the charm and art of Anatole, France, as it is to describe in dull, colourless words, the exquisite perfume of the rose. Such as this translation is, I offer it with dividends, realising that I have undertaken a difficult task, and yet I venture to do so, for I long to make known to English and American children, one of the loveliest and noblest of stories, a story overflowing with poetic imagination, wisdom and humour, divine qualities to which the heart of the child is always open as the flower to the dew. I want young children as well as others, older only by accident of years, but whose hearts are always young, which is the eternal youth, to know the greatest French writer of his day, when, by the magic of his pen, he, like them, becomes young, gentle, and charming. I want them to learn to love his honey-bee, newest and sweetest of those darlings of childhood, who have come down to us from bygone ages, distant lands and half-forgotten races, but who, in their eternal charm, appealed to all children, since children first heard those wonderful stories, or poured over treasured books, that awakened the ardent young imagination to love, beauty, romance, and goodness. So, too, some day, will honey-bee, the golden-haired princess of the dear good dwarfs, join her enchanting companions, Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast, Red Riding Hood, The Sleeping Beauty, The Frog Prince, Puss and Boots, Aladdin, and all the others of that immortal galaxy, whose glorious destiny it has been to be beloved by childhood. May they welcome honey-bee, youngest of all, and so the master, supreme when he writes for men and women, will find open to him a new world, pure and more beautiful in the hearts of English and American children. Annie E. Laine. End of Section Zero. Translated by Mrs. John Laine. Chapter 1 Which Treats of the Appearance of the Country and Serves as Introduction Thanks, which now serves as a station for the Custom House officers, is still called the Taylor's Booth, and it is quite probable that this name is in memory of a certain master Jean who is mentioned in this story. The sea, which encroaches year by year, will soon cover this spot so curiously named. Such changes are in the nature of things. The mountains sink in the course of ages, and the depths of the seas, on the contrary, rise until their shells and corals are carried to the regions of clouds and ice. Nothing endures. The face of land and sea is forever changing. Tradition alone preserves the memory of men and places across the ages, and renders real to us what has long ceased to exist, in telling you of Clarides I wish to take you back to times that have long since vanished. Thus I begin. The Countess of Blanchland, having placed on her golden hair a little black hood embroidered with pearls. But before proceeding I must beg very serious persons not to read this. It is not written for them. It is not written for grave people who despise trifles, and who always require to be instructed. I only venture to offer this to those who like to be entertained, and whose minds are both young and gay. Only those who are amused by innocent pleasures will read this to the end. Of these I beg, should they have little children, that they will tell them about my honey-bee. I wish this story to please both boys and girls, and yet I hardly dare to hope it will. It is too frivolous for them, and really only suitable for old-fashioned children. I have a pretty little neighbour of nine, whose library I examined the other day. I found many books on the microscope and the zoophytes, as well as several scientific story-books. One of these I opened at the following lines. The Cuttlefish, Sepia of Fish and Alice, is a cephalopodic mollusk, whose body includes a spongy organ containing a colloquious fluid saturated with carbonate of lime. My pretty little neighbour finds this story very interesting. I beg of her, unless she wishes me to die of mortification, never to read the story of Honeybee. Chapter 2 In which we learn what the White Rose meant to the Countess of Blanche Laund. Having placed on her golden hair a little black hood embroidered with pearls, and bound about her waist a widow's girdle, the Countess of Blanche Laund entered the chapel where it was her daily custom to pray for the soul of her husband who had been killed in single-handed combat with a giant from Ireland. That day she saw a White Rose lying on the cushion of her pre-do. At sight of this she turned pale, her eyes grew dim, she bowed her head in wrong her hand, for she knew that when a Countess of Blanche Laund is about to die she always finds a White Rose on her pre-do. Warned by this that her time had come to leave a world in which in so short a time she had been wife, mother, and widow, she entered the chamber where her son George slept in the care of the nurses. He was three years old. His long eyelashes threw a lovely shadow on his cheeks, and his mouth looked like a flower. At sight of him so helpless and so beautiful she began to weep. My little child, she cried in anguish, My dear little child, you still never have known me, and my image will fade for ever from your dear eyes. And yet to be truly your mother I nourished you with my own milk, and for love of you I refused the hand of the noblest Cavaliers. So speaking she kissed a medallion in which was her own portrait and a lock of her hair, and this she hung about the neck of her son. A mother's tear fell on the little one's cheek as he stirred in his cradle and rubbed his eyes with his little hands. But the Countess turned her head away and fled out of the room. How could eyes about to be extinguished for ever bear the light of two dear eyes in which the soul was only beginning to dawn? She ordered a steed to be saddled and followed by her squire, Francor, she rode to the castle of Clarides. The Duchess of Clarides embraced the Countess of Blanchland. Loveliest, what good fortune brings you here? The fortune that brings me here is not good. Listen, my friend, we were married within a few years of each other, and similar fates have made us widows, for in these times of chivalry the best perished first, and in order to live long one must be a monk. When you became a mother I had already been one for two years. Your daughter, Honey Bee, is lovely as the day, and my little George is good. I love you and you love me. No, then, but I have found a white rose on the cushion of my pre-do. I am about to die. I leave you my son. The Duchess knew what the white rose meant to the ladies of Blanchland. She began to weep, and in the midst of her tears she promised to bring up Honey Bee and George as brother and sister, and to give nothing to one which the other did not share. Still in each other's arms the two women approached the cradle where little Honey Bee slept under light curtains, blue as the sky, and without opening her eyes she moved her little arms, and as she spread her fingers five little rosy rays came out of each sleeve. He will defend her, said the mother of George. And she will love him, the mother of Honey Bee replied. She will love him, a clear little voice repeated which the Duchess recognized as that of a spirit which for a long time had lived under the hearthstone. On her return to her manor, the lady of Blanchland divided her jewels among her women, and having had herself anointed with perfumed ointments, and robed in her richest raiment in order to honor the body destined to rise again at the day of judgment, she lay down on her bed and fell asleep, never again to awaken. Chapter 3 Wherein begins the love of George of Blanchland and Honey Bee of Clareed. Contrary to the common destiny which is to have more goodness than beauty, or more beauty than goodness, the Duchess of Clareed was as good as she was beautiful, and she was so beautiful that many princes, though they had only seen her portrait, demanded her hand in marriage, but to all their pleading she replied, I shall have but one husband as I have but one soul. However, after five years of mourning, she left off her long veil and her black robes, so as not to spoil the happiness of those about her, and in order that all should smile and be free to enjoy themselves in her presence. Her duchy comprised a great extent of country, moorlands overgrown by heather, covered the desolate expanse, lakes in which fishermen sometimes caught magic fish, and mountains which rose in fearful solitudes over subterraneous regions inhabited by dwarfs. She governed Clareed's with the help of an old monk who, having escaped from Constantinople and seen much violence and treachery, had but little faith in human goodness. He lived in a tower in the company of birds and books, and from this place he filled his position as counsellor by the aid of a number of little maxims. His rules were these, never revive a law once fallen into disuse, always accede to the demands of a people for fear of revolt, but accede as slowly as possible because no sooner is one reform granted than the public demands another and you can be turned out for acceding too quickly as well as for resisting too long. The duchess let him have his own way, for she understood nothing about politics. She was compassionate, and as she was unable to respect all men, she pitied those who were unfortunate enough to be wicked. She helped the suffering in every possible way, visited the sick, comforted the widows, and took the poor orphans under her protection. She educated her daughter, Honey Bee, with a charming wisdom. Having brought the child up only to do good, she never denied her any pleasure. This good woman kept the promise she had made to the poor countess of Blanche Laund. She was like a mother to George, and she made no difference between him and Honey Bee. They grew up together, and George approved of Honey Bee, though he thought her rather small. Once when they were very little, he went up to her and asked, Will you play with me? I should like to, said Honey Bee. We will make mud pies, said George, which they proceeded to do. But as Honey Bee made hers very badly, George struck her fingers with his spade, whereupon Honey Bee set up a most awful roar, and the squire, Francois, who was strolling about in the garden, said to his young master, It is not worthy of a count of Blanche Laund to strike young ladies your lordship, whereupon George was seized with an ardent desire to hit Francois also with his spade. But as this presented insurmountable difficulties, he resigned himself to do what was easier, and that was to stand with his nose against the trunk of a big tree and weep torrents. In the meantime, Honey Bee took care to encourage her own tears by digging her fists into her eyes, and in her despair she rubbed her nose against the trunk of a neighbouring tree. When night came, and softly covered the earth, Honey Bee and George were still weeping, each in front of a tree. The Duchess of Clarets was obliged to come and take her daughter by one hand, and George by the other, and lead them back to the castle. Their eyes were red, and their noses were red, and their cheeks shone. They sighed and sobbed enough to break one's heart, but they ate a good supper, after which they were both put to bed. As soon as the candle was blown out, they reappeared like two little ghosts and two little nightgowns, and they hugged each other and laughed at the top of their voices, and thus began the love of Honey Bee, of Clarets, and George, of Blanchland. Chapter 4 Which Treats of Education in General and George of Blanchland in particular So George grew up in the castle side by side with Honey Bee, whom he affectionately called his sister, though he knew she was not. He had masters in fencing, riding, swimming, gymnastics, dancing, hunting, falconry, tennis, and, indeed, in all the arts. He even had a writing master. This was an old cleric, humble of manner, but very proud within, who taught him all manner of penmanship, and the more beautiful this was, the less decipherable it became. Very little pleasure or profit did George get out of the old cleric's lessons, as little as out of those of an old monk who taught him grammar in barbarous terms. George could not understand the sense of learning a language which one knows as a matter of course, and which is called one's mother tongue. He only enjoyed himself with Francois, the squire, who, having knocked about the world, understood the ways of men and beasts, could describe all sorts of countries, and compose songs which he could not write. Francois was the only one of his masters who taught George anything, for he was the one who really loved him, and the only good lessons are those which are given with love. The two old Gogolais, the writing master and the grammar master, who hated each other with all their hearts, were, however, united in a common hatred of the old squire, whom they accused of being a drunkard. It is true that Francois frequented the tavern the Pewter Pot, somewhat too zealously. It was here that he forgot his sorrows and composed his songs, but of course it was very wrong of him. Homer made better verses than Francois, and Homer only drank the water of the springs. As for sorrows, the whole world has sorrows, and the thing to make one forget them is not the wine one drinks, but the good one does. But Francois was an old man grown gray in harness, faithful and trustworthy, and the two masters of writing and grammar should have hidden his failings from the Duchess, instead of giving her an exaggerated account of them. Francois is a drunkard, said the writing master, and when he comes back from the Pewter Pot, he makes a letter S as he walks. Moreover, it is the only letter he has ever made, because if it is your grace, this drunkard is an ass. The grammar master added, and the songs Francois sings as he staggers about, err against all rules and are constructed on no model at all. He ignores all the rules of rhetoric, please, your grace. The Duchess had a natural distaste for pedants and tale-bearers. She did what we all would have done in her place. At first she did not listen to them, but as they again began to repeat their tittle-tattle, she ended by believing them, and decided to send Francois away. However, to give him an honourable exile, she sent him to Rome to obtain the blessing of the Pope. This journey was all the longer for Francois the squire, because a great many taverns much frequented by musicians separated the Duchy of Clarides, from the Holy Apostolic Seat. In the course of this story we shall see how soon the Duchess regretted having deprived the two children of their most faithful guardian. CHAPTER V. Which tells how the Duchess took Honeyby and George to the Hermitage, and of their encounter with a hideous old woman. That morning it was the first Sunday after Easter, the Duchess rode out of the castle on her great sorrel horse, while on her left George of Blanchland was mounted on a dark horse with a white star on his black forehead, and on her right Honeyby guided her milk-white steed with rose-coloured reins. They were on their way to the Hermitage to hear mass. Soldiers armed with lances formed their escort, and as they passed the people crowded forward to admire them, and indeed all three were very fair to see. Under a veil of silver flowers, and with flowing mantle, the Duchess had an air of lovely majesty, while the pearls with which her coiff was embroidered, shone with a soft radiance that suited the face and soul of this beautiful lady. George by her side with flowing hair and sparkling eyes was very good to see, and on the other side rode Honeyby, the tender and pure colour of her face, like a caress for the eyes, but most glorious of all her fair tresses, flowing over her shoulders, held by a circle of gold, surmounted by three gold flowers, seemed the shining mantle of her youth and beauty. The good people said, on seeing her, what a lovely young damsel. The master-taylor old John took his grandson Peter in his arms to point out Honeyby to him, and Peter asked was she alive or was she an image of wax, for he could not understand how anyone could be so white and so lovely, and yet belong to the same race as himself. Little Peter with his good big weather-beaten cheeks and his little home-spun shirt, laced behind in country fashion. While the Duchess accepted the people's homage with gracious kindness, the two children showed how it gratified their pride, George by his blushes, Honeyby by her smiles, and for this reason the Duchess said to them, How kindly these good people greet us, for what reason George and what is the reason Honeyby? So they should, said Honeyby. It's their duty, George added. But why should it be their duty, asked the Duchess, and as neither replied she continued, I will tell you, for more than three hundred years the dupes of Clareeds, from father to son, have lands in hand protected these poor people, so that they could gather the harvest of the fields they had sown, for more than three hundred years all the Duchesses of Clareeds have spun the cloth for the poor, have visited the sick, and have held the newborn at the baptismal font, that is the reason they greet you, my children. George was lost in deep thought. We must protect those who toil on the land. And Honeyby said, one should spin for the poor, and thus chatting and meditating they went on their way through meadows starred with flowers. A fringe of blue mountains lay against the distant horizon. George pointed towards the east. Is that a great steel shield I see over there? Oh no, said Honeyby, it's a round silver clasp, as big as the moon. It is neither a steel shield nor a silver clasp, my children, replied the Duchess, but a lake, glittering in the sunshine. The surface of this lake, which is seen from here, is as smooth as a mirror, is stirred by innumerable ripples. Its borders, which appear as distinct as if cut in metal, are really covered by reeds, with feathery plumes and irises whose flower is like a human glance between the blades of swords. Every morning a white mist rises over the lake, which shines like armour under the midday sun, but none must approach it, for in it dwell the nixies, who lure passers by into their crystal abodes. At this moment the bell of the hermitage was heard. Let us dismount, said the Duchess, and walk to the chapel. It was neither on elephants nor camels that the wise men of the east approached the manger. They heard the hermit's mass, a hideous old crone covered with rags, knelt beside the Duchess, who, on leaving the church, offered her holy water. Except it, good mother, she said. Chort was amazed. Do you not know, said the Duchess, that in the poor you honour the chosen of our Lord Jesus Christ. A beggar such as this as well as the good Duke of Roche-Noise held you at the font when you were baptised, and your little sister, Honeybee, also had one of these poor creatures as godmother. The old crone, who seemed to have guessed the boy's thoughts, leaned towards him. Fair Prince, she cried mockingly, may you conquer as many kingdoms as I have lost. I was the queen of the island of pearls, and at the mountains of gold, each day my table was served with fourteen different kinds of fish, and a neat rope-aid bore my train. And by what misfortune have you lost your islands and your mountains, good woman? Asked the Duchess. I vexed the dwarves, and they carried me far away from my dominions. Are the dwarves so powerful? George asked. As they live in the earth, the old woman answered, they know the virtue of precious stones, they work in metals, and they conceal the hidden sources of the springs. And what did you do to vex them? asked the Duchess. On a December night, said the old woman, one of them came to ask permission to prepare a great midnight banquet in the kitchen of the castle, which, vaster than a chapter-house, was furnished with casseroles, frying pans, earthen saucepans, kettles, pans, portable ovens, grid irons, boilers, stripping pans, Dutch ovens, fish, kettles, copper pans, pastry molds, copper chunks, goblets of gold and silver, and mottled wood, not to mention iron-roasting jacks artistically forged, and the huge black cauldron which hung from the pot-hook. He promised neither to disturb nor to damage anything. I refused his request, and he disappeared, muttering vague threats. The third night had been Christmas. The same dwarf returned to the chamber where I slept. He was accompanied by innumerable others who polled me out of bed, and carried me to an unknown land in my nightgown. Such, they said as they loved me, such as the punishment of the rich, who refuse even a part of their treasure to the industrious and kindly dwarf folk who work in gold and cause the springs to flow. Thus said the toothless old woman, and the Duchess having comforted her with words and money, she and the two children retraced their way to the castle. Chapter 6 Which Tells Of What Can Be Seen From The Keep Of The Reeds It was one day, shortly after this, that Honeyby and George, without being observed, climbed the steps of the watch-tower which stands in the middle of the castle of Clarides. Having reached the platform, they shouted at the top of their voices, and clapped their hands. Their view extended down the hillside, divided into brown and green squares of cultivated fields. Woods and mountains lay dimly blue against the distant horizon. Little sister, cried George, little sister, look at the whole wide world. The world is very big, said Honeyby. My teachers, said George, have taught me that it is very big, but, as Gertrude, our housekeeper, says, one must see to believe. They went the round of the platform. Here's something wonderful, little brother. Quite Honeyby. The castle stands in the middle of the earth, and we are on the watch-tower in the middle of the castle, and so we are standing in the middle of the earth. Ha, ha, ha! And indeed the horizon formed a circle about the children of which the watch-tower was the centre. We are in the middle of the earth. Ha, ha, ha! George repeated, whereupon they both started a thinking. What a pity that the world is so big, said Honeyby. One might get lost, and be separated from one's friends. George shrugged his shoulders. How lucky that the world is so big! One can go in search of adventures. When I am grown up, I mean to conquer the mountains that stand at the ends of the earth. That is where the moon rises, I shall seize her as she passes, and I will give her to you, Honeyby. Yes, said Honeyby, give her to me, and I will put her in my hair. Then they busied themselves, searching for the places they knew as on a map. I recognise everything, said Honeyby, who recognised nothing. But what are those little square stones scattered over the hillside? Houses, George replied. Those are houses. Don't you recognise the capital of the Duchy of Claride's little sister? After all, it is great city. It has three streets, and one can drive through one of them. Don't you remember that we passed through it last week when we went to the Hermitage? And what is that winding brook? That is the river. See the old stone bridge down there? The bridge under which we fished for crayfish. That's the one, and in one of the niches stands the statue of the woman without a head. One cannot see her from here because she is too small. I remember. But why hasn't she got a head? Probably because she has lost it. Without saying if this explanation was satisfactory, Honeyby gazed at the horizon. The little brother, little brother, just to see what sparkles by the side of the blue mountains. It is the lake. It is the lake. They then remembered what the Duchess had told them of these beautiful and dangerous waters where the niches dwell. We will go there, said Honeyby. George was aghast. He stared at her with his mouth wide open. But the Duchess has forbidden us to go out alone. So how can we go to this lake, which is at the end of the earth? How can we go? I don't know. It's you who ought to know, for you are a man, and you have a grammar-master. This peaked George, who replied that one might be a man, and even a very brave man, and yet not know all the roads on earth, whereupon Honeyby said dryly with a little air of scorn which made him blush to his ears. I never said I would conquer the blue mountains or take down the moon. I don't know the way to the lake, but I mean to find it. George pretended to laugh. You laugh like a cucumber. Cucumbers neither laugh nor cry. If they did laugh, they would laugh like you. I shall go along to the lake, and while I search for the beautiful waters in which the Nixies live, you shall stay alone at home like a good girl. I will leave you my needlework and my doll. Take care of them, George. Take good care of them. George was proud, and he was conscious of the humiliation with which Honeyby covered him. Gloomily and with head bowed, he cried in a hollow voice, very well, then, we will go to the lake. Chapter 7 In which is described how George and Honeyby went to the lake? The next day after the midday meal, the Duchess having gone to her own room, George took Honeyby by the hand. Now come, he said, where, hush! They crept downstairs and crossed the courtyard. After they had passed the postern, Honeyby again asked where they were going. To the lake, George said resolutely. Honeyby opened her mouth wide, but remained speechless, to go so far without permission, and in satin shoes, for her shoes were of satin, there is no sense in it. We must go, and there is no need to be sensible. Such was George's proud reply. She had once humiliated him, and now she pretended to be astonished. This time it was he who disdainfully sent her back to her dolls. The girls always tempt one on to adventures, and then run away. So mean, she could remain, he'd go alone. She clung to his arm, he pushed her away, she hung about his neck. Little brother, she sobbed, I will follow you. He allowed himself to be moved by such touching repentance. Come then, but not through the town. We may be seen. We will follow the ramparts, and then we can reach the highway by a cross-road. And so they went, hand in hand, while George explained his plans. We will follow the road we took to the Hermitage, and then we shall be sure to see the lake, just as we did the other day, and then we can cross the fields in a beeline. A beeline is a pretty rustic way of saying a straight line, and they both laughed because of the young girl's name, which fitted in so oddly. Honeybee picked flowers along the ditches. She made a posy of marshmallows, white mulline, asters, and chrysanthemums. The flowers faded in her little hands, and it was pitiful to see them when Honeybee crossed the old stone bridge. As she did not know what to do with them, she decided to throw them into the water, and to refresh them, but finally she preferred to give them to the woman without a head. She begged George to lift her in his arms so as to make her tall enough, and she placed her arm full of wild flowers between the folded hands of the old stone figure. After she was far away she looked back and saw a pigeon resting on the shoulder of the statue. When they had been walking some time, said Honeybee, I'm thirsty. So am I," George replied, but the river is far behind us, and I see neither brook nor fountain. The sun is so hot that he has drunk them all up. What shall we do?" So they talked and lamented when they saw a peasant woman approach who carried a basket of fruit. Cherries! cried George. How unlucky! I have no money to buy any. I have money," said Honeybee. She pulled out of her pocket a little purse in which were five pieces of gold. Good woman! she said to the peasant, will you give me as many cherries as my frock will hold? And she raised her little skirt with her two hands. The woman threw in two or three handfuls of cherries. With one hand Honeybee held the uplifted skirt and with the other she offered the woman a gold piece. Is that enough? The woman clutched the gold piece which would amply have paid not only for the cherries in the basket, but for the tree on which they grew and the plot of land on which the tree stored. The art for one replied, I'm satisfied if only to oblige you, little princess. Well, then, put some more cherries in my brother's cap, said Honeybee, and you shall have another gold piece. This was done. The peasant woman went on her way, meditating in what old stocking or under what mattress she should hide her two gold pieces. And the two children followed the road, eating the cherries and throwing the stones to the right and the left. George chose the cherries that hung two by two on one stem and made earrings for his little sister, and he laughed to see the lovely twin fruit dangle its vermilion beauty against her cheeks. A pebble stopped their joyous progress, and it got into Honeybee's little shoe and began to limp. At every step she took her golden curls bobbed against her cheek, and so limping she sat down on a bank by the roadside. Her brother knelt down and took off the satin shoe. He shook it and out dropped a little white pebble. Little brother, she said, as she looked at her feet, the next time we go to the lake, we'll put on boots. They were already sinking against the radiant sky. A soft breeze caressed their cheeks and necks, and so cheered and refreshed the two little travellers proceeded on their way. To make walking easier they went hand in hand, and they laughed to see their moving shadows melt together before them. They sang, made Marian setting forth to find the mill with sacks of corn to grind, her donkey-jan best rowed. My dainty maiden, Marian, she mounted on her donkey-jan and took the millward road. But Honeybee stopped. I've lost my shoe, my satin shoe! She cried, and so it was. The little shoe whose silken laces had become loose in walking lay in the road covered with dust. Then, as she looked back and saw the towers of the castle of Clarides fade into the distant twilight, her heart sank and the tears came to her eyes. The wolves will eat us! She cried, and her mother will never see us again and she will die of grief. But George comforted her as he put on her shoe. When the castle bell rings for supper we shall have returned home to Clarides. The miller saw her coming nigh and could not well forbear to cry. Your donkey, you must tether my dainty maiden, Marian, tether you hear your donkey-jan who brought to strain together. The lake, Honeybee, say the lake, the lake, the lake! Yes, George, the lake! George shouted hurrah and flung his hat in the air. Honeybee was too proper to fling hers up also. So, taking off the shoe that wouldn't stay on she threw it joyfully over her head. There lay the lake in the depths of the valley and its curved and sloping banks made a framework of foliage and flowers about its silver waves. It lay there clear and a tranquil and one could see the swaying of the indistinct green of its banks. But the children could find no path through the underbrush that would lead to its beautiful waters. While they were searching for one their legs were nipped by some geese driven by a little girl dressed in a sheepskin and carrying a switch. George asked her name. Gilberta. Well, then, Gilberta, how can one go to the lake? Folks doesn't go. Why? Because. But supposing folks did. If folks did there'd be a path and one would take that path. George could think of no adequate reply to this guardian of the geese. Let's go, he said. Farther on we shall be sure to find a way through the woods. And we will pick nuts and eat them, said Honeybee, for I am hungry. The next time we go to the lake we'll bring a satchel full of good things to eat. That we will, little sister, said George, and I quite agree with Francois, our squire, who, when he went to Rome, took a ham with him in case he should hunger and a flask, lest he should be thirsty. But hurry, for it is growing late, though I don't know the time. The shepherdess is no by looking at the sun, not a shepherdess. Yet it seems to me that when we left the sun was over our head, and now it is down there, far behind at the town and castle of Clarides. I wonder if this happens every day and what it means. While they looked at the sun a cloud of dust rose up from the high road and they saw some cavaliers with glittering weapons ride past it full speed. The children hid in the underbrush in great terror. They are thieves or probably ogres, they thought. They were really guards sent by the Duchess of Clarides in search of the little truants. The two little adventurers found a footpath in the underbrush, not a lover's lane, for it was impossible to walk side by side holding hands as is the fashion of lovers. Nor could the print of human footsteps be seen but only indentations left by innumerable tiny cloven feet. Those are the feet of little devils, said Honeybee. Or dear suggested George. The matter was never explained but what is certain is that the footpath descended in a gentle slope towards the edge of the lake which lay before the two children in all its languorous and silent beauty. The willows surrounded its banks with their tender foliage. The slender blades of the reeds with their delicate plumes swayed lightly over the water. They formed tremulous islands about which the water lilies spread their great heart-shaped leaves and snow-white flowers. Over these blossoming islands dragonflies all emerald or azure with wings of flame sped their shrill flight in suddenly altered curves. The children plunged their burning feet with joy in the damp sand overgrown with tufted horsetails and the reed mace with its slender lance. The sweet flag wafted towards them its humble fragrance and the water-plantain unrolled about them its filaments of lace on the margin of the sleeping waters which the willow-herb starred with its purple flowers. End of Section 2 Section 3 of Honey Bee by Anatole France translated by Mrs. John Lane this LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by Kate Follis. Chapter 8 Wherein we shall see what happened to George of Blanchland because he approached the lake in which the Nixies dwell. Honey Bee crossed the sand between two clumps of willows and the little spirit of the place leaped into the water in front of her leaving circles that grew greater and greater and finally vanished. This spirit was a little green frog with a white belly. All was silent. A fresh breeze swept over the clear lake whose every ripple had the gracious curve of a smile. This lake is pretty, said Honey Bee, but my feet are bleeding in my little torn shoes and I'm very hungry. I wish I were back in the castle. Little sister, said George, sit down on the grass. I will wrap your feet in the leaves to cool them. I will go in search of supper for you. High up along the road I saw some ripe blackberries. I will fetch you the sweetest and best in my hat. Give me your handkerchief. I will fill it with strawberries for there are strawberries near here along the footpath under the shade of the trees and I will fill my pockets with nuts. He made a bed of moss for Honey Bee under a willow on the edge of the lake and then he left her. Honey Bee lay with folded hands on her little mossy bed and watched the light of the first stars tremble in the pale sky then her eyes half closed and yet it seemed to her as if overhead she saw a little dwarf mounted on a raven. It was not fancy for having rained in the black bird who was gnawing at the bridal the dwarf stopped just above the young girl and stared it down at her with his round eyes whereupon he disappeared at full gallop all this Honey Bee saw vaguely and then she fell asleep. She was still asleep when George returned with the fruit he had gathered which he placed at her side then he climbed down to the lake while he waited for her to awaken the lake slept under its delicate crown of verger a light mist swept softly over the waters suddenly the moon appeared between the branches and then the waves were strewn as if with countless stars but George could see that the lights which irradiated the waters were not all the broken reflections of the moon for blue flames advanced in circles swaying and undulating as if in a dance soon he saw that the blue flames flickered over the white faces of women beautiful faces rising on the crests of the waves and crowned with seaweeds and seashells with sea green tresses floating over their shoulders and veils flowing from under their breasts that shimmered with pearls the child recognized the Nixies and tried to flee but already their cold white arms had seized him and in spite of his struggles and cries he was born across the waters along the galleries of porphyry and crystal Chapter 9 wherein we shall see how Honey Bee was taken to the Dwarfs the moon had risen over the lake and the water now only showed broken reflections of its disc Honey Bee still slept the dwarf who had watched her came back again on his raven followed this time by a crowd of little men they were very little men their white beards hung down to their knees they looked like old men with the figures of children by their leather aprons and the hammers which hung from their belts one could see that they were workers in metals they had a curious gait for they leaped to amazing heights and turned the most extraordinary somersaults and showed the most inconceivable agility that made them seem more like spirits than human beings yet while cutting their most foolhardy capers they preserved an unalterable gravity of demeanor to such a degree that it was quite impossible to make out their real characters they placed themselves in a circle about the sleeping child now then said the smallest of the dwarfs from the heights of his plumed charger now then did I deceive you when I said that the loveliest of princesses was lying asleep on the borders of the lake and do you not thank me for bringing you here we thank you Bob replied one of the dwarfs who looked like an elderly poet indeed there is nothing lovelier in the world than this young damsel she is more rosy than the dawn which rises on the mountains and the gold we forge is not so bright as the gold of her trusses very good pick nothing can be truer cried the dwarfs but what shall we do with this lovely little lady pick who looked like a very elderly poet did not reply to this question probably because he knew no better than they knew what to do with this pretty lady let us build a large cage and put her in a dwarf by the name of rug suggested against this another dwarf called Dig vehemently protested it was Dig's opinion that only wild beasts were ever put into cages and there was nothing yet to prove that the pretty lady was one of these but rug clung to his idea for the reason possibly that he had no other he defended it with much subtlety said he if this person is not savage he will certainly become so as a result of the cage which will be therefore not only useful but indispensable this reasoning displeased the dwarfs and one of them named it tad denounced it with much indignation he was such a good dwarf he promised to take the beautiful child back to her kindred who must be great nobles but this advice was rejected as being contrary to the custom of the dwarfs we ought to follow the ways of justice not custom said tad but no one paid any further attention to him and the assembly broke into a tumult as a dwarf named pow a simple soul but just gave his advice in these terms we must begin by awakening this young lady seeing she declines to a wake of herself if she spends the night here her eyelids will be swollen tomorrow and her beauty will be much impaired for it is very unhealthy to sleep in a wood on the borders of a lake this opinion met with genera the proofle as it did not clash with any other pick who looked like an elderly poet burdened with care approached the young girl and looked at her very intently under the impression that a single one of his glances would be quite sufficient to rouse the dreamer out of the deepest sleep but pick was quite mistaken as to the power of his glance for honeybee continued to sleep with folded hands seeing this the good tad pulled her gently by her sleeve there upon she partly opened her eyes and raised herself on her elbow when she found herself lying on a bed of moss surrounded by dwarfs she thought what she saw was nothing but a dream and she rubbed her eyes to open them so that instead of this fantastic vision she should see the pure light of morning as it entered her little blue room in which she thought she was for her mind heavy with sleep did not recall to her the adventure of the lake but indeed it was useless to rubberize the dwarfs did not vanish and so she was obliged to believe that they were real then she looked about with frightened eyes and saw the forest and remembered George, my brother George she cried in anguish the dwarfs crowded about her and for fear of seeing them she hid her face in her hands George, George where's my brother George? she sobbed the dwarfs could not tell her for the good reason that they did not know and she wept hot tears and cried aloud for her mother and brother how long to weep with her and in his efforts to console he addressed her with rather vague remarks to not distress yourself so much he urged it would be a pity for so lovely a young damsel to spoil her eyes with weeping rather tell us your story which cannot fail to be very amusing we should be so pleased she did not listen she rose and tried to escape but her bare and swollen feet caused her such pain that she fell on her knees sobbing most pitifully Tad held her in his arms and Pow tenderly kissed her hand it was this that gave her the courage to look at them and she saw that they seemed full of compassion Pick looked to her like one inspired and yet very innocent and perceiving that all these little men were full of compassion for her she said little men it is a pity you are so ugly but I will love you all the same if you will only give me something to eat for I am so hungry Bob all the dwarves cried at once go and fetch some supper and Bob flew off on his raven all the same the dwarves presented this small girls injustice and finding them ugly Rug was very angry Pick said to himself she's only a child and she does not see the light of genius which shines in my eyes and which gives them the power which crushes as well as the grace which charms as for Pow he thought to himself perhaps it would have been better if I had not awakened this young lady who finds us ugly but Tad said smiling you will find us less ugly dear young lady when you love us more as he spoke Bob reappeared on his raven he held a dish of gold on which were a roast pheasant an oatmeal cake and a bottle of Claret he cut innumerable capers as he laid this supper at the feet of Honey Bee little men Honey Bee said as she ate your supper is very good my name is Honey Bee let us go in search of my brother and then we will all go together to Clareed's where Mama is waiting for us in great anxiety but Dig who was a kind dwarf represented to Honey Bee that she was not able to walk that her brother was big enough to find his own way that no misfortune could come to him in a country in which all the wild beasts had been destroyed we will make a litter he said and cover it with leaves and moss and we will put you on it this way we will carry you to the mountain and present you to the king of the dwarves according to the custom of our people all the dwarves applauded Honey Bee looked at her aching feet and remained silent she was glad to learn that there were no wild beasts in the country and on the whole she was willing to trust herself to the kindness of the dwarves they were already busy constructing the litter those with hatchets were felling two young fir trees with resounding blows this brought back to Rogg his original suggestion if instead of a litter we made a cage he urged but he aroused a unanimous protest Tad looked at him scornfully you are more like a human being than a dwarf, Rogg he said but at least it is to the honour of our race that the most wicked dwarf is also the most stupid in the meantime the task had been accomplished the dwarves leaped into the air and in a bound seized and cut the branches out of which they deftly wove a basket chair having covered it with moss and leaves they placed Honey Bee upon it then they seized the two poles placed them on their shoulders and then off they went to the mountain Chapter 10 in which we are faithfully told how King Locke received Honey Bee of Clareeds they climbed a winding path along the wooded slope of the hill here and there granite boulders, bare and blasted broke through the grey verger of the dwarf oaks and the somber purple mountain with its bluish ravines formed an impassable barrier about the desolate landscape the procession preceded by Bob on his feathered steed passed through a chasm overgrown with brambles Honey Bee with her golden hair flowing over her shoulders looked like the dawn breaking on the mountains supposing of course that the dawn was ever frightened and called her mother and tried to escape for all these things she did as she caught a confused glimpse of dwarves armed to the teeth lying in ambush along the windings of the rocks with bows bent or lanced at rest they stood immovable their tunics of wild bee skins and their long knives that hung from their belts gave them a most terrible appearance game, furred and feathered lay beside them and yet these huntsmen to judge only by their faces did not seem very grim on the contrary they appeared gentle and grave like the dwarves of the forest whom they greatly resembled in their midst stood a dwarf full of majesty he wore a cock feather over his ear and on his head a diadem set with enormous gems his mantle raised at the shoulder disclosed a muscular arm covered with circlets of gold a horn of ivory and chased silver hung from his belt his left hand rested on his lance in an attitude of quiet strength and his right he held over his eyes so as to look towards honeybee and the light King Locke said the forest dwarves we have brought you the beautiful child we have found her name is Honeybee you have done well said King Locke she shall live amongst us according to the custom of the dwarves Honeybee he said approaching her you are welcome he spoke very gently for he already felt very kindly toward her he lifted himself on the tips of his toes to kiss her hand that hung at her side and he assured her not only that he would do her no harm but that he would try to gratify all her wishes even should she long for necklaces, mirrors stuffs from cashmere and silks from China I wish I had some shoes replied Honeybee upon which King Locke struck his lance against a bronze disc that hung on the surface of the rock and instantly something bounded like a ball out of the depths of the cavern increasing in size it disclosed the face of a dwarf with features such as painters give to the illustrious Belisarius but his leather apron proclaimed that he was a shoemaker he was indeed the chief of the shoemakers true said the King choose the softest leather out of our storehouses take a cloth of gold and silver as the guardian of my treasures for a thousand pearls of the finest water this leather, these fabrics and these pearls create a pair of shoes for the Lady Honeybee at these words truth threw himself at the feet of Honeybee and measured them with great care little King Locke said Honeybee I want the pretty shoes you promised at once because as soon as I have them I must return to Clarides to my mother you shall have the shoes King Locke replied you shall have them to walk about the mountains not to return to Clarides for never again shall you leave this kingdom where we will teach you wonderful secrets still unknown on earth the dwarfs are superior to men and it is your good fortune that you are made welcome amongst them it is my misfortune replied Honeybee little King Locke give me a pair of wooden shoes such as the peasants wear and let me return to Clarides but King Locke made a sign with his head to signify that this was impossible then Honeybee clasped her hands and said coaxingly little King Locke let me go and I will love you very much you will forget me in your shining world little King Locke I will never forget you and I will love you as much as I love flying wind and who is flying wind it is my milk-white steed and he has rose-colored reins and he eats out of my hand when he was very little Francois the squire used to bring him to my room every morning and I kissed him but now Francois and Rome and flying wind is too big to melt the stairs King Locke smiled will you love me more than flying wind indeed I would said Honeybee well said cried the King indeed I would but I cannot I hate you little King Locke because you will not let me see my mother in George again who is George George is George and I love him the friendship of King Locke for Honeybee had increased prodigiously in a few minutes as he had already made up his mind to marry her as soon as she was of age and hoped through her to reconcile men and dwarves he feared that later on George might become his rival and wreck his plans it was because of this that he turned away frowning his head bowed as if with care Honeybee seeing that she had offended him pulled him gently by his mantle little King Locke she said in a voice both tender and sad why should we make each other unhappy you and I it is in the nature of things replied King Locke I cannot take you back to your mother but I will send her a dream which will tell her your fate dear Honeybee and that will comfort her little King Locke and Honeybee smiled through her tears what a good idea but I will tell you just what you ought to do you must send my mother a dream every night in which she will see me and every night you must send me a dream in which I shall see her and King Locke promised and so said so done every night Honeybee saw her mother and every night the Duchess saw her daughter and that satisfied their love just a little End of Section 3 Section 4 of Honeybee by Anatole France translated by Mrs. John Lane this Lebervox recording is in the public domain recording by Kate Follis Chapter 11 in which the marvels of the Kingdom of the Dwarfs are accurately described as well as the dolls that were given to Honeybee the Kingdom of the Dwarfs was very deep and extended under the greater part of the earth though one only caught a glimpse of the sky here and there through the clefts in the rocks the roads, the avenues, the palaces and the galleries of this subterranean region were not plunged in absolute darkness only a few spaces and caverns were lost in obscurity the rest was illumined not by lamps or torches but by stars or meteors which diffused a strange and fantastic light and this light revealed the most astonishing marvels one saw stupendous edifices hewn out of the solid rocks and in some places palaces cut out of granite of such height that their tracery of stone was lost under the arches of this gigantic cavern in haze across which fell the orange glimmer of little stars less lustrous than the moon there were fortresses in this kingdom of the most crushing and formidable dimensions an amphitheater in which the stone seats formed a half-circle whose extent it was impossible to measure at a single glance and vast wells with sculptured sides in which one could descend for ever and yet never reach the bottom all these structures so out of proportion it would seem to the size of the inhabitants were quite in keeping with their curious and fantastic genius dwarfs in pointed hoods pricked with fern-laves whirled about these edifices in the airiest fashion it was common to see them leap up to the height of two or three stories from the lava pavement and rebound like balls their faces meanwhile preserving that impressive dignity with which sculptors endowed great men of antiquity no one was idle and all worked zealously entire districts echoed to the sound of hammers the shrill discord of machinery broke against the arches of the cavern and it was a curious sight to see the crowds of minors blacksmiths, gold-beaters, jewelers, diamond-polishers handle pickaxes, hammers, pinchers and files with the dexterity of monkeys however there was a more peaceful region here coarse and powerful figures and shapeless columns loomed in chaotic confusion hewn out of the virgin rock and seemed to date back to an immemorial antiquity here a palace with low portals extended its ponderous expense it was the palace of King Locke directly opposite was the house of Honeybee a house or rather a cottage of one room all hung with white muslin the furniture of pine wood perfumed the room a glimpse of daylight penetrated through a crevice in the rock and on fine nights one could see the stars Honeybee had no special attendance for all the dwarf people were eager to serve her and to anticipate all her wishes except the single one to return to earth the most erudite dwarves familiar with the profoundest secrets were glad to teach her not from books for dwarves do not write but by showing her all the plants of mountains and plains all the diverse species of animals and all the varied gems that are extracted from the bosom of the earth and it was by means of such sights and marvels that they taught her with an innocent gaiety the wonders of nature and the processes of the arts they made her play things such as the richest children on earth never have for these dwarves were always industrious and invented wonderful machinery in this way they produced for her dolls that could move with exquisite grace and express themselves according to the strictest rules of poetry placed on the stage of a little theatre the scenery of which represented the shores of the sea the blue sky palaces and temples they would portray the most interesting events though no taller than a man's arm some of them represented respectable old men others men in the prime of life and others still beautiful young girls dressed in white among them also were mothers pressing their innocent children to their hearts and these eloquent dolls acted as if they were really moved by hate love and ambition they passed with the greatest skill from joy to sorrow and they imitated nature so well that they could move one to laughter or to tears honeybee clapped her hands at the sight she had a horror of the dolls who tried to be tyrants on the other hand she felt a boundless compassion for a doll who had once been a princess and who now a captive widow had no other resource alas by which to save her child than to marry the barbarian who had made her a widow honeybee never tired of this game which the dolls could vary indefinitely the dwarfs also gave concerts and taught her to play the lute the viola the theorbo the lyre and various other instruments in short she became an excellent musician and the dramas acted in the theatre by the dolls taught her a knowledge of men and life King Locke was always present at the plays and the concerts but he neither saw nor heard anything but honeybee little by little he had set his whole heart upon her in the meantime months passed and even years sped by and honeybee was still among the dwarfs always amused and yet always longing for earth she grew to be a beautiful girl her singular destiny had imparted something strange to her appearance which gave her however only an added charm Chapter 12 in which the treasures of King Locke are described as well as the writer is able six years to a day had passed since honeybee had come to live with the dwarfs King Locke called her into his palace and commanded his treasurer to displace a huge stone which seemed cemented into the wall but which in reality was only lightly placed there all three passed through the opening left by the great stone and found themselves in a fissure of rock too narrow for two persons to stand abreast King Locke proceeded the others along the dim path and honeybee followed him holding to a tip of the royal mantle they walked on for a long time and at intervals the sides of the rocks came so close together that the young girl was seized with terror lest she should be unable to advance or recede and so would die there before her along the dark and narrow road floated the mantle of King Locke at last King Locke came to a bronze door which he opened and out of which poured a blaze of light little King Locke said honeybee I had no idea that light could be so beautiful and King Locke taking her by the hand led her into the hall out of which the light shone see he cried honeybee dazzled could see nothing for this immense hull supported by high marble columns was a glitter of gold from floor to roof at the end on a days made of glittering gems set in gold and silver the steps of which were covered by a carpet of marvellous embroidery stood a throne of ivory and gold under a canopy of translucent enamel and on each side two palm trees three thousand years old in gigantic vases carved in some bygone time by the greatest artists among the dwarfs King Locke mounted his throne and commanded the young girl to stand at his right hand honeybee said King Locke these are my treasures choose all that will give you pleasure immense gold shields hung from the columns and reflected at the sunlight and sent it back in glittering rays swords and lances crossed had each a flame at their point tables along the walls were laden with tankards, flagons, oours, chalices, pixes, patterns, goblets gold cups, drinking horns of ivory with silver rings enormous bottles of rock crystal chased gold in silver dishes coffers, reliquaries in the form of churches sent boxes, mirrors, candelabra and torch holders equally beautiful in material and workmanship and incense burners in the shape of monsters and on one table stood a chess board with chessmen carved out of moonstones chose, King Locke repeated but lifting her eyes above these treasures honeybee saw the blue sky through an opening in the roof and as if she had comprehended that the light of day could alone give all these things their splendor she said simply little King Locke I want to return to earth whereupon King Locke made a sign to his treasurer who raising heavy tapestries disclosed an enormous ironbound coffer covered with plates of open ironwork this coffer being opened poured thousands of rays of different and lovely tints and each ray seemed to leap out of a precious stone most artistically cut King Locke dipped in his hands and there flowed in glittering confusion violet amethysts and virgins stones emeralds of three kinds one dark green another called the honey emerald because of its colour and the third a bluish green also called barrel which gives happy dreams oriental topazes rubies beautiful as the blood of heroes dark blue sapphires called the male sapphire and the pale blue ones called the female sapphire the symophane's hyacinths euclaces turquoise's opals whose light is softer than the dawn the aquamarine and the syrian garnet all these gems were of the purest and most luminous water and in the midst of these coloured fires great diamonds flashed their rays of dazzling white choose honeybee said King Locke but honeybee shook her head little King Locke she said I would rather have a single beam of sunlight that falls on the roof of Clarides than all these gems then King Locke ordered another coffer to be opened in which were only pearls but these pearls were round and pure their changing light reflected all the colours of sea and sky and their radiance was so tender that they seemed to express a thought of love except these said King Locke little King Locke Honeybee replied these pearls are like the clents of George of Blanchland I love these pearls but I love his eyes even more hearing these words King Locke turned his head away however he opened a third coffer and showed the young girl a crystal in which a drop of water had been imprisoned since the beginning of time and when the crystal was moved the drop of water could be seen to stir he also showed her pieces of yellow amber in which insects more brilliant than jewels had been imprisoned for thousands of years one could distinguish their delicate feet and their fine antenna and they would have resumed their flight had some power but shattered like glass their perfumed prison these are the great marvels of nature I give them to you Honeybee little King Locke Honeybee replied keep your amber and your crystal for I should not know how to give their freedom either to the fly or the drop of water King Locke watched her in silence for some time then he said Honeybee the most beautiful treasures will be safe in your keeping you will possess them and they will not possess you the miser as the prey of his gold only those who despise wealth can be rich without danger their souls will always be greater than their riches having uttered these words he made a sign to his treasurer who presented on a cushion a crown of gold to the young girl accept this jewel as a sign of our regard for you said King Locke henceforth you shall be called the princess of the dwarfs and he himself placed the crown on the head of Honeybee Chapter 13 in which King Locke declares himself the dwarfs celebrated the crowning of their first princess by joyous revels harmless and innocent games succeeded each other in the huge amphitheater and the little men with cockades of fern or two oak leaves fastened coquettishly to their hoods bounded gaily across the subterranean streets the rejoicings lasted thirty days during the universal excitement Pick looked like a mortal inspired Tad the kind-hearted was intoxicated by the universal joy Dig the tender gave expression to his delight in tears rug in his ecstasy again demanded that Honeybee should be put in a cage but this time so that the dwarfs need not be afraid to lose so charming a princess Bob mounted on his raven filled the air with such cries of rapture that the sable bird infected by the gaity gave vent to innumerable playful little croaks only King Locke was sad on the 30th day having given the princess and the dwarf people a festival of unparalleled magnificence he mounted his throne and so stood that his kind face just reached her ear my princess Honeybee he said I'm about to make a request which you are at liberty either to accept or to refuse Honeybee of Clareeds princess of the dwarfs will you be my wife as he spoke King Locke grave and tender had something of the gentle beauty of a majestic poodle little King Locke Honeybee replied as she pulled his beard I am willing to become your wife for fun but never your wife for good the moment you asked me to marry you I was reminded of Francois who when I was on earth used to amuse me by telling me the most ridiculous stories at these words King Locke turned his head away but not so soon but that Honeybee saw the tears in his eyes then Honeybee was grieved because she had pained him little King Locke she said to him I love you for the little King Locke you are and if you make me laugh as Francois did there is nothing in that to vex you for Francois sang well and he would have been very handsome if it had not been for his grey hair and his red nose Honeybee of Clareeds princess of the dwarfs the King replied I love you in the hope that some day you will love me and yet without that hope I should love you just the same the only return I ask for my friendship is that you will always be honest with me little King Locke I promise well then tell me truly Honeybee do you love someone else enough to marry him little King Locke I love no one enough for that whereupon King Locke smiled and seizing his golden cup he proposed with a resounding voice the health of the princess of the dwarfs an immense uproar rose from the depths of the earth for the banquet table reached from one end to the other of the empire of the dwarfs End of Section 4 Section 5 of Honeybee by Anatole France translated by Mrs. John Lane this LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by Kate Follis Chapter 14 in which we are told how Honeybee saw her mother again but could not embrace her Honeybee, a crown on her head was now more often sad and lost in thought than when her hair flowed loose over her shoulders and when she went laughing to the forge and pulled the beards of her good friends pick, tad, and dig whose faces red from the reflected flames gave her a gay welcome but now these good dwarfs who had once danced her on their knees and called her Honeybee bowed as she passed and maintained a respectful silence she grieved because she was no longer a child and she suffered because she was the princess of the dwarfs it was no longer a pleasure for her to see King Locke since she had seen him weep because of her but she loved him for he was good and unhappy one day if one may say that there are days in the empire of the dwarfs she took King Locke by the hand and drew him under the cleft in the rock through which a sunbeam shone along whose rays there danced a haze of golden dust little King Locke she said I suffer you are a king and you love me and I suffer hearing these words from the pretty damsel King Locke replied I love you Honeybee of Quareed's princess of the dwarfs and that is why I've held you captive in our world in order to teach you our secrets which are greater and more wonderful than all those you could learn on earth amongst men for men are less skillful and less learned than the dwarfs yes said Honeybee but they are more like me than the dwarfs and for that reason I love them better little King Locke let me see my mother again if you do not wish me to die without replying King Locke went away Honeybee desolate and alone watched the ray of light which bathes the whole face of nature and which enfolds all the living even to the beggars by the wayside in its resplendent waves slowly this ray paled and its golden radiance faded to a pale blue light night had come upon earth a star twinkled over the cleft in the rock then someone gently touched her on the shoulder and she saw King Locke wrapped in a black cloak he had another cloak on his arm with which he covered the young girl come said he and he led her out of the underworld when she saw again the trees stirred by the wind the clouds that floated across the moon the splendour of the night so fresh and blue when she breathed again the fragrance of the herbage and when the air she breathed in childhood again entered her breast in floods she gave a great sigh and thought to die of joy King Locke had taken her in his arms small though he was he carried her as lightly as a feather and they glided over the ground like the shadows of two birds you shall see your mother again, honey bee but listen you know that every night I send her your image every night she sees your dear phantom she smiles upon it she talks to it and she caresses it tonight she shall instead see you yourself you will see her but you must not touch her you must not speak to her or the charm will be broken and she will never again see you nor your image which she does not distinguish from you then I will be prudent alas little King Locke see? sure enough the watchtower of Clareeds rose black on the hill honey bee had hardly time to throw a kiss to the beloved old stone walls when the ram parts of the town of Clareeds overgrown with ghillie flowers already flew past already she was ascending the terrace where the glow worms glimmer in the grass to the poster in which King Locke easily opened for the dwarfs are masters of metals nor can Locke's padlocks, bolts, chains or bars ever stop them she climbed the winding stairs that led to her mother's room and she paused to clasp her beating heart with both her hands softly the door opened and by the light of a night lamp that hung from the ceiling she saw her mother in the holy silence that reigned her mother frailer and paler with hair gray at the temples but in the eyes of her daughter more beautiful even than in the past days as she remembered her writing fearlessly in magnificent attire as usual the mother beheld her daughter as in a dream and she opened her arms as if to caress her and the child laughing and sobbing was about to throw herself into those open arms but King Locke tore her away and like a wisp of straw he bore her through the blue landscape to the kingdom of the dwarfs Chapter 15 in which we shall see how King Locke suffered seated on the granite step of the underground palace Honeybee watched the blue sky through the cleft in the rock and saw the elder trees turn their spreading white parasols to the light she began to weep Honeybee said King Locke as he took her hand in his why do you weep and what is it you desire and as she had been grieving these many days the dwarfs at her feet tried to cheer her with simple airs on the flute the flageolet the re-back and the symbols and other dwarfs to amuse her turned such somersaults one after the other that they pricked the grass with the points of their hoods with their cockades of leaves and nothing could be more charming than to watch the capers of these tiny men with their venerable beards tad so kind and dig so wise who had loved her since the day they had found her asleep on the shore of the lake and pick the elderly poet gently took her arm and implored her to tell them the cause of her grief pal a simple just soul offered her a basket of grapes and all of them gently pulled the edge of her skirt and said with King Locke Honeybee princess of the dwarfs why do you weep little King Locke Honeybee replied and you little men my grief only increases your love because you are good you weep with me know that I weep when I think of George of Blanchland who should now be a cavalier but whom I shall never see again I love him and I wish to be his wife King Locke took his hand away from the hand he had pressed honeybee he said why did you deceive me when you told me at the banquet that you loved no one else little King Locke Honeybee replied I did not deceive you at the banquet at that time I had no desire to marry George of Blanchland but today it is my dearest wish that he should ask me to marry him but he will never ask me as I do not know where he is now nor does he know where I am and this is the reason I weep at these words the musicians ceased playing the acrobats interrupted their tumbling and stood immovable some on their heads and some on their haunches tad and dig shed silent tears on the sleeve of Honeybee Pow, simple soul dropped his basket of grapes and all the little men gave vent to the most fearful groans but King Locke more unhappy than all under his splendid jeweled crown silently withdrew his mantle trailing behind him like a purple torrent Chapter 16 in which an account is given of the learned Nur who was the cause of such extraordinary joy to King Locke King Locke did not permit the young girl to observe his weakness but when he was alone he sat on the ground and with his feet in his hands gave way to grief he was jealous she loves him he said to himself and she does not love me and yet I am a king and very wise great treasures are mine and I know the most marvellous secrets I am superior to all other dwarves who are in turn superior to all men she does not love me but she loves a young man who not only is not the learning of the dwarves but no other learning either it must be acknowledged that she does not appreciate merit nor has she much sense I ought to laugh at her want of judgment but I love her but I care for nothing in the world because she does not love me for many long days King Locke roamed alone through the most desolate mountain passes turning over in his mind thoughts both sad and sometimes wicked he even thought of trying by imprisonment and starvation to give force Honeybee to become his wife but rejecting this plan as soon as formed he decided to go in search of her and throw himself at her feet but he could come to no decision and at last he was quite at a loss what to do the truth being that whether Honeybee would love him did not depend on him suddenly his anger turned against George of Blanchland and he hoped that the young man had been carried far away by some enchanter and that at any rate should he ever hear of Honeybee's love he would disdain it without being old the King meditated I have already lived too long not to have suffered sometimes and yet my sufferings intense though they were were less painful than those of which I am conscious today with the tenderness and pity which caused them was mingled something of their own divine sweetness now on the contrary my grief has the baseness and bitterness of an evil desire my soul is desolate and the tears in my eyes are like an acid that burns them so thought King Locke and fearing that jealousy might make him unjust and wicked he avoided meeting the young girl for fear that in spite of himself he might use towards her the language of a man either weak or brutal one day when he was more than ever tormented by the thought that Honeybee loved George he decided to consult Nur the most learned of all the dwarfs who lived at the bottom of a well deep down in the bowels of the earth this well had the advantage of an even and soft temperature it was not dark for two little stars a pale sun and a red moon alternately illumined all parts King Locke descended into the well and found Nur in his laboratory Nur looked like a kind little old man and he wore a sprig of wild time in his hood in spite of his learning he had the innocence and candor characteristic of his race Nur said the King as he embraced him I have come to consult you because you know many things King Locke replied Nur I might know a good deal and yet be an idiot but I possess the knowledge of how to learn some of the innumerable things I do not know and that is the reason I am so justly famous for my learning Well then, said King Locke can you tell me the whereabouts at present of a young man by the name of George of Blanchland I do not know and I never cared to know replied Nur knowing as I do the ignorance, stupidity and wickedness of mankind I do not trouble myself as to what they say or do humanity King Locke would be entirely deplorable and ridiculous if it were not that something of value is given to this proud and miserable race and as much as the men are endowed with courage the women with beauty and the little children with innocence obliged by necessity as are also the dwarves to toil mankind has rebelled against this divine law and instead of being like ourselves willing and cheerful toilers they prefer war to work and they would rather kill each other than help each other but to be just one must admit that their shortness of life is the principal cause of their ignorance and cruelty their life is too short for them to learn how to live the race of the dwarves who dwell under the earth is happier and better if we are not immortal we shall at least last as long as the earth which bears us in her bosom and which permeates us with her intimate and fruitful warmth while for the races born on her rugged surface she has only the turbulent winds which sometimes scorch and sometimes freeze and whose breath is at once the bearer of death and of life and yet men owe to their overwhelming miseries and wickedness of virtue which makes the souls of some amongst them more beautiful than the souls of dwarves and this virtue, O King Locke which for the mind is what the soft radiance of pearls is for the eyes is pity it is taught by suffering and the dwarves know it but little because being wiser than men they escape much anguish yet sometimes the dwarves leave their deep grottoes and seek the pitiless surface of the earth to mingle with men so as to love them to suffer with them and through them and thus to feel this pity which refreshes the soul like a heavenly dew this is the truth concerning men King Locke but did you not ask me as to the exact fate of someone amongst them? King Locke having repeated his question Nürr looked into one of the many telescopes which filled the room for the dwarves have notebooks those which are found amongst them have come from men and are only used as playthings they do not learn as we do by consulting marks on paper but they look through telescopes and see the subject itself of their inquiry the only difficulty is to choose the right telescope and get the right focus there are telescopes of crystal, of topaz and of opal but those whose lens is a great polished diamond are more powerful and permit them to see the most distant objects the dwarves also have lenses of a translucent substance unknown to men these enable the sight to pass through rocks and walls as if they were glass others more remarkable still reconstruct as accurately as a mirror all that has vanished with the flight of time for the dwarves in the depths of their caverns have the power to recall from the infinite surface of the ether the light of immemorial days and the forms and colors of vanished times they can create for themselves a phantasm of the past by rearranging the splinters of light which were once shattered against the forms of men animals, plants and rocks so that they again flash across the centuries through the unfathomable ether the venerable nur excelled in discovering figures of antiquity and even such inconceivable though it may seem as lived before the earth had assumed the shape with which we are familiar so it was really no trouble at all for him to find George of Blanchland having looked for a moment through a very ordinary telescope indeed he said to King Locke King Locke, he for whom you search is with the Nixies in their Palace of Crystal from which none ever return and whose iridescent walls join your kingdom is he there? cried the King let him stay and he rubbed his hands I wish him joy and having embraced the venerable dwarf he emerged out of the well roaring with laughter the whole length of the road he held his sides so as to laugh at his ease his head shook and his beard swung backwards and forwards on his stomach how he laughed the little men who met him laughed out of sheer sympathy seeing them laugh made others laugh a contagion of laughter spread from place to place until the whole interior of the earth was shaken as if with a mighty and jovial hiccup Ha Ha Ha End of section 5