 CHAPTER XXIII KERDI AND HIS MOTHER KERDI went up the mountain, neither whistling nor singing, for he was vexed with Irene for taking him in, as he called it, and he was vexed with himself for having spoken to her so angrily. His mother gave a cry of joy when she saw him, and at once set about getting him something to eat, asking him questions all the time, which he did not answer so cheerfully as usual. When his meal was ready, she left him to eat it, and hurried to the mine to let his father know he was safe. When she came back, she found him fast asleep upon her bed, nor did he wake until his father came home in the evening. "'No, Curdie,' his mother said, as they sat at supper, "'till as the whole story from beginning to end, just as it all happened,' Curdie obeyed, and told everything to the point where they came out upon the lawn in the garden of the king's house. "'And what happened after that?' asked his mother. "'You haven't told us all. You ought to be very happy at having got away from those demons, and instead of that, I never saw you so gloomy. There must be something more. Besides, you do not speak of that lovely child as I should like to hear you. She saved your life at the risk of her own, and yet somehow you don't seem to think much of it.' "'She taught such nonsense,' answered Curdie, and told me a pack of things that weren't bit true, and I can't get over it.' "'What were they?' asked his father. "'Your mother may be able to throw some light upon them.' They all sat silent for some time, pondering the strange tale. At last, Curdie's mother spoke. "'You confess, my boy,' she said. "'That there's something about the whole affair he did not understand.' "'Yes, of course, mother,' he answered. "'I cannot understand how a child, knowing nothing about the mountain or even that I was shut up in it, should come all that way alone straight to where I was, and then, after getting me out of the hole, lead me out of the mountain, too, where I should not have known a step of the way if it had been as light as in the open air. "'Then you have no right to say what she told you was not true. She did take it out, and she must have had something to guide her, kinder to thread as well as a rope or anything else. No, something you cannot explain, and her explanation may be the right one. "'It's no explanation at all, mother, and I can't believe it. I may be only because you do not understand it. If you did, you would probably find it was an explanation, and believe it utterly. Oh, blame me if I'm not being able to believe it, but I do blame you for fancying such a child would try to deceive you. Why should she? Depend upon it,' she told you all she knew. "'Then till you'd found a better way of accounting for it all, you might at least have been more spearing of your judgment.' "'That's what something inside me's been saying all the time,' said Curdie, hanging down his head. "'But what do you make of the grandmother? That's what I can't get over. To take me up to an old garret and try to persuade me against the sight of my own eyes that it was a beautiful room with blue walls and silver stars and no end of things in it. When there was nothing there but an old tub and a withered apple and a heap of straw and a sun-beam, it was too bad. She might have had some old woman there at least to pass for her precious grandmother. "'Yes, that's what bothers me. You would have thought that she really meant it and believed that she saw every one of the things she talked about. Not one of them there. It was too bad, I say. "'Perhaps some people can see things other people can't, Curdie,' said his mother, very gravely. "'I think I will tell you something I saw myself once. Only perhaps you won't believe me either.' "'Oh, mother, mother,' cried Curdie, bursting into tears, "'I don't deserve that, surely. But what I'm going to tell you is very strange,' persisted his mother. "'And if having heard it, you were to say I must have been dreaming. I don't know that I should have any right to be vexed with you, though I know at least that I was not asleep. "'Do tell me, mother. Perhaps it will help me to think better of the princess.' "'That's why I'm tempted to tell you,' replied his mother. "'But first, I may as well mention that, according to all whispers, there's something more than common about the king's family. And the queen was of the same blood, for they were cousins of some degree. There were strange stories told concerning them, all good stories, but strange, very strange. What they were, I cannot tell, for I only remember the faces of my grandmother and my mother as they talk together about them. It was wonder and awe, not fear, in their eyes, and they whispered and never spoke aloud. "'But what I saw myself was this. Your father was going to work in the mine one night, and I had been down with his supper. It was soon after we were married and not very long before you were born. He came with me to the mouth of the mine, and left me to go home alone, for I knew the way, almost as well as the floor of our own cottage. It was pretty dark, and in some parts of the road where the rocks overhung nearly quite dark. But I got along perfectly well, never thinking of being afraid, until I reached a spot you know well enough, Cardi, where the path has to make a sharp turn off to the way of a great rock on the right-hand side. But when I got there, I was suddenly surrounded by about half a dozen of the cobs, the first I had ever seen, but heard tell of them often enough. One of them blocked up the path, and they all began tormenting me and teasing me in a way that he makes me shudder to think of, even now, if I had only been with you,' cried father and son in the breath. The mother gave a funny little smile and went on. "'They had some of their horrible creatures with them too, and now must confess I was dreadfully frightened. They had torn my clothes very much, and I was afraid they were going to tear myself to pieces. When suddenly a great white soft light shone upon me, I looked up. A broad rain like a shining road came down from a large globe of silvery light, not very high up. Indeed, not quite so high as the horizon. So it could not have been a new star or another moon or anything of that sort. The cobs dropped persecuting me and looked dazed, and I thought they were going to run away. But presently they began again. The same moment, however, down the path from the globe of light came a bird, shining like silver in the sun. He gave a few rapid flaps first, then with its wings straight out, shots sliding down the slope of light. It looked to me just like a white pigeon. But whatever it was, when the cobs caught sight of it coming straight down upon them, they took to the hills and scumpered away across the mountain, leaving me safe, only much frightened. As soon as it had sent them off, the bird went gliding up against the light, and the moment it reached the globe the light disappeared, just as if a shutter had been closed over a window, and I saw it no more. But I had no more trouble with the cobs that night or ever after. How strange! exclaimed Curdie. Yes, it was strange, but can't help believing it, whether you do or not, said his mother. It's exactly as your mother told it to me the very next morning, said his father. You don't think I'm doting my own mother, cried Curdie. There are other people in the world quite as well worth believing as your own mother, said his mother. I don't know that she's so much the fitter to be believed that she happens to be your mother, Mr. Curdie. There are mothers far more likely to tell lies than the little girl I saw talking to the primroses a few weeks ago. If she were to lie, I should begin to doubt my own word. But princesses have told lies as well as other people, said Curdie. Yes, but not princesses like that, child. She's a good girl, I'm certain, and that's more than being a princess. Depend upon it, you'll have to be sorry for behaving so to her, Curdie. You ought at least to have held your tongue. I'm sorry now, answered Curdie. You ought to go and tell her so then. I don't see how I could manage that. I wouldn't let a minor boy like me have a word with her alone, and I couldn't tell her before that nurse of hers. She'd be asking ever so many questions, and I don't know how many the little princess would like me to answer. She told me that Louty didn't know anything about her coming to get me out of the mountain. I'm certain she would have prevented her somehow if she had known it. But I may have a chance before long, and, meantime, I must try to do something for her. I think, Father, I've got on the track at last. Have you indeed, my boy? Said Peter. I'm sure you deserve some success. You've worked very hard for it. What have you found out? It's difficult, you know, Father, inside the mountain, especially in the dark, and not knowing what turns you've taken to tell the lie of things outside. Impossible, my boy, without a shot or at least a compass. Returned his father. Well, I think I've nearly discovered in what direction the cobs are mining. If I'm right, I know something else that I can put to it, and then one on one will make three. Very often do, cardeers, we minors ought to be very well aware. No, tell us, my boy, what are the two things are, and whether we can guess at the same third as you? I don't see what that has to do with the princess. Interposed his mother. I'll soon let you see that, mother. Perhaps you may think we foolish, but until I'm sure there's nothing in my present fancy, I'm more determined than ever to go on with my observations. Just as we came to the channel by which we got out, I heard the miners at work somewhere near. Well, I think down below us. Now, since I've begun to watch them, they've mined a good half-mile in a straight line, and so far as I'm aware, they're working in no other part of the mountain. But I can never tell in what direction they were going. When we came out in the king's garden, however, I thought at once whether it was possible they were working towards the king's house, and what I want to do tonight is to make sure whether they are or not. Now take a light with me. Oh, Curdie! cried his mother. Then they will see you. Well, I'm no more afraid of them now than I was before. Rejoined Curdie, noted I've got this precious shoe. They can't make another such anari, and one barefoot will do for my purpose. Woman as she may be, I won't spare her next time. But I shall be careful with my light, for I don't want them to see me. I won't stick it in my heart. Go on then, and tell us what you mean to do. I mean to take a bit of paper with me, and a pencil, and go in at the mouth of the stream by which we came out. I shall mark on the paper as near as I can the angle of every turning I take until I find the cobs at work, and so get a good idea in what direction they're going. If it should prove to be nearly parallel with the stream, I shall know it's towards the king's house they're working. And what if here should? How much wiser will you be then? Wait a minute, mother dear. I told you that when I came upon the royal family in the cave, they were talking of their prince. Here, libt, they called him. Marrying a son-woman, that means one of us, one with toes to her feet. Now, in the speech one of them made that night at their grand gathering, of which I'll heard only a part, he said that peace would be secured for a generation at least, by the pledge the prince would hold for the good behaviour of her relatives. That's what he said, and he must have meant the son-woman the prince was to marry. Quite sure the king is much too proud to wish his son to marry any better princess, and much too knowing to fancy that he's having a peasant-woman for a wife would be of any great advantage to them. Ah, see what you're deriving at now, said his mother. But, said his father, all king would dig the mountain to the plain before he would have his princess the wife of a gob, if you were ten times a prince. Yes, but they think so much of themselves, said his mother. Small creatures always do. The bantam is the proudest cock in my little yard. And a fancy, said Curdie, that if once they got her, they would tell the king they would kill her, except he consented to their marriage. They might say so, said his father. But they wouldn't kill her. They would keep her alive for the sake of the whole it gave them over all king. Whatever he did to them, they would threaten to do the same to the princess. And they're bad enough to torment her for just for their own amusement. I know that, said his mother. Anyway, I'll keep a watch on them, and see what they're up to, said Curdie. It's too horrible to think of, but don't let myself do it. But they shan't have her, at least if I can help it. So, mother dear, my clue's all right. Will you get me a bit of paper and a pencil and a lump of peas pudding, and I'll set out at once? I saw a place where I can climb over the wall of the garden quite easily. You must mind and keep out of the way of the men on the watch, said his mother. That I will. I don't want them to know anything about it. They would spoil it all. The cobs would only try their mother-plan. They're such obstinate creatures. I shall take good care, mother. They won't kill and eat me either, if they should come upon me, so you needn't mind them. His mother got him what he had asked for, and Curdie set out. Close beside the door by which the Princess left the garden for the mountain, stood a great rock, and by climbing it, Curdie got over the wall. He tied his clue to a stone just inside the channel of the stream, and took his pickaxe with him. He had not gone far before he encountered a horrid creature coming towards the mouth. The spot was too narrow for two of almost any size or shape, and beside Curdie had no wish to let the creature pass. Not being able to use his pickaxe, however, he had a severe struggle with him, and it was only after receiving many bites, so on, them bad, that he succeeded in killing him with his pocket-knife. Having dragged him out, he made haste to get in again, before another should stop up the way. I need not follow him farther in this night's adventures. He returned to his breakfast, satisfied that the goblins were mining in the direction of the palace, on so lower level that their intention must, he thought, be to burrow under the walls of the king's house and rise up inside it, in order, he fully believed, to lay hands on the little princess, and carry her off for a wife to their horrid hair-lip. Reading by Andy Minter The Princess and the Goblin by George MacDonald Chapter 24 Irene behaves like a princess When the princess awoke from the sweetest of sleeps, she found her nurse bending over her, the housekeeper looking over the nurse's shoulder, and the laundrymaid looking over the housekeepers. The room was full of women servants, and the gentleman at arms, with a long column of servants behind them, were peeping, or trying to peep in at the door of the nursery. Are those horrid creatures gone? asked the princess, remembering first what had terrified her in the morning. You naughty, naughty little princess! cried Lutie. Her face was very pale with red streaks in it, and she looked as if she were going to shake her. But Irene said nothing, only waited to hear what should come next. How could you get under the clothes like that, and make us all fancy you were lost? And keep it up all day too. You are the most obstinate child. It's anything but fun to us, I can tell you. It was the only way the nurse could have count for her disappearance. I didn't do that, Lutie, said Irene very quietly. Don't tell stories, cried her nurse, quite rudely. I shall tell you nothing at all, said Irene. That's just as bad, said the nurse. Just as bad to say nothing at all as to tell stories, explained the princess, I will ask my papa about that. He won't say so, and I don't think he will like you to say so. Tell me directly what you mean by it, screamed the nurse, half-wild with anger at the princess, and fright at the possible consequences to herself. When I tell you the truth, Lutie, said the princess, who somehow did not feel at all angry, you say to me, don't tell stories. It seems I must tell stories before you will believe me. You are very rude, princess, said the nurse. You are so rude, Lutie, that I will not speak to you again until you are sorry. Why should I when I know you will not believe me? returned the princess. For she did know perfectly well that if she were to tell Lutie what she had been about, the more she went on to tell her, the less would she believe her. You are the most provoking child, cried her nurse. You deserve to be well punished for your wicked behaviour. Please, Mrs. Housekeeper, said the princess, will you take me to your room and keep me till my king papa comes? I will ask him to come as soon as he can. Everyone stared at these words. Up to this moment they had all regarded her as little more than a baby. But the housekeeper was afraid of the nurse, and sought to patch matters up, saying, I am sure, princess, the nurse did not mean to be rude to you. I do not think my papa would wish me to have a nurse who spoke to me as Lutie does. If she thinks I tell lies, she had better either say so to my papa or go away. So, Walter, will you take charge of me? With the greatest of pleasure, princess, answered the captain of the gentlemen at arms, walking with his great stride into the room. The crowd of servants made eager way for him, and he bowed low before the little princess's bed. I shall send my servant at once, on the fastest horse in the stable, to tell your king papa that your royal highness deserves his presence. When you have chosen one of these under-servants to wait upon you, I shall order the room to be cleared. Thank you very much, Sir Walter, said the princess, and her eye glanced towards a rosy-cheeked girl who had lately come to the house as a scullery maid. But when Lutie saw the eyes of her dear princess going in search of another instead of her, she fell upon her knees by the bedside and burst into a great cry of distress. I think, Sir Walter, said the princess, I will keep Lutie, but I put myself under your care, and you need not trouble my king papa until I speak to you again. Will you all please go away? I am quite safe and well, and I did not hide myself for the sake either of amusing myself, or of troubling my people. Lutie, will you please to dress me? Chapter 25 Curdie Comes to Grief Everything was for some time quiet above ground. King was still away in a distant part of his dominions. The men at arms kept watching about the house. They had been considerably astonished by finding at the foot of the rock in the garden the hideous body of the goblin creature killed by Curdie, but they came to the conclusion that it had been slain in the mines, and had crept out there to die. And except an occasional glimpse of a live one, they saw nothing to cause alarm. Curdie kept watching in the mountain, and the goblins kept burrowing deeper into the earth. As long as they went deeper there was Curdie judged no immediate danger. To Irene the summer was as full of pleasure as ever, and for a long time, although she often thought of her grandmother during the day, and often dreamt about her at night, she did not see her. The kids and the flowers were as much her delight as ever, and she made as much friendship with the minus children she met on the mountain as Lutie would permit. But Lutie had very foolish notions concerning the dignity of a princess, not understanding that the truest princess is just the one who loves all her brothers and sisters best, and who is most able to do them good by being humble towards them. At the same time she was considerably altered for the better in her behavior to the princess. She could not help seeing that she was no longer a mere child, but wiser than her age would account for. She kept foolishly whispering to the servants, however, sometimes that the princess was not right in her mind, sometimes that she was too good to live, and other nonsense of the same sort. All this time Curdie had to be sorry, without a chance of confessing that he had behaved so unkindly to the princess. This perhaps made him the more diligent in his endeavours to serve her. His mother and he often talked on the subject, and she comforted him, and told him she was sure he would someday have the opportunity he so much desired. Here I should like to remark, for the sake of princes and princesses in general, that it is a low and contemptible thing to refuse to confess a fault, or even an error. If a true princess has done wrong, she is always uneasy until she has had an opportunity of throwing the wrongness away from her, by saying, I did it, and I wish I had not, and I am sorry for having done it. So you see, there is some ground for supposing that Curdie was not a minor only, but a prince as well. Many such instances have been known in the world's history. At length, however, he began to see signs of a change in the proceedings of the goblin excavators. They were going no deeper, but had commenced running on a level, and he watched them, therefore, more closely than ever. All at once, one night, coming to the slope of very hard rock, they began to ascend along the inclined plain of its surface. Having reached its top, they went on again on a level for a night or two, after which they began to ascend once more, and kept on at a pretty steep angle. At length, Curdie judged it time to transfer his observation to another quarter, and the next night he did not go to the mine at all, but leaving his pickaxe and clue at home, and taking only his usual lumps of bread and peas pudding, went down the mountain to the king's house. He climbed over the wall, and remained in the garden the whole night, creeping on hands and knees from one spot to the other, and lying at full length with his ear to the ground, listening. But he heard nothing, except the tread of the men-at-arms as they marched about, whose observation, as the night was cloudy and there was no moon, he had little difficulty in avoiding. For several following nights, he continued to haunt the garden and listen, but with no success. At length, early one evening, whether it was that he had got careless of his own safety, or that the growing moon had become strong enough to expose him, his watching came to a sudden end, he was creeping from behind the rock where the stream ran out, for he had been listening all round it, in the hope that it might convey to his ear some indication of the whereabouts of the goblin miners. When just as he came into the moonlight on the lawn, a whiz in his ear and a blow upon his leg startled him. He instantly squatted in the hope of eluding further notice, but when he heard the sound of running feet, he jumped up to take the chance of escape by flight. He fell, however, with a keen chute of pain, for the bolt of a crossbow had wounded his leg, and the blood was now streaming from it. He was instantly laid hold of by two or three of the men at arms. It was useless to struggle, and he submitted in silence. He said, boy! cried several of them together, in a tone of amazement, or thought it was one of those daemons. Are you about here? Going to have a bit of rough usage, apparently, said Curdie, laughing, as the men shook him. In pertinence, we do you no good, you have no business here in the King's Grants, and if you don't give a true account of yourself, you shall fear as a thief. Well, what else could he be? said one. He might have been after a lost kid, you know, suggested another. I see no good in trying to excuse him. He has no business here, anyhow. Let me go away, then, if you please, said Curdie. But we don't, please. Not except you can give a good account of yourself. I don't feel quite sure whether I can trust you, said Curdie. We are the King's own men-at-arms, said the Captain courteously, for he was taken with Curdie's appearance and courage. Well, I will tell you about it, if you promise to listen to me and not do anything rash. Go all that cool, said one of the party, laughing. He'll tell us what mischief he was about, if we promise to do as he pleases him. I was about no mischief, said Curdie. But there he could say more he turned feint and fell, senseless on the grass. Then first they discovered that the bolt they had shot, taking him for one of the goblin creatures, had wounded him. They carried him into the house and laid him down in the hall. The report spread that they had caught a robber, and the servants crowded in to see the villain. Amongst the rest came the nurse. The moment she saw him she exclaimed with indignation, and declared it's the same rascal of a minor that was rude to me and the Princess on the mountain. He actually wanted to kiss the Princess. I took care of that, the wretch. And he was prowling about, was he, just like his impudence. The Princess being fast asleep, she could misrepresent at her pleasure. When he heard this, the Captain, although he had considerable doubt of its truth, resolved to keep Curdie a prisoner until they could search into the affair. So after they had brought him round a little and attended to his wound, which was rather a bad one, they laid him still exhausted from the loss of blood upon a mattress in a disused room, one of those so often mentioned, and locked the door and left him. He passed a troubled night, and in the morning they found him talking wildly. In the evening he came to himself, but felt very weak, and his leg was exceedingly painful. Wondering where he was, and seeing one of the men at arms in the room, he began to question him, and soon recalled the events of the preceding night. As he was himself unable to watch any more, he told the soldier all he knew about the goblins, and begged him to tell his companions, and stir them up to watch with tenfold vigilance. But whether it was that he did not talk quite coherently, the whole thing appeared incredible. Certainly the man concluded that Curdie was only raving still, and tried to coax him into holding his tongue. This, of course, annoyed Curdie dreadfully, who now felt in his turn what it was not to be relieved, and the consequence was that his fever returned, and by the time when, at his persistent entreaties, the captain was called, there could be no doubt he was raving. They did for him what they could, and promised everything he wanted, but with no intention of fulfilment. At last he went to sleep, and when at length his sleep grew profound and peaceful, they left him, locked the door again, and withdrew, intending to revisit him early in the morning. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Reading by Andy Minter The Princess and the Goblin by George MacDonald Chapter 26 The Goblin Miners The same night several of the servants were having a chat together before going to bed. What could that noise be? said one of the housemaids, who had been listening for a moment or two. I've erred it the last two nights, said the cook. If there were any about the place, I should have taken it for rats, but sir, my tome keeps them far enough. Oh, word, though, said the scullery maid, that rats move about in great company sometimes. There may be an army of them invading us. I've heard the noises yesterday and today, too. Said the cook, they'll be friends for once in their lives, and fight on the same side. The early gauge of tome and the bobber together will put fright to any number of rats. He seemed to me, said the nurse, that the noises are much too loud for that. I heard them all day, and my princesses asked me several times what they could be. Sometimes they sound like distant thunder, sometimes like the noises you hear in the mountain from those horrid miners underneath. I shouldn't wonder, said the cook, if it was the miners after all. They may have come on some wool in the mountain through which the noises reached to us. They are always boring at the blasting and the breaking, you know. As he spoke, there came a great rolling rumble beneath them, and the house quivered. They all started up in a fright, and rushing to the hall found the gentlemen at arms in consternation also. They had sent to wake their captain, who said from the description that it must have been an earthquake, and occurrence which, although very rare in that country, had taken place almost within the century. And then they went to bed again, strange to say, and fell fast asleep without once thinking of Curdie, or associating the noises they had heard with what he had told them. He had not believed Curdie. If he had, he would at once have thought of what he had said, and would have taken precautions. As they heard nothing more, they concluded that Sir Walter was right, and that the danger was over for perhaps another hundred years. The fact, as discovered afterwards, was that the goblins had, in working up a second sloping face of stone, arrived at a huge block which lay under the cellars of the house, within the line of the foundations. It was so round that, when they succeeded after hard work in dislodging it without blasting, it rolled, thundering down the slope, with a bounding, jarring roll, which shook the foundations of the house. The goblins were themselves dismayed at the noise, for they knew by careful spying and measuring that they must now be very near, if not under the king's house, and they feared giving an alarm. They therefore remained quiet for a while, and when they had begun to work again, they no doubt thought themselves very fortunate in coming upon a vein of sand, which filled a winding fissure in the rock on which the house was built. By scooping this away, they came out in the king's wine cellar. No sooner did they find where they were than they scurried back again like rats into their holes, and running at full speed to the goblin palace announced their success to the king and queen with shouts of triumph. In a moment the goblin royal family and the whole goblin people were on their way in hot haste up to the king's house, each eager to have a share in the glory of carrying off that same night the Princess Irene. The queen went stumping along in one shoe of stone and one of skin. This could not have been pleasant, and my readers may wonder that with such skillful workmen about her, she had not yet replaced the shoe carried off by Curdie. As the king, however, had more than one ground of objection to her stone shoes, he no doubt took advantage of the discovery of her toes and threatened to expose her deformity if she had another maid. I presume he insisted on her being content with skin shoes, and allowed her to wear the remaining granite one on the present occasion, only because she was going out to war. They soon arrived in the king's wine cellar, and regardless of its huge vessels, of which they did not know the use, proceeded at once, but as quietly as they could to force the door that led upwards. End of Chapter 26 Chapter 27 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 27 The Goblins in the King's House When Curdie fell asleep, he began at once to dream. He thought he was ascending the mountainside from the mouth of the mine, whistling and singing, ring-dod-bang, when he came upon a woman and child who had lost their way. And from that point he went on dreaming everything that had happened to him, since he thus met the Princess and Lutie, how he had watched the goblins, how he had been taken by them, how he had been rescued by the Princess, everything indeed, until he was wounded, captured, and imprisoned by the men at arms. And now he thought he was lying wide awake where they had laid him, when suddenly he heard a great thundering sound. The cobs are coming, he said. They didn't believe a word I told them. The cobs will be carrying off the Princess from under their stupid noses. But they shan't, that they shan't. He jumped up as he thought and began to dress. But his dismay found that he was still lying in bed. No, then I will. He said, he'll go, I'm up now. But yet again he found himself snug in bed. Twenty times he tried, and twenty times he failed. For in fact he was not awake, only dreaming that he was. At length, in an agony of despair, fancying he heard the goblins all over the house, he gave a great cry. Then there came, as he thought, a hand upon the lock of his door. It opened, and looking up he saw a lady with white hair, carrying a silver box in her hand, into the room. She came to his bed, he thought, and stroked his head and face with cool, soft hands, took the dressing from his leg, rubbed it with something that smelt like roses, and then waved her hands over him three times. At the last wave of her hands everything vanished. He felt himself sinking into the profoundest slumber, and remembered nothing more until he woke in earnest. The setting moon was throwing a feeble light through the casement, and the house was full of uproar. There were soft, heavy, multitudinous stamping, a clashing and clanging of weapons, the voices of men, and the cries of women, mixed with a hideous bellowing, which sounded victorious. The cobs were in the house. He sprang from his bed, hurried on some of his clothes, not forgetting his shoes, which were armed with nails. Then, spying an old hunting-knife, or short sword, hanging on the wall, he caught it, and rushed down the stairs, guided by the sounds of strife, which grew louder and louder. When he reached the ground floor, he found the whole place, swarming. All the goblins of the mountain seemed gathered there. He rushed amongst them, shouting, One, two, hit and hew, three, four, blast and bore! And with every rhyme he came down a great stamp upon a foot, cutting at the same time their faces, executing, indeed, a sword-dance of the wildest description. Away scattered the goblins in every direction, into closets, upstairs, into chimneys, up on rafters, and down to the cellars. Curdie went on stamping and slashing and singing, but saw nothing of the people of the house, until he came to the great hall, in which, the moment he entered it, arose a great goblin shout. The last of the men at arms, the captain himself was on the floor, buried beneath a wallowing crowd of goblins. For while each night was busy defending himself as well he could, by stabs in the thick bodies of the goblins, for he had soon found their heads all but invulnerable, the queen had attacked his legs and feet with her horrible granite shoe, and he was soon down. But the captain had got his back to the wall and stood out longer. The goblins would have torn them all to pieces, but the king had given orders to carry them away alive, and over each of them, in twelve groups, was standing a knot of goblins, while as many as could find room were sitting upon their prostrate bodies. Curdie burst in dancing and gyrating and stamping, and singing like a small, incarnate whirlwind. We're at his all a hold, sir, never can be holds. Why should their shoes have soles, sir, when they've got no soles? But she upon her foot, sir, has a granite shoe, the strongest leather boot, sir, six would soon be through. The queen gave a howl of rage and dismay, and before she recovered her presence of mind, Curdie, having begun with the group nearest him, had eleven of the knights on their legs again. Stamp on that a feat! he cried, as each man rose, and in a few minutes the hall was nearly empty, the goblins running from it as fast as they could, howling and shrieking and limping, and cowering every now and then as they ran to cuddle their wounded feet in their hard hands, or to protect them from the frightful stamp, stamp of the armed men. And now Curdie approached the group, which, entrusting in the queen and her shoe, kept their guard over the prostrate captain. The king sat upon the captain's head, but the queen stood in front like an infuriated cat, with her perpendicular eyes gleaming green, and her hair standing half up from her horrid head. Her heart was quaking, however, and she kept moving about her skin-shod foot with nervous apprehension. When Curdie was within a few paces she rushed at him, made one tremendous stamp at his opposing foot, which happily he withdrew in time, and caught him round the waist to dash him on the marble floor. But just as she caught him, he came down with all the weight of his iron-shod shoe upon her skin-shod foot, and with a hideous howl she dropped him, squatted on the floor, and took her foot in both her hands. Meanwhile the rest rushed on the king and the bodyguard, sent them flying, and lifted the prostrate captain, who was all but pressed to death. It was some moments before he recovered breath and consciousness. Where's the princess? cried Curdie again and again. No one knew, and off they all rushed in search of her. Through every room in the house they went, but nowhere was she to be found. Neither was one of the servants to be seen, but Curdie, who had kept to the lower part of the house, which was now quiet enough, began to hear a confused sound as of a distant hubbub, and set out to find out where it came from. The noise grew as his sharp ears guided him to a stair, and so to the wine-seller. It was full of goblins, whom the butler was supplying with wine as fast as he could draw it. While the queen and her party had encountered the men-at-arms, Hairlip, with another company, had gone off to search the house. They captured every one they met, and when they could find no more they hurried away to carry them safe to the caverns below. But when the butler, who was amongst them, found that their path lay through the wine-seller, he bethought himself for persuading them to taste the wine, and as he had hoped, they no sooner tasted than they wanted more. The routed goblins on their way below joined them, and when Curdie entered, they were all without stretched hands, in which were vessels of every description, from saucepan to silver cup, pressing round the butler, who sat at the top of a huge cask, filling and filling. Curdie cast one glance around the place, before commencing his attack, and saw in the farthest corner a terrified group of the domestics, unwatched, but cowering without the courage to attempt their escape. Among them was the terror-stricken face of Lutie, but nowhere could he see the princess. Seized with the horrible conviction that Hairlip had already carried her off, he rushed amongst them, unable for Roth to sing any more, but stamping and cutting with greater fury than ever. Stamp on their feet! stamp on their feet! he shouted, and in a moment the goblins were disappearing through the hold and the floor like rats and mice. They could not vanish so fast, however, but that many more goblin feet had to go limping back over the underground ways of the mountain that morning. Presently, however, they were reinforced from above by the king and his party, with the redoubtable queen at their head, finding Curdie again busy among her unfortunate subjects. She rushed at him once more with the rage of despair, and this time gave him a bad bruise on the foot. Then a regular stamping fight got up between them. Curdie, with the point of his hunting-knife, keeping her from clasping her mighty arms about him, as he watched his opportunity of getting once more a good stamp at her skin-shod foot. But the queen was more wary, as well as more agile than hitherto. The rest, meantime, finding their adversary thus matched for the moment, paused in their headlong hurry, and turned to the shivering group of women in the corner. As if determined to emulate his father, and have a son-woman of some sort to share his future throne, hair-lip rushed at them, caught up looty and sped with her to the hole. She gave a great shriek, and Curdie heard her, and saw the plight she was in. Gathering all his strength, he gave the queen a sudden cut across the face with his weapon, came down as she started back with all his weight on the proper foot, and sprung to loot his rescue. The prince had two defenceless feet, and on both of them Curdie stamped just as he reached the hole. He dropped his burden and rolled shrieking into the earth. Curdie made one stab at him as he disappeared, caught hold of the senseless duty, and having dragged her back to the corner, there mounted guard over her, preparing once more to encounter the queen. Her face, streaming with blood, and her eyes flashing green lightning through it, she came on with her mouth open, and her teeth grinning like a tiger's, followed by the king and her bodyguard of the thickest goblins. At the same moment, in rushed the captain and his men, and ran at them, stamping furiously. They dared not encounter such an onset, a way they scurried the queen foremost. Of course, the right thing would have been to take the king and queen prisoners and hold the hostages for the princess, but they were so anxious to find her that no one thought of detaining them until it was too late. Having thus rescued the servants, they set about searching the house once more. None of them could give the least information concerning the princess. Lootie was almost silly with terror, and although scarcely able to walk, would not leave Curdie's side for a single moment. Again he allowed the others to search the rest of the house, where, except a dismayed goblin lurking here and there, they found no one, while he requested Lootie to take him to the princess's room. She was as submissive and obedient as if he had been the king. He found the bedclothes tossed about, and most of them on the floor, while the princess's garments were scattered all over the room, which was in the greatest confusion. It was only too evident that the goblins had been there, and Curdie had no longer any doubt that she had been carried off at the very first of the in-road. With a pang of despair he saw how wrong they had been in not securing the king and queen and prince, but he determined to find and rescue the princess as she had found and rescued him, or meet the worst fate to which the goblins could doom him. End of Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight 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 Twenty-Eight, Curdie's Guide Just as the consolation of this resolve dawned upon his mind, and he was turning away for the seller to follow the goblins into their hole, something touched his hand. It was the slightest touch, and when he looked he could see nothing. Feeling and peering about in the gray of the dawn, his fingers came upon a tight thread. He looked again and narrowly, but still could see nothing. It flashed upon him that this must be the princess's thread. Without saying a word, for he knew no one would believe him, any more than he had believed the princess. He followed the thread with his finger, contrived to give Lootie the slip, and was soon out of the house and on the mountain side. Surprised that if the thread were indeed the grandmother's messenger, it should have led the princess, as he suppose it must, into the mountain, where she would be certain to meet the goblins rushing back in rage from their defeat. But he hurried on, in the hope of overtaking her first. When he arrived, however, at the place where the path turned off for the mine, he found that the thread did not turn with it, but went straight up the mountain. Could it be that the thread was leading him home to his mother's cottage? Could the princess be there? He bounded up the mountain, like one of its own goats. And before the sun was up, the thread had brought him indeed to his mother's door. There it vanished from his fingers, and he could not find it, search as he might. The door was on the latch, and he entered. There sat his mother by the fire, and in her arms lay the princess, fast asleep. Hush, Curdie! said his mother. Do not wake her! I am so glad you've come. I thought the cobs must have got you again. With a heart full of delight, Curdie sat down at a corner of the hearth, on a stool opposite his mother's chair, and gazed at the princess, who slept as peacefully as if she had been in her own bed. All at once she opened her eyes and fixed them on him. Oh, Curdie, you've come! she said quietly. I thought you would. Curdie rose and stood before her with downcast eyes. Arrini, he said, I'm very sorry I did not believe you. Oh, never mind, Curdie, answered the princess. You couldn't, you know. You do believe me now, don't you? I can't help it now. I ought to have helped it before. Why can't you help it now? Because, just as I was going into the mountain to look for you, I got hold of your thread, and he brought me here. Then you've come from my house, have you? Yes, I have. I didn't know you were there. I've been there two or three days, I believe, and I never knew it. Then perhaps you can tell me why my grandmother has brought me here. I can't think. Something woke me. I don't know what, but I was frightened, and I felt for the thread, and there it was. I was more frightened still when it brought me out on the mountain, for I thought it was going to take me into it again, and I liked the outside of it best. I supposed you were in trouble again, and I had to get you out. But it brought me here instead, and, oh, Curdie, your mother has been so kind to me, just like my own grandmother. Here Curdie's mother gave the princess a hug, and the princess turned and gave her a sweet smile and held up her mouth to kiss her. Then you didn't see the cobs, asked Curdie. No, I haven't been into the mountain, I told you, Curdie. But the cobs have been into your house, all over it, and into your bedroom, making such a row. What did they want there? It was very rude of them. They wanted you to carry you off into the mountain with them for a wife to their prince hair-lip. Oh, how dreadful, cried the princess, shattering. But you needn't be afraid, you know. Your grandmother takes care of you. Ah, you do believe in my grandmother then. I am so glad she made me think you would, someday. All at once Curdie remembered his dream and was silent, thinking. But how did you come to be in my house and me not know it? asked the princess. Then Curdie had to explain everything. How he had watched for her sake, how he had been wounded and shut up by the soldiers, how he heard the noises and could not rise, and how the beautiful old lady had come to him, and all that followed. Poor Curdie, to lie there hurt and ill and me never to know it, exclaimed the princess, stroking his rough hand. I would have come and nursed you if they had told me. It didn't see you on a lane, said his mother. Am I mother? Yes, I suppose I ought to be. It declared I've never thought of it since I got up to Goudone among the cobs. Let me see the wound, said his mother. He pulled down his stocking, when behold, except a great scar, his leg was perfectly sound. Curdie and his mother gazed in each other's eyes, full of wonder. But Irene called out, I thought so, Curdie. I'm sure it wasn't a dream. I'm sure my grandmother has been to see you. Don't you smell the roses? It was my grandmother who healed your leg and sent you to help me. No, Princess Irene, said Curdie. I wasn't good enough to be allowed to help you. I didn't believe you. Your old grandmother took care of you without me. She sent you to help my people anyhow. I wish my king papa would come, I do so want to tell him how good you've been. But, said the mother, we are forgetting how frightened your people must be. You must take the princess home at once, Curdie, or at least go and tell them where she is. Yes, mother, only I'm dreadfully hungry. Do let me have some breakfast first. They ought to have listened to me, and then they wouldn't have been taken by surprise as they were. That is true, Curdie, but it's not for you to blame them much. You remember? Yes, mother, I do. Only I must really have something to eat. You shall remember, boy, as fast as I can get it, said his mother, rising and setting the princess on her chair. But before his breakfast was ready, Curdie jumped up so suddenly as to startle both his companions. Mother and mother, he cried, I was forgetting, you must take the princess home yourself. I must go and wake my father. Without a word of explanation, he rushed to the place where his father was sleeping. Having thoroughly roused him with what he told him, he darted out of the cottage. End of Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine 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 Twenty-Nine Mason Work He had all at once remembered the resolution of the Goblins to carry out their second plan upon the failure of the first. No doubt they were already busy, and the mine was therefore in the greatest danger of being flooded and rendered useless, not to speak of the lives of the miners. When he reached the mouth of the mine, after rousing all the miners within reach, he found his father and a good many more just entering. They all hurried to the gang by which he had found the way into the Goblin Country. There the foresight of Peter had already collected a great many blocks of stone with cement ready for building up the weak place, well enough known to the Goblins. Although there was not room for more than two to be actually building at once, they managed, by setting all the rest to work in preparing the cement and passing the stones, to finish in the course of the day a huge buttress filling the whole gang, and supported everywhere by the live rock. Before the hour when they usually dropped work, they were satisfied that the mine was secure. They had heard Goblin hammers and pickaxes busy all the time, and at length fancied they heard sounds of water they had never heard before. But that was otherwise accounted for when they left the mine, for they stepped out into a tremendous storm which was raging all over the mountain. The thunder was bellowing and the lightning lancing out of a huge black cloud which lay above it and hung down its edges of thick mist over its sides. The lightning was breaking out of the mountain, too, and flashing up into the cloud. From the state of the brooks, now swollen into raging torrents, it was evident that the storm had been storming all day. The wind was blowing as it would blow him off the mountain, but anxious about his mother and the princess, Curdie darted up through the thick of the tempest. Even if they had not set out before the storm came on, he did not judge them safe. For in such a storm even their poor little house was in danger. Indeed, he soon found that but for a huge rock against which it was built, and which protected it both from the blasts and the waters, it must have been swept if it was not blown away. For the two torrents into which this rock parted the rush of water behind it, united again in front of the cottage, two roaring and dangerous streams which his mother and the princess could not possibly have passed. It was with great difficulty that he forced his way through one of them and up to the door. The moment his hand fell on the latch, through all the uproar of winds and waters came the joyous cry of the princess. There's Curdie! Curdie! Curdie! She was sitting wrapped in blankets on the bed, his mother trying for the hundredth time to light the fire which had been drowned by the rain that came down the chimney. The clay floor was one mass of mud, and the whole place looked wretched, but the faces of the mother and the princess shone as if their troubles only made them the merrier. Curdie burst out laughing at the sight of them. I never had such fun, said the princess, her eyes twinkling and her pretty teeth shining. How nice it must be to live in a cottage on the mountain! It all depends on what kind your inside house is, said the mother. I know what you mean, said Irene. That's the kind of thing my grandmother says. By the time Peter returned the storm was nearly over, but the streams were so fierce and so swollen that it was not only out of the question for the princess to go down the mountain, but most dangerous for Peter even, or Curdie, to make the attempt in the gathering darkness. They will be dreadfully frightened about you, said Peter to the princess, but we cannot help it. We must wait till the morning. With Curdie's help the fire was lighted at last, and the mother set about making their supper, and after supper they all told the princess stories till she grew sleepy. Then Curdie's mother laid her in Curdie's bed, which was in a tiny little garret room. As soon as she was in bed, through a little window low down in the roof, she caught sight of her grandmother's lamp shining far away beneath, and she gazed at the beautiful silvery globe until she fell asleep. End of Chapter 29 Chapter 30 OF THE PRINCESS AND THE GOBLIN CHAPTER 30 THE KING AND THE KISS The next morning the sun rose so bright that Irene said the rain had washed his face and let the light out clean. The torrents were still roaring down the side of the mountain, but they were so much smaller as not to be dangerous in the daylight. After an early breakfast Peter went to his work, and Curdie and his mother set out to take the princess home. They had difficulty in getting her dry across the streams, and Curdie had again and again to carry her, but at last they got safe on the broader part of the road, and walked gently down towards the king's house. And what should they see as they turned the last corner, but the last of the king's troop riding through the gate? Oh, Curdie! cried Irene, clapping her hands right joyfully. My king, papa, is come! The moment Curdie heard that, he caught her up in his arms, and set off at full speed, crying, Come on, mother dear! The king may break his heart before he knows that she's safe. Irene clung round his neck, and he ran with her like a deer. When he entered the gate into the court, there sat the king on his horse, with all the people of the house about him, weeping and hanging their heads. The king was not weeping, but his face was as white as a dead man's, and he looked as if the life had gone out of him. The men at arms he had brought with him sat with horror-stricken faces, but eyes flashing with rage, waiting only for the word of the king to do something. They did not know what, and nobody knew what. The day before, the men at arms belonging to the house, as soon as they were satisfied the princess had been carried away, rushed after the goblins into the hole, but found that they had already so skillfully blockaded the narrowest part, not many feet below the cellar, that without miners and their tools they could do nothing. Not one of them knew where the mouth of the mine lay, and some of those who had set out to find it had been overtaken by the storm, and had not even yet returned. Poor Sir Walter was especially filled with shame, and almost hoped the king would order his head to be cut off, for to think of that sweet little face down among the goblins was unendurable. When Curdie ran in at the gate with the princess in his arms, they were all so absorbed in their own misery, and awed by the king's presence and grief, that no one observed his arrival. He went straight up to the king, where he sat on his horse. Papa! Papa! The princess cried, stretching out her arms to him. Here I am! The king started. The colour rushed to his face. He gave an inarticulate cry. Curdie held up the princess, and the king bent down and took her from his arms. As he clasped her to his bosom, the big tears went dropping down his cheeks and his beard, and such a shout arose from all the bystanders, that the startled horses pranced and capered, and the armour rang and clattered, and the rocks of the mountain echoed back the noises. The princess greeted them all as she nestled in her father's bosom, and the king did not set her down until she had told them all the story. But she had more to tell about Curdie than about herself, and what she did tell about herself, none of them could understand, except the king and Curdie, who stood by the king's knee, stroking the neck of the great white horse. And still, as she told what Curdie had done, Sir Walter and others added to what she told, even Lutie joining in the praises of his courage and energy. Curdie held his peace, looking quietly up in the king's face, and his mother stood on the outskirts of the crowd, listening with delight, for her son's deeds were pleasant in her ears, until the princess caught sight of her. And there is his mother, King Papa, she said. See, there, she's such a nice mother and has been so kind to me. They all parted asunder, as the king made a sign for her to come forward. She obeyed, and he gave her his hand, but could not speak. And now, King Papa, the princess went on, I must tell you another thing. One night, long ago, Curdie drove the goblins away, and brought Lutie and me safe from the mountain. And I promised him a kiss when we got home, but Lutie wouldn't let me give it him. I don't want you to scold Lutie, but I want you to tell her that a princess must do as she promises. Indeed she must, my child. Accept it me wrong, said the king. There, give Curdie a kiss. And as he spoke, he held her towards him. The princess reached down, threw her arms round Curdie's neck, and kissed him on the mouth, saying, There, Curdie, there's the kiss, I promised you. Then they all went into the house, and the cook rushed to the kitchen, and the servants their work. Lutie dressed Irene in her shinningest clothes, and the king put off his armour and put on purple and gold, and a messenger was sent for Peter and all the miners, and there was a great and grand feast, which continued long after the princess was put to bed. End of Chapter 30 Chapter 31 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 31 The Subterranean Waters The king's harpist, who always formed a part of his escort, was chanting a ballad which he made as he went on, playing on his instrument, about the princess and the goblins, and the prowess of Curdie, when all at once he ceased, with his eyes on one of the doors of the hall. Thereupon the eyes of the king and his guests turned thitherward also. The next moment, through the open doorway, came the princess Irene. She went straight up to her father, with her right hand stretched out a little sideways, and her forefinger, as her father and Curdie understood, feeling its way along the invisible thread. The king took her on his knee, and she said in his ear, King Papa, do you hear that noise? I hear nothing, said the king. Listen, she said, holding up her forefinger. The king listened, and a great stillness fell upon the company, each man seeing that the king listened, listened also, and the harpist sat with his harp between his arms, and his finger silent upon the strings. I do hear a noise, said the king at length, a noise as of distant thunder. It is coming nearer and nearer. What can it be? They all heard it now, and each seemed ready to start to his feet as he listened, yet all sat perfectly still. The noise came rapidly nearer. What can it be? said the king again. I think it must be another storm coming over the mountain, said Sir Walter. Then Curdie, who at the first word of the king had slipped from his seat, and laid his ear to the ground, rose up quickly, and approaching the king said, speaking very fast, Please, young majesty, I think I know what it is. I have no time to explain, for that might make it too late for some of us. Will your majesty give orders that everybody leave the house as quickly as possible, and get up the mountain? The king, who was the wisest man in the kingdom, knew well that there was a time when things must be done, and questions left till afterwards. He had faith in Curdie, and rose instantly, with irony in his arms. Every man and woman follow me, he said, and strode out into the darkness. Before he had reached the gate, the noise had grown to a great thundering roar, and the ground trembled beneath their feet, and before the last of them had crossed the court, out after them from the great hall-door came a huge rush of turbid water, and almost swept them away. But they got safe out of the gate and up the mountain, while the torrent went roaring down the road into the valley beneath. Curdie had left the king and the princess to look after his mother, whom he and his father, one on each side, caught up, when the stream overtook them, and carried safe and dry. When the king had got out of the way of the water, a little up the mountain, he stood with the princess in his arms, looking back with amazement on the issuing torrent, which glimmered fierce and foamy through the night. There Curdie rejoined them. Now, Curdie, said the king, what does it mean? Is this what you expected? It is, Your Majesty, said Curdie, and proceeded to tell him about the second scheme of the goblins, who, fancying the miners of more importance to the upper world than they were, had resolved, if they should fail in carrying off the king's daughter, to flood the mine and drown the miners. Then he explained what the miners had done to prevent it. The goblins had, in pursuance of their design, let loose all the underground reservoirs and streams, expecting the water to run down into the mine, which was lower than their part of the mountain, for they had, as they supposed, not knowing of the solid wall close behind, broken a passage through into it. But the readiest outlet the water could find had out to be the tunnel they had made to the king's house, the possibility of which catastrophe had not occurred to the young miner, until he had laid his ear to the floor of the hall. What was then to be done? The house appeared to be in danger of falling, and every moment the torrent was increasing. We must set out at once, said the king. But how to get at the horses? Shall I see if we can manage that? said Curdie. Do, said the king. Curdie gathered the men at arms, and took them over the garden wall, and so to the stables. They found their horses in terror. The water was rising fast around them, and it was quite time they were got out. But there was no way to get them out except by riding them through the stream, which was now pouring from the lower windows as well as the door. As one horse was quite enough for any man to manage, through such a torrent, Curdie got on the king's white charger, and leading the way brought them all in safety to the rising ground. Look, look, Curdie! cried Irene, the moment that, having dismounted, he led his horse up to the king. Curdie did look, and saw high in the air, somewhere about the top of the king's house, a great globe of light shining like the purest silver. Oh! he cried in some consternation. That is your grandmother's lamp. We must get her out. I'll go and find her. The house may fall, you know. My grandmother is in no danger, said Irene, smiling. Here, Curdie, take the princess while I get on my horse, said the king. Curdie took the princess again, and both turned their eyes to the globe of light. The same moment, though shot from it a white bird, which, descending without stretched wings, made one circle round the king and Curdie and the princess, and then glided up again. The light and the pigeon vanished together. Now, Curdie, said the princess, as he lifted her to her father's arms, you see my grandmother knows all about it and isn't frightened. I believe she could walk through that water, and it wouldn't wet her a bit. But my child, said the king, you will be cold if you haven't something more on. Run, Curdie, my boy, and fetch anything you can lay your hands on to keep the princess warm. We have a long ride before her. Curdie was gone in a moment, and soon returned with a great rich fur, and the news that dead goblins were tossing about in the current through the house. They had been caught in their own snare. Instead of the mine, they had flooded their own country, whence they were now swept up drowned. Irene shuddered, but the king held her close to his bosom. Then he turned to Sir Walter and said, Bring Curdie's father and mother here. I wish, said the king, when they stood before him, to take your son with me. He shall enter my bodyguard at once and wait for the promotion. Peter and his wife overcome, only murmured almost inaudible thanks. But Curdie spoke aloud. Please, Your Majesty! he said, I cannot leave my father and mother. That's right, Curdie! cried the princess. I wouldn't if I was you. The king looked at the princess, and then at Curdie with a glow of satisfaction on his countenance. I too think you are right, Curdie, he said, and I will not ask you again. But I shall have a chance of doing something for you some time. Your Majesty has already allowed me to serve you, said Curdie. But Curdie, said his mother, why shouldn't you go with the king? We can get on very well without you. But I can't get on well without you, said Curdie. The king is very kind, but I could not be half the use to him that I am to you. Please, Your Majesty, if you wouldn't mind giving my mother a red petticoat, I should have got her one long ago, but for the goblin. As soon as we get home, said the king, Irene and I will search out the warmest one to be found, and send it by one of the gentlemen. Yes, that we will, Curdie, said the princess, and next summer we'll come back and see you where it curds his mother, she added. Shouldn't we, King Papa? Yes, my love, I hope so, said the king. Then, turning to the miners, he said, Will you do the best you can for my servants tonight? I hope they will be able to return to the house tomorrow. The miners with one voice promised their hospitality. Then the king commanded his servants to mind whatever Curdie should say to them, and after shaking hands with him and his father and mother, the king and the princess and all their company rode away down the side of the new stream, which had already devoured half the road into the starry night. End of Chapter 31, Chapter 32 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 32 The Last Chapter All the rest went up the mountain and separated in groups to the homes of the miners. Curdie and his father and mother took Lutie with them, and the whole way a light of which all but Lutie understood the origin, shone upon their path, but when they looked round, they could see nothing of the silvery globe. For days and days the water continued to rush from the doors and windows of the king's house, and a few goblin bodies were swept out into the road. Curdie saw that something must be done. He spoke to his father and the rest of the miners, and they at once proceeded to make another outlook for the waters, by setting all hands to the work, tunneling here and building there, they soon succeeded. And having also made a little tunnel to drain the water away from under the king's house, they were soon able to get into the wine cellar, where they found a multitude of dead goblins. Among the rest the queen, with the skin shoe gone, and the stone one fast to her ankle, that for the water had swept away the barricade which prevented the men-at-arms from following the goblins, and had greatly widened the passage. They built it securely up, and then went back to their labours in the mine. A good many of the goblins with their creatures escaped from the inundation out upon the mountain, but most of them soon left that part of the country, and most of those who remained grew milder in character, and indeed became very much like the scotch-brownies. Their skulls became softer as well as their hearts, and their feet grew harder, and by degrees they became friendly with the inhabitants of the mountain, and even with the miners, but the latter were merciless to any of the cobs' creatures that came in their way, until at length they all but disappeared. The rest of the history of the Princess and Curdie must be kept for another volume. End of Chapter 32 And of The Princess and the Goblin by George MacDonald Read by Andy Mentor