 Chapter 1 of Fantasy Fairies and Ghosts Volume 2 by Various 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 Sandra Cullen www.dreamandworksmart.com Fantasy Fairies and Ghosts Volume 2 by Various The Kings Betrothed A Story Sketched from Life Chapter 1 Which gives an account of the various characters and their mutual relations to each other and prepares the way, pleasantly, for the many marvellous and most entertaining matters of which the succeeding chapters treat. It was a blessed year. In the fields the corn, the wheat and the barley grew most gloriously. The boys waded in the grass and the cattle in the clover. The trees hung so full of cherries that, with the best will in the world, the great army of the sparrows, though determined to peck everything bare, were forced to leave half the fruit for a future feast. Every creature filled itself full every day at the great guest table of nature. Above all, however, the vegetables in Herdapsel von Zabelfau's kitchen garden had turned out such a splendid and beautiful crop, that it was no wonder Frowline Ancient was unable to contain herself with joy on the subject. We may here explain who Herdapsel von Zabelfau and Ancient were. Perhaps, dear reader, you may have at some time found yourself in that beautiful country, which is watered by the pleasant, kindly river main. Soft morning breezes, breathing their perfume breath over the plain as it shimmered in the golden splendour of the new risen sun, you found it impossible to sit cooped up in your stuffy carriage, and you alighted and wandered into the little grove, through the trees of which, as you descended toward the valley, you came in sight of a little village. And as you were gazing there would suddenly come towards you, through the trees, a tall, lanky man, whose strange dress and appearance riveted your attention. He had on a small grey felt hat on the top of a black periwig. All his clothes were grey, coat, vest, and breeches, grey stockings, even his walking stick coloured grey. He would come up to you with long strides and staring at you with great sunken eyes, seemingly not aware of your existence, would cry out, almost running you down. Good morning, sir, and then, like one waking from a dream, he would add in a hollow, mournful voice. Good morning. Oh, sir, how thankful we ought to be that we have a good, fine morning. The poor people at Santa Cruz just had two earthquakes, and now, at this moment, rain, falling in torrents. While you have been thinking what to say to this strange creature, he, with an allow me, sir, has gently passed his hand across your brow and inspected the palm of your hand, and saying in the same hollow melancholy accents as before, God bless you, sir. You have a good constellation, has gone striding on his way. This odd personage was none other than her Dapsel von Zabelfau, whose sole rather miserable possession is the village, or hamlet, of Dapselheim, which lies before you in this most pleasant and smiling country into which you now enter. You are looking forward to something in the shape of breakfast, but in the little inn things have rather a gloomy aspect. Its small store of provisions was cleared out at the fair, and as you can't be expected to be content with nothing besides milk, they tell you to go to the manor house, where the gracious froline Anna will entertain you hospitably with whatever may be forthcoming there. Accordingly, thither you but take yourself without further ceremony. Concerning this manor house, there is nothing further to say, than that it has doors and windows, as of yore had that of barren, tonda-tong-tong, in Westphalia. But above the hall door, the family coat of arms makes a fine show, carved there in wood with New Zealand skillfulness, and this manor house derives a peculiar character of its own, from the circumstance that its northside leans upon the ensente, or outer line of defence, belonging to an old ruined castle, so that the back entrance is what was formerly the castle gate. And through it one passes at once into the courtyard of that castle, in the middle of which the tall watchtower still stands undamaged. From the whole door, which is surmounted by the coat of arms, there comes meeting you a red cheeked young lady, who, with her clear blue eyes and fair hair, is to be called very pretty indeed, although her figure may be considered just the least bit too roundly substantial. A personification of friendly kindness, she begs you to go in, and as soon as she ascertains your wants, serves you up the most delicious milk, a liberal allowance of first-rate bread and butter, uncooked ham, as good as you would find in Bayonne, and a small glass of beetroot brandy. Meanwhile, this young lady, who is none other than frowline Anna von Zabelfau, talks to you gaily and pleasantly of rural matters, displaying anything but a limited knowledge of such subjects. Suddenly, however, there resounds a loud and terrible voice, as if from the skies, crying, Anna, Anna, Anna! This rather startles you, but frowline Anna says pleasantly. There's Papa back from his walk, calling for his breakfast from his study. Calling from his study, you repeat or inquire astonished? Yes, says frowline Anna, or frowline Ancient, as the people call her. Yes, Papa's study is up in the tower there, and he calls down through the speaking trumpet. And you see, Ancient opened the narrow door of the old loa with a similar desunée la fourchette, to that which you have had yourself, namely, a liberal helping of bread and ham, not forgetting the beetroot brandy, and go briskly in at it. But she is back directly, and taking you all over the charming kitchen garden, has so much to say about feather sage Rapantica, English turnips, little greenheads, Montreux, great yellow and so forth, that you have no idea that all these fine names merely mean various descriptions of cabbages and salads. I think, dear reader, that this little glimpse, which you have had of Dapselheim, is sufficient to enable you to understand all the outs and ins of the establishment, concerning which I have to narrate to you, all manner of extraordinary, barely comprehensible matters and occurrences. Herr Dapsel von Zabel Fowl had, during his youth, very rarely left his parents' country place. They had been people of considerable means. His tutor, after teaching him foreign languages, particularly those of the East, fostered a natural inclination which he possessed towards mysticism, or rather, occupying himself with the mysterious. This tutor died, leaving as a legacy to young Dapsel, a whole library of occult science into the very depths of which he proceeded to plunge. His parents dying, he putook himself to long journeys, and, as his tutor had impressed him with the necessity of doing, to Egypt and India. When he got home again after many years, a cousin had looked after his affairs with such zeal that there was nothing left to him but the little hamlet of Dapselheim. Herr Dapsel was too eagerly occupied, in the pursuit of the sun-born gold of a higher sphere, to trouble himself about that which was earthly. He rather felt obliged to his cousin for preserving to him the pleasant, friendly Dapselheim with the fine tall tower, which might have been built expressly on purpose for astrological operations, and in the upper story and topmost height of which he at once established his study, and indeed he thanked his said cousin from the bottom of his heart. This careful cousin now pointed out that Herr Dapsel von Zabelfau was bound to marry. Dapsel immediately admitted the necessity, and without more ado, married at once the lady whom his cousin had selected for him. This lady disappeared almost as quickly as she had appeared on the scene. She died after bearing him a daughter. The cousin attended to the marriage, the baptism, and the funeral, so that Dapsel, up in his tower, paid very little attention to either. For there was a very remarkable comet visible during most of the time, ever melancholy and anticipative of evil, considered that he was involved in its influence. The little daughter, under the careful upbringing of an old grand aunt, developed a remarkable aptitude for rural affairs. She had to begin at the very beginning and so to speak rise from the ranks, serving successively as goose girl, maid of all work, upper farm maid, housekeeper, and finally as mistress, so that theory was all along illustrated and impressed upon her mind by a salutary share of practice. She was exceedingly fond of ducks and geese, hens and pigeons, and even the tender broods of well-shaped piglings. She was by no means indifferent to, though she did not put a ribbon and a bell around a little white sucking pig's neck, and make it into a sort of lap dog, as a certain young lady in another place was once known to do. But more than anything, more than even to the fruit trees, she was devoted to the kitchen garden. From her grand-aunt's attainments in this line, she had derived very remarkable theoretical knowledge of vegetable culture, which the reader has seen for himself, as regarded digging of the ground, sowing the seed, and setting the plants. Fraulein ancient not only superintended all these operations, but lent most valuable manual aid. She wielded a most vigorous spade, her bitterest enemy would have admitted this, so that while her dapsel von Zabelfau was immersed in astrological observations and other important matters, Fraulein ancient carried on the management of the place in the ablest possible manner. Dapsel looking after the celestial part of the business, an ancient managing the terrestrial side of things, with unceasing vigilance and care, as above said, it was small wonder that ancient was almost beside herself with delight at the magnificence of the yield which this season had produced in the kitchen garden. But the carrot bed was what surpassed everything else in the garden in its promise. Oh, my dear beautiful carrots cried Anna over and over again. And she clapped her hands, danced and jumped about, and conducted herself like a child who has been given a grand Christmas present. And indeed it seemed as though the carrot children underground were taking part in ancient's gladness. For some extreme delicate laughter, which just made itself heard, was undoubtedly proceeding from the carrot bed. Ancient didn't, however, pay much heed to it, but ran to meet one of the farm men who was coming, holding up a letter, and calling out to her. For you, Fraulein ancient, Gottlieb brought it from the town. Ancient saw immediately from the handwriting that it was from none other than young her Amanda's Von Nebelstern, the son of a neighbouring proprietor, now at the university. During the time when he was living at home and in the habit of running over to Dapselheim every day, Amanda's had arrived at the conviction that in all his life he never could love anybody except ancient. Similarly, ancient was perfectly certain that she could never really care the least bit about anybody else, but this brown locked Amanda's. Thus both ancient and Amanda's had come to the conclusion and arrangement that they were to be married as soon as ever they could, the sooner the better, and be the very happiest married couple in the wide world. Amanda's had at one time been a bright, natural sort of lad enough, but at the university he had gotten to the hands of God knows who, and had been induced to fancy himself a marvellous poetical genius, as also to take himself to an extreme amount of absurd extravagance in expression of ideas. He carried this so far that he soon soared far away beyond everything which prosaic idiots term sense and reason, maintaining at the same time as they do, that both are perfectly coexistent with the utmost liveliness of imagination. It was from this young Amanda's that the letter came, which ancient opened and read as follows. Heavenly maiden, dust thou see, dust thou feel, dust thou not image and figure to thyself, thy Amanda's, how circumambuated by the orange flower laden breath of the dewy evening, he is lying on his back in the grass, gazing heavenward with eyes filled with the holiest love and the most longing adoration. The thyme and the lavender, the rose and the ghillie flower, as also the yellow-eyed Narcissus and the shamed face violet, he weaveth into garlands, and the flowers are love thoughts, thoughts of thee, O Anna, but doth feeble prose be seem inspired lips? Listen, O listen, how can I love and speak of my love synetically? Love flames aloft in thousand eager sunspheres, joy weweth joy within the heart so warmly. Down from the darkling sky, soft stars are shining, back mirrored from the deep, still wells of love tears. Delight alas, doth die of joy to burning, the sweetest fruit hath I the bitterest kernel, while longing beckons from the violent distance. In pain of love my heart, to dust is turning. In fiery billows rage the ocean surges, yet the bold swimmer dares the plunge full arduous, and soon amid the waves his strong course urges. And on the shore, now near, the jacinth shoots, the faithful heart holds firm to a bleed to death, but heart's blood is the sweetest of all roots. O Anna, when thou readest this sonnet of all sonnets, may all the heavenly rapture permeate thee, in which all my being was dissolved when I wrote it down, and then read it out to kindred minds, conscious like myself of life's highest. Think, O think, I sweet maiden of, thy faithful and raptured, Amanda's von Nebelstern. P. S., don't forget, O sublime virgin, when answering this, to send a pound or two of that Virginia tobacco which you grow yourself. It burns splendidly, and has a far better flavour than the Puerto Rico, which the Borschen smoke when they go to the nyep. Footnote one. The translator may point out that the original of this nonsense is itself intentionally nonsense, and that he has done his best to render it into English, not an easy task. Fraulein Ancient pressed the letter to her lips and said, Oh dear, how beautiful! And the darling verses rhyming so beautifully. Oh, if I were only clever enough to understand it all, but I suppose nobody can do that but a student. I wonder what that about the roots means? I suppose it must be the long red English carrots, or who knows, it may be the Rappentika, dear fellow. That very day, Fraulein Ancient made it her business to pack up the tobacco, and she took a dozen of her finest goose quills to the school master to get him to make them into pens. Her intention was to sit down at once and begin her answer to the precious letter. As she was going out of the kitchen garden, she was again followed by a very faint, almost imperceptible sound of delicate laughter. And if she had paid a little attention to what was going on, she would have been sure to hear a little delicate voice saying, Pull me, pull me, I am ripe, ripe, ripe. However, as we have said, she paid no attention and did not hear this. End of chapter one.