The Red Fairy Book, Andrew Lang [book club recommendations txt] 📗

in the first house in the

village, near the windmill, you know.’

 

`Ah! yes! I know now,’ said the Wolf. `Well, that’s just where

I’m going; I shall get there before you, no doubt, with your little

bits of legs, and I’ll tell her you’re coming to see her; then she’ll

wait for you.’

 

Thereupon the Wolf cuts across the wood, and in five minutes

arrives at the Grandmother’s house.

 

He knocks at the door: toc, toc.

 

No answer.

 

He knocks louder.

 

Nobody.

 

Then he stands up on end, puts his two fore-paws on the latch

and the door opens.

 

Not a soul in the house.

 

The old woman had risen early to sell herbs in the town, and

she had gone off in such haste that she had left her bed unmade,

with her great night-cap on the pillow.

 

`Good!’ said the Wolf to himself, `I know what I’ll do.’

 

He shuts the door, pulls on the Grandmother’s night-cap down

to his eyes, then he lies down all his length in the bed and draws

the curtains.

 

In the meantime the good Blanchette went quietly on her way,

as little girls do, amusing herself here and there by picking Easter

daisies, watching the little birds making their nests, and running

after the butterflies which fluttered in the sunshine.

 

At last she arrives at the door.

 

Knock, knock.

 

`Who is there?’ says the Wolf, softening his rough voice as

best he can.

 

`It’s me, Granny, your little Goldenhood. I’m bringing you a

big piece of cake for your Sunday treat to-morrow.’

 

`Press your finger on the latch, then push and the door opens.’

 

`Why, you’ve got a cold, Granny,’ said she, coming in.

 

`Ahem! a little, a little …’ replies the Wolf, pretending to

cough. `Shut the door well, my little lamb. Put your basket on

the table, and then take off your frock and come and lie down by

me: you shall rest a little.’

 

The good child undresses, but observe this! She kept her little

hood upon her head. When she saw what a figure her Granny

cut in bed, the poor little thing was much surprised.

 

`Oh!’ cries she, `how like you are to friend Wolf, Grandmother!’

 

`That’s on account of my night-cap, child,’ replies the Wolf.

 

`Oh! what hairy arms you’ve got, Grandmother!’

 

`All the better to hug you, my child.’

 

`Oh! what a big tongue you’ve got, Grandmother!’

 

`All the better for answering, child.’

 

`Oh! what a mouthful of great white teeth you have, Grandmother!’

 

`That’s for crunching little children with! `And the Wolf opened

his jaws wide to swallow Blanchette.

 

But she put down her head crying:

 

`Mamma! Mamma!’ and the Wolf only caught her little hood.

 

Thereupon, oh dear! oh dear! he draws back, crying and

shaking his jaw as if he had swallowed red-hot coals.

 

It was the little fire-coloured hood that had burnt his tongue

right down his throat.

 

The little hood, you see, was one of those magic caps that they

used to have in former times, in the stories, for making oneself

invisible or invulnerable.

 

So there was the Wolf with his throat burnt, jumping off the

bed and trying to find the door, howling and howling as if all the

dogs in the country were at his heels.

 

Just at this moment the Grandmother arrives, returning from

the town with her long sack empty on her shoulder.

 

`Ah, brigand!’ she cries, `wait a bit!’ Quickly she opens her

sack wide across the door, and the maddened Wolf springs in head

downwards.

 

It is he now that is caught, swallowed like a letter in the post.

 

For the brave old dame shuts her sack, so; and she runs and

empties it in the well, where the vagabond, still howling, tumbles

in and is drowned.

 

`Ah, scoundrel! you thought you would crunch my little grandchild!

Well, to-morrow we will make her a muff of your skin, and

you yourself shall be crunched, for we will give your carcass to

the dogs.’

 

Thereupon the Grandmother hastened to dress poor Blanchette,

who was still trembling with fear in the bed.

 

`Well,’ she said to her, `without my little hood where would

you be now, darling?’ And, to restore heart and legs to the child,

she made her eat a good piece of her cake, and drink a good draught

of wine, after which she took her by the hand and led her back to

the house.

 

And then, who was it who scolded her when she knew all that

had happened?

 

It was the mother.

 

But Blanchette promised over and over again that she would

never more stop to listen to a Wolf, so that at last the mother

forgave her.

 

And Blanchette, the Little Goldenhood, kept her word. And in

fine weather she may still be seen in the fields with her pretty

little hood, the colour of the sun.

 

But to see her you must rise early.[17]

 

[17] Ch. Marelles

THE GOLDEN BRANCH

ONCE upon a time there was a King who was so morose and

disagreeable that he was feared by all his subjects, and with

good reason, as for the most trifling offences he would have their

heads cut off. This King Grumpy, as he was called, had one

son, who was as different from his father as he could possibly be.

No prince equalled him in cleverness and kindness of heart, but

unfortunately he was most terribly ugly. He had crooked legs and

squinting eyes, a large mouth all on one side, and a hunchback.

Never was there a beautiful soul in such a frightful little body, but

in spite of his appearance everybody loved him. The Queen, his

mother, called him Curlicue, because it was a name she rather

liked, and it seemed to suit him.

 

King Grumpy, who cared a great deal more for his own grandeur

than for his son’s happiness, wished to betroth the Prince to the

daughter of a neighbouring King, whose great estates joined his

own, for he thought that this alliance would make him more powerful

than ever, and as for the Princess she would do very well for

Prince Curlicue, for she was as ugly as himself. Indeed, though she

was the most amiable creature in the world, there was no concealing

the fact that she was frightful, and so lame that she always went

about with a crutch, and people called her Princess Cabbage-Stalk.

 

The King, having asked for and received a portrait of this

Princess, had it placed in his great hall under a canopy, and sent

for Prince Curlicue, to whom he said that as this was the portrait

of his future bride, he hoped the Prince found it charming.

 

The Prince after one glance at it turned away with a disdainful

air, which greatly offended his father.

 

`Am I to understand that you are not pleased?’ he said very

sharply.

 

`No, sire,’ replied the Prince. `How could I be pleased to

marry an ugly, lame Princess?’

 

`Certainly it is becoming in YOU to object to that,’ said King

Grumpy, `since you are ugly enough to frighten anyone yourself.’

 

`That is the very reason,’ said the Prince, `that I wish to

marry someone who is not ugly. I am quite tired enough of

seeing myself.’

 

`I tell you that you shall marry her,’ cried King Grumpy

angrily.

 

And the Prince, seeing that it was of no use to remonstrate,

bowed and retired.

 

As King Grumpy was not used to being contradicted in anything,

he was very much displeased with his son, and ordered that he

should be imprisoned in the tower that was kept on purpose for

rebellious Princes, but had not been used for about two hundred

years, because there had not been any. The Prince thought all the

rooms looked strangely old-fashioned, with their antique furniture,

but as there was a good library he was pleased, for he was very fond

of reading, and he soon got permission to have as many books as

he liked. But when he looked at them he found that they were

written in a forgotten language, and he could not understand a single

word, though he amused himself with trying.

 

King Grumpy was so convinced that Prince Curlicue would soon

get tired of being in prison, and so consent to marry the Princess

Cabbage-Stalk, that he sent ambassadors to her father proposing

that she should come and be married to his son, who would make

her perfectly happy.

 

The King was delighted to receive so good an offer for his

unlucky daughter, though, to tell the truth, he found it impossible to

admire the Prince’s portrait which had been sent to him. However,

he had it placed in as favourable a light as possible, and sent

for the Princess, but the moment she caught sight of it she looked

the other way and began to cry. The King, who was very much

annoyed to see how greatly she disliked it, took a mirror, and holding

it up before the unhappy Princess, said:

 

`I see you do not think the Prince handsome, but look at yourself,

and see if you have any right to complain about that.’

 

`Sire,’ she answered, `I do not wish to complain, only I beg of you

do not make me marry at all. I had rather be the unhappy Princess

Cabbage-Stalk all my life than inflict the sight of my ugliness on

anyone else.’

 

But the King would not listen to her, and sent her away with

the ambassadors.

 

In the meantime the Prince was kept safely locked up in his

tower, and, that he might be as dull as possible, King Grumpy

ordered that no one should speak to him, and that they should give

him next to nothing to eat. But all the Princess guards were so

fond of him that they did everything they dared, in spite of the

King, to make the time pass pleasantly.

 

One day, as the Prince was walking up and down the great

gallery, thinking how miserable it was to be so ugly, and to be

forced to marry an equally frightful Princess, he looked up suddenly

and noticed that the painted windows were particularly bright and

beautiful, and for the sake of doing something that would change

his sad thoughts he began to examine them attentively. He found

that the pictures seemed to be scenes from the life of a man who

appeared in every window, and the Prince, fancying that he saw in

this man some resemblance to himself, began to be deeply interested.

In the first window there was a picture of him in one of the turrets

of the tower, farther on he was seeking something in a chink in the

wall, in the next picture he was opening an old cabinet with a

golden key, and so it went on through numbers of scenes, and

presently the Prince noticed that another figure occupied the most

important place in each scene, and this time it was a tall handsome

young man: poor Prince Curlicue found it a pleasure to look at him,

he was so straight and strong. By this time it had grown dark,

and the Prince had to go back to his own room, and to amuse himself

he took up a quaint old book and began to look at the pictures.

But his surprise was great to find that they represented the same

scenes as the windows of the gallery, and what was more, that they

seemed to be alive. In looking at pictures