A House of Pomegranates, Oscar Wilde [suggested reading TXT] 📗

their spotted hoods and quick

darting tongues, and were much more pleased when the juggler made a

tiny orange-tree grow out of the sand and bear pretty white

blossoms and clusters of real fruit; and when he took the fan of

the little daughter of the Marquess de Las-Torres, and changed it

into a blue bird that flew all round the pavilion and sang, their

delight and amazement knew no bounds. The solemn minuet, too,

performed by the dancing boys from the church of Nuestra Senora Del

Pilar, was charming. The Infanta had never before seen this

wonderful ceremony which takes place every year at Maytime in front

of the high altar of the Virgin, and in her honour; and indeed none

of the royal family of Spain had entered the great cathedral of

Saragossa since a mad priest, supposed by many to have been in the

pay of Elizabeth of England, had tried to administer a poisoned

wafer to the Prince of the Asturias. So she had known only by

hearsay of ‘Our Lady’s Dance,’ as it was called, and it certainly

was a beautiful sight. The boys wore old-fashioned court dresses

of white velvet, and their curious three-cornered hats were fringed

with silver and surmounted with huge plumes of ostrich feathers,

the dazzling whiteness of their costumes, as they moved about in

the sunlight, being still more accentuated by their swarthy faces

and long black hair. Everybody was fascinated by the grave dignity

with which they moved through the intricate figures of the dance,

and by the elaborate grace of their slow gestures, and stately

bows, and when they had finished their performance and doffed their

great plumed hats to the Infanta, she acknowledged their reverence

with much courtesy, and made a vow that she would send a large wax

candle to the shrine of Our Lady of Pilar in return for the

pleasure that she had given her.

 

A troop of handsome Egyptians—as the gipsies were termed in those

days—then advanced into the arena, and sitting down cross-legs, in

a circle, began to play softly upon their zithers, moving their

bodies to the tune, and humming, almost below their breath, a low

dreamy air. When they caught sight of Don Pedro they scowled at

him, and some of them looked terrified, for only a few weeks before

he had had two of their tribe hanged for sorcery in the market-place at Seville, but the pretty Infanta charmed them as she leaned

back peeping over her fan with her great blue eyes, and they felt

sure that one so lovely as she was could never be cruel to anybody.

So they played on very gently and just touching the cords of the

zithers with their long pointed nails, and their heads began to nod

as though they were falling asleep. Suddenly, with a cry so shrill

that all the children were startled and Don Pedro’s hand clutched

at the agate pommel of his dagger, they leapt to their feet and

whirled madly round the enclosure beating their tambourines, and

chaunting some wild love-song in their strange guttural language.

Then at another signal they all flung themselves again to the

ground and lay there quite still, the dull strumming of the zithers

being the only sound that broke the silence. After that they had

done this several times, they disappeared for a moment and came

back leading a brown shaggy bear by a chain, and carrying on their

shoulders some little Barbary apes. The bear stood upon his head

with the utmost gravity, and the wizened apes played all kinds of

amusing tricks with two gipsy boys who seemed to be their masters,

and fought with tiny swords, and fired off guns, and went through a

regular soldier’s drill just like the King’s own bodyguard. In

fact the gipsies were a great success.

 

But the funniest part of the whole morning’s entertainment, was

undoubtedly the dancing of the little Dwarf. When he stumbled into

the arena, waddling on his crooked legs and wagging his huge

misshapen head from side to side, the children went off into a loud

shout of delight, and the Infanta herself laughed so much that the

Camerera was obliged to remind her that although there were many

precedents in Spain for a King’s daughter weeping before her

equals, there were none for a Princess of the blood royal making so

merry before those who were her inferiors in birth. The Dwarf,

however, was really quite irresistible, and even at the Spanish

Court, always noted for its cultivated passion for the horrible, so

fantastic a little monster had never been seen. It was his first

appearance, too. He had been discovered only the day before,

running wild through the forest, by two of the nobles who happened

to have been hunting in a remote part of the great cork-wood that

surrounded the town, and had been carried off by them to the Palace

as a surprise for the Infanta; his father, who was a poor charcoal-burner, being but too well pleased to get rid of so ugly and

useless a child. Perhaps the most amusing thing about him was his

complete unconsciousness of his own grotesque appearance. Indeed

he seemed quite happy and full of the highest spirits. When the

children laughed, he laughed as freely and as joyously as any of

them, and at the close of each dance he made them each the funniest

of bows, smiling and nodding at them just as if he was really one

of themselves, and not a little misshapen thing that Nature, in

some humourous mood, had fashioned for others to mock at. As for

the Infanta, she absolutely fascinated him. He could not keep his

eyes off her, and seemed to dance for her alone, and when at the

close of the performance, remembering how she had seen the great

ladies of the Court throw bouquets to Caffarelli, the famous

Italian treble, whom the Pope had sent from his own chapel to

Madrid that he might cure the King’s melancholy by the sweetness of

his voice, she took out of her hair the beautiful white rose, and

partly for a jest and partly to tease the Camerera, threw it to him

across the arena with her sweetest smile, he took the whole matter

quite seriously, and pressing the flower to his rough coarse lips

he put his hand upon his heart, and sank on one knee before her,

grinning from ear to ear, and with his little bright eyes sparkling

with pleasure.

 

This so upset the gravity of the Infanta that she kept on laughing

long after the little Dwarf had ran out of the arena, and expressed

a desire to her uncle that the dance should be immediately

repeated. The Camerera, however, on the plea that the sun was too

hot, decided that it would be better that her Highness should

return without delay to the Palace, where a wonderful feast had

been already prepared for her, including a real birthday cake with

her own initials worked all over it in painted sugar and a lovely

silver flag waving from the top. The Infanta accordingly rose up

with much dignity, and having given orders that the little dwarf

was to dance again for her after the hour of siesta, and conveyed

her thanks to the young Count of Tierra-Nueva for his charming

reception, she went back to her apartments, the children following

in the same order in which they had entered.

 

Now when the little Dwarf heard that he was to dance a second time

before the Infanta, and by her own express command, he was so proud

that he ran out into the garden, kissing the white rose in an

absurd ecstasy of pleasure, and making the most uncouth and clumsy

gestures of delight.

 

The Flowers were quite indignant at his daring to intrude into

their beautiful home, and when they saw him capering up and down

the walks, and waving his arms above his head in such a ridiculous

manner, they could not restrain their feelings any longer.

 

‘He is really far too ugly to be allowed to play in any place where

we are,’ cried the Tulips.

 

‘He should drink poppy-juice, and go to sleep for a thousand

years,’ said the great scarlet Lilies, and they grew quite hot and

angry.

 

‘He is a perfect horror!’ screamed the Cactus. ‘Why, he is twisted

and stumpy, and his head is completely out of proportion with his

legs. Really he makes me feel prickly all over, and if he comes

near me I will sting him with my thorns.’

 

‘And he has actually got one of my best blooms,’ exclaimed the

White Rose-Tree. ‘I gave it to the Infanta this morning myself, as

a birthday present, and he has stolen it from her.’ And she called

out: ‘Thief, thief, thief!’ at the top of her voice.

 

Even the red Geraniums, who did not usually give themselves airs,

and were known to have a great many poor relations themselves,

curled up in disgust when they saw him, and when the Violets meekly

remarked that though he was certainly extremely plain, still he

could not help it, they retorted with a good deal of justice that

that was his chief defect, and that there was no reason why one

should admire a person because he was incurable; and, indeed, some

of the Violets themselves felt that the ugliness of the little

Dwarf was almost ostentatious, and that he would have shown much

better taste if he had looked sad, or at least pensive, instead of

jumping about merrily, and throwing himself into such grotesque and

silly attitudes.

 

As for the old Sundial, who was an extremely remarkable individual,

and had once told the time of day to no less a person than the

Emperor Charles V. himself, he was so taken aback by the little

Dwarf’s appearance, that he almost forgot to mark two whole minutes

with his long shadowy finger, and could not help saying to the

great milk-white Peacock, who was sunning herself on the

balustrade, that every one knew that the children of Kings were

Kings, and that the children of charcoal-burners were charcoal-burners, and that it was absurd to pretend that it wasn’t so; a

statement with which the Peacock entirely agreed, and indeed

screamed out, ‘Certainly, certainly,’ in such a loud, harsh voice,

that the gold-fish who lived in the basin of the cool splashing

fountain put their heads out of the water, and asked the huge stone

Tritons what on earth was the matter.

 

But somehow the Birds liked him. They had seen him often in the

forest, dancing about like an elf after the eddying leaves, or

crouched up in the hollow of some old oak-tree, sharing his nuts

with the squirrels. They did not mind his being ugly, a bit. Why,

even the nightingale herself, who sang so sweetly in the orange

groves at night that sometimes the Moon leaned down to listen, was

not much to look at after all; and, besides, he had been kind to

them, and during that terribly bitter winter, when there were no

berries on the trees, and the ground was as hard as iron, and the

wolves had come down to the very gates of the city to look for

food, he had never once forgotten them, but had always given them

crumbs out of his little hunch of black bread, and divided with

them whatever poor breakfast he had.

 

So they flew round and round him, just touching his cheek with

their wings as they passed, and chattered to each other, and the

little Dwarf was so pleased that he could not help showing them the

beautiful white rose, and telling them that the Infanta herself had

given it to him because she loved him.

 

They did