by Avi
After that one brief frightening moment—when Queen Isabelle had seen nothing—the next second she was convinced she was looking at the most beautiful baby girl in the world, the very child she had long imagined and always wanted. Of course, she named the child Babette.
With Babette secure in her mother's arms, the midwife stepped outside the delivery room, where King Alfredo was waiting anxiously.
"How is my wife?" he asked.
"Everything went splendidly," said the midwife.
"Wonderful! And the child?"
"A perfect girl."
"Better than wonderful! May I see them?"
The midwife led King Alfredo to the queen's bedside. There Queen Isabelle said, "Here, husband of mine, is Babette, our new daughter, the future queen of Solandia. Isn't she every bit as beautiful as I desired?"
The king peeked inside the bundle. For just the very small part of a very small second, he saw... nothing.
"Not so much as one blemish, has she?" said Queen Isabelle.
The king hesitated. "What," he said, "do you like most about her?"
"Exactly what I expected to like," returned the queen. "Her clear blue eyes and blond hair. Just like her mother's."
King Alfredo looked again, and this time he saw the beautiful daughter his wife had so often and vividly described. So he said, "Yes indeed, her eyes are quite splendid."
Then he added, "But I confess, it's her delicate nose, and noble forehead—which she gets from my side of the family—that I admire!"
"You are as perceptive as ever," said the queen.
Because the birth of Princess Babette was important news in the queendom of Solandia, the king went to the Prime Minister and told that wise gentleman how well everything had gone.
The Prime Minister asked, "Is the princess as perfect as her Queen Mother desired?"
"The girl is truly flawless," said King Alfredo. "Just what was wanted." In great detail he described Babette.
The Prime Minister went to the Lord High Information Officer and told him the happy news.
"We must send out a proclamation at once," said the Lord High Information Officer. "With," he added, "an appropriate portrait of the princess!"
The Prime Minister agreed.
"Of course," said the Lord High Information Officer, "to do so I must know what Princess Babette looks like."
The Prime Minister provided him with the king's description, adding some details from what he recalled as to the way Queen Isabelle had spoken of her much-desired child.
The Lord High Information Officer went to the Royal Court Artist and asked him to do a portrait of the new princess so every citizen in Solandia would know her likeness.
"Can you describe her to me?" said the Royal Court Artist.
"Of course!" said the Lord High Information Officer, and he gave a fine verbal portrait of Babette—-just as he had been told.
The Royal Court Artist—who was famous not just for his skill but even more for his ability to create art that satisfied his clients' high ideals—made the portrait. Because there was no one he wished to satisfy more than Queen Isabelle, he painted a stunning picture of the new princess.
When Queen Isabelle saw the portrait, she said, "That's her—exactly!"
Very soon thereafter, a royal proclamation—complete with a portrait of beautiful Princess Babette—was distributed to every person in Solandia. The citizens, seeing the sweet face of the new princess, their future queen, were very proud. How satisfying that Solandia had a princess without so much as one blemish.
Long live Solandia! Long live Babette the Beautiful!
Of course, when the people actually saw Princess Babette, they did experience a brief and puzzling moment of confusion because nothing seemed to be there. Nothing to worry about! All they had to do was glance at the proclamation portrait to tell them exactly what Babette looked like. Besides, the image they saw was indeed perfect.
One other thing of importance happened: Shortly after Babette's birth, Queen Isabelle banished all mirrors from Solandia.
But alas, before Babette was one year old, Queen Isabelle and King Alfredo faded away.
The queen was the first to die. The cause—it was whispered—was madness. Isabelle's symptoms appeared when she took to avoiding all light. Next she bound up her eyes and walked about like a blind person. Her actual death came during the night, when she accidentally fell from the highest point of the castle. It was said she could not see where she was going.
A rumor spread throughout Solandia that the death was somehow connected with the new princess. The Lord High Information Officer, in haste, made it a crime to speak of such a thing. As he explained to the Prime Minister: "The country must protect its image."
As for King Alfredo's death, though the doctors gave medical reasons, it was commonly understood that he died of grief over the loss of his beloved wife. Indeed, his last words were, "I can no longer see any reason to live."
When these sad events transpired, Princess Babette, not yet one year of age, was far too young to take the throne. A queen had to be at least sixteen. So Solandia was ruled—quite properly, it must be said—on her behalf by the Prime Minister.
Years passed. Although Babette remained invisible, and despite the fact that all mirrors had been banned from the land, the young princess knew exactly what she looked like. She knew this by looking at portraits of herself—which were placed on every wall of every room—throughout the palace. Indeed, the Prime Minister had decreed that a portrait of the princess be placed in every home throughout the entire country of Solandia.
The artists of Solandia were only too happy to comply with the decree, for they loved to paint Babette's picture, readily confessing that the young princess was—after all—the perfect subject.
Did Babette look the same in every portrait? Of course not! Because the talents of the artists differed, so too did the images differ. Still, certain qualities were there. Babette never had a blemish. And—she was always beautiful.
More years passed. Babette's sixteenth birthday approached. In Solandia it was the custom that only after the heir apparent married could she claim the throne as the country's rightful ruler. Of course the choice of a spouse was Babette's, but a choice had to be made. This selection of a husband was to be the most important decision of her young life. Hardly a wonder that the question raging about Solandia was this: Whom among the many suitors would Princess Babette choose to marry?
The court became a beehive of curiosity. Every move Babette made, everything she said, every man she met, was watched and talked about. Only one thing was generally agreed upon: For a princess as beautiful as Babette, only the most handsome man would do.
Shortly before her birthday, the Prime Minister invited Babette's favored suitors—the short list numbered seven—to join her for a week of festivities. Wisely wanting to provide a place for her to make her crucial decision far from the distractions of a court caught up in the frenzy of speculation, the Prime Minister chose a far corner of Solandia—the Northern Forest.
Before Babette left the castle in her carriage, the Prime Minister spoke some words to her: "Choose well, my princess. I have so much faith in your judgment I see no need to come along. Just remember, the eyes of history will be watching you."
With that, Babette went in her carriage, her seven suitors following close behind.
Each day of the following week proved perfect. The weather was lovely. Skies were cobalt blue by day, star bright and crisp by night. "Like Babette," one of the handsome young men noted as he glanced lovingly (so all could see him do so) at the portrait of Babette with which each suitor had been provided.
Babette, meanwhile, met first with one young man and then another. She gossiped idly with one, talked philosophy with another. With a third she went walking. With yet another she went hunting. She did a little of each with each.
"I think I am ready to choose," said Babette to the Royal Trail Master. "I should like to do so dramatically. Have
you any suggestions?"
The Royal Trail Master told the princess about a spectacular wild rose he had discovered in the most isolated part of the forest. "It is the most beautiful rose I have ever seen," he informed Babette.
"As pretty as me?"
"Almost."
"Then I will pluck it and present it to the one I have chosen for a husband," said Babette.
Therefore, it was agreed that the entire party would walk through the forest, and then return to waiting coaches. At that point Babette would announce her choice of a husband by giving him the rose. The lucky man would escort her home. All agreed it would be wonderfully romantic and very picturesque.
With soldiers to guard against any mishaps, the party worked its way deep into the forest. But no matter where they all looked, the rose could not be found.
"How annoying," said Babette. "Still, I must make my choice."
When the Royal Trail Master announced it was time to go back to the coaches, a tremor of excitement passed through the crowd. Babette was about to make her decision.
At that moment Babette, remembering the Prime Minister's stern admonition to make her choice with care, called the Royal Trail Master and said, "I need just a few more moments of privacy to make my decision. I shall go for a stroll. Perhaps I'll come upon that beautiful rose."
"Maybe it would be best for me to stay," said the Trail Master.
"No, no," Babette replied. "I require only a short time. I can catch up easily."
Accordingly, the Trail Master waved everybody on. Babette remained. Alone, she clasped her hands and closed her eyes, and began to think very hard about her crucial decision.
While meditating deeply, she heard someone's footsteps. An indignant Babette opened her eyes.
Staring fixedly at her was a twisted old woman. The woman's face was haggard. Her hair was sparse and gray. Her hands were gnarled, and ribboned with veins. Upon her frail shoulders lay a tattered blue-and-green shawl. Babette thought her very ugly.
After a moment of alarm, Babette regained her composure and said, "Who are you? And what are you doing here?"
To which the woman responded, "Who are you to speak so rudely to me?"
"I am Babette, Royal Princess of Solandia."
"Are you?"
"Can you not tell just by looking at me?" Babette returned, annoyed with the rudeness of the woman.
"Perhaps you are what you say," the old woman said, "but perhaps you are not. I cannot tell because I cannot see you."
"What nonsense!" Babette replied. "You are talking to me. I am talking to you."
"I certainly hear you," the woman said. "But all I see is a suit, gloves, a hat, and boots. I don't see a person."
"Are you so blind that you don't see my face?"
"Be assured I'm not blind, but I don't see your face."
"But it's right here!" Babette cried, pulling off one of her gloves and touching a finger to her own nose. "What do you think I'm touching?"
"I have no idea!" the old woman exclaimed. "What's more, you have no hand, either. Are you, perhaps, a ghost?"
"I am the Royal Princess of Solandia!" cried Babette, stamping her foot with vexation. "Who are you?"
"My name is Esmeralda."
At that moment, the Royal Trail Master, concerned that Babette was overdue, had come back with soldiers. When he saw the princess talking to someone, he stopped.
Though Babette saw the Trail Master and soldiers approach, she continued to give her attention to the woman. "Are you aware," Babette said to the old woman, "that you have insulted me?"
"I beg your pardon," said Esmeralda. "I can tell you only what I see or—in this case—do not see."
"I want this woman arrested!" Babette demanded. "She has offended me grossly!"
It was but a moment's work for the soldiers to take the old woman into custody.
"Bring her to the castle prison!" Babette commanded.
That, too, was done, and in moments the Royal Trail Master and Babette were alone.
"Did the old woman hurt you, Princess?"
Babette was about to say no. Instead she said, "Do I look as if I've been hurt?"
The Royal Trail Master studied her carefully.
"No," he said. "Not as far as I can see."
"What about my face?"
"To me," replied the Royal Trail Master, "you look just as you have always looked."
"And what way is that?"
"Without a blemish. Perfect."
"Fine," Babette said. "That proves the woman is mad. We've probably saved her from harming herself. I feel better already. Let's catch up with the others."
When Babette reached the carriage, her suitors were all lined up, ready for her great decision. Babette, however, could not free her mind from what had just occurred.
"I need a little more time," she announced.
Babette went home, alone in her carriage. Instead of pondering who would be her spouse, she kept thinking about what had happened in the forest. She did not, of course, believe what the old woman had said. Still, she could not get the incident out of her mind.
When Babette arrived at the castle, the Prime Minister hurried to meet her. "Princess, I understand you met with some trouble in the forest."
"A hideous old woman named Esmeralda insulted me."
"Ah, Princess, the world is full of people who do not see things the way they should. Lacking insight, they are blind to the true beauties of the world."
"It was nothing," Babette assured the Prime Minister. Then she asked, "What happened to her?"
"She's in the palace prison awaiting her punishment, which will be set by the Royal High Judge."
"Good," Babette said.
"And you, have you made up your mind about your future husband?" the Prime Minister inquired anxiously.
Babette replied, "I was too distracted and couldn't see my way clear. I'll make my decision tonight."
That night as Babette was preparing for bed, she examined her face in one of the portraits she used as a mirror. Turning to a lady-in-waiting, she asked, "Tell me, what do I look like?"
To this the woman replied, "Why, Princess, you look exactly like your portrait."
"Which one?"
"Your favorite one. The one on your vanity table."
Babette stared at the portrait for a long time. When she got into bed she kept asking herself, "Do I really look like that?"
She slept restlessly.
In the morning the Prime Minister came to ask if Babette had chosen her husband.
"Never mind that," Babette replied. "Has that woman I met in the forest been punished yet?"
"The punishment will be announced today. I can assure you she will be banished. You'll never have to set eyes on her again. But you're not worried about her, are you?"
"No," said Babette. "Though she did insult me, perhaps she feels remorse. If she would apologize and admit her mistake, I'd be inclined to pardon her."
"How gracious of you," the Prime Minister said. "And the matter of your husband...?"
"All in good time..."
That afternoon Babette was seated in her audience chamber when Esmeralda was ushered in between two soldiers. The old woman's feet were in chains. Her hands were tied. As she approached the throne, she lifted her eyes and gazed at Babette.
"Very well, Esmeralda," Babette said, "when you look upon me, what do you see now?"
"Your clothes," Esmeralda said.
"No more?"
"If I speak the truth you'll imprison me again."
"Take off her chains. Undo her hands," Babette commanded.
It was done.
"You are a free woman," Babette said to Esmeralda. "Tell me what you see."
"Chains do not change my eyes. I still see... nothing."
"Tell me the truth!" cried Babette.
"Princess," said the old woman, "I cannot see what I cannot see."
"Everybody else sees me!" cried Babette.
"Princess," said Esmeralda, "t
he truth is, you are invisible."
"Invisible! What nonsense!"
"What would you say if I could prove it to you?" Esmeralda asked.
"You can't!"
"Then request that a mirror be brought here."
"A what?" asked a puzzled Babette.
"A mirror."
"What is a mirror?"
"It's a device for seeing the truth about yourself."
"More nonsense!" Babette cried with indignation. "It's impossible to see oneself."
To which Esmeralda said only, "It may be difficult to see yourself, but how else can you know the person you truly are?"
Babette laughed at the old woman. "Look about the walls. What do you see?"
Esmeralda gazed at the portraits of Babette that hung everywhere. Then she said, "I see one false face in many different poses."
"You are mocking me!" cried Babette. "I need only look at my portraits to know what I look like. They are art, and the whole world knows art tells the truth. Those faces are me."
Esmeralda looked from the portraits to Babette and back again. "That's as may be," she said, "but I can't see your real face—if you have one."
"Go back to jail! "Babette cried.
Esmeralda was led away.
Alone, Babette was greatly agitated. She paced and fretted, then sent for the Prime Minister.
"Your Highness," he said, "have you—"
Babette interrupted. "Are there such things called mirrors, devices by which one can see oneself?"
"My princess," the Prime Minister said soothingly, "a mirror is an ancient device. Mirrors distort life. Here in Solandia, we are civilized. Mirrors are ... primitive. We live by the arts. It was your wise mother who banished them from the nation."
