whispered. "I have an idea that if welisten very carefully we can make sense of what they're saying."
She almost held her breath, so eager was she; and Rafe, too, satperfectly motionless. And Alix was not mistaken. After a while thebirds' chirps took shape to the children's ears. Bit by bit the "tweet,tweet" varied and changed, like a voice heard in the distance, which, asit draws nearer, grows from a murmur into syllables and words.
One bird was answering the other; in fact, there was a lively discussiongoing on between them.
"No, no," said the first. "I tell you it is my turn to begin, brother.I have my story quite ready, just as I heard it down there in the sunnylands from one of my companions, and I must tell it at once before Iforget it."
"Mine is ready too," replied the other bird. "At least almost. I havejust to--think over a few little points, and I am just as anxious as youto amuse the dear children. However, it would be setting them a badexample if we began to quarrel about it, so I will give in. I will flyto a higher branch to meditate a little undisturbed, while you can hoplower still and attract their attention."
Alix and Rafe looked at each other with a smile as the little fellowfluttered downwards and alighted on a branch still nearer them. Therehe flapped his wings and cleared his throat.
"Cheep, cheep," he began. At least that is what it would have soundedto any one else, but the children knew it meant "good-afternoon."
"Thank you," they said. That was not exactly a reply to"good-afternoon," certainly; but they meant to thank him for his kindintentions.
"Oh, so you know all about it, I see," said the bird. "If you do notmind, I should prefer your making no further observations. Itinterrupts the thread of my narration."
The children were perfectly silent. One has to be very careful, yousee, when a bird is telling a story; you can't catch hold of him andpush him back into the arm-chair, as if he was a big person to be coaxedinto entertaining you.
"The title of my story," began the bird, "is `The Summer Princess,'" andagain he cleared his throat.
Once upon a time, in a country far to the north of the world, lived aKing and a Queen, who had everything they could wish for except an heirto their throne. When I say they had everything they could wish for,that does not mean they had no troubles at all. The Queen thought shehad a good many; and the King had one which was more real than any ofher fancied ones. He had a wife who was a terrible grumbler. She was agrumbler by nature, and besides this she had been a spoilt child.
As she was very beautiful and could be very sweet and charming when in acontented mood, the King had fallen deeply in love with her when he wason his travels round the world, and had persuaded her to leave her ownhome in the sunny south to accompany him to his northern kingdom. Thereshe had much to make her happy. Her husband was devoted to her, andwhile the first bright summer lasted, she almost forgot to grumble, butwhen the winter came, fierce and boisterous as it always is in thoselands, she grew very miserable. She shivered with the cold and insteadof bracing herself to bear it, she wrapped herself in her furs and satfrom morning till night cowering over a huge fire. In vain the Kingendeavoured to persuade her to go out with him in his beautiful sledgedrawn by the fleetest reindeer, or to make one in the merry skatingparties which were the great amusement of his court.
"No, no," she cried fretfully. "It would kill me to do anything of thekind." And though she brightened up as each summer came round, with thereturn of each winter it was again the same sad story.
As the years passed on another and more real trouble came upon thediscontented young Queen. She had no children. She longed sogrievously to have a little baby that sometimes she almost forgot herother causes for complaint and left off looking out for the signs of thewinter's approach in the melancholy way she was wont to do. So that oneday late in the autumn she actually forgot her terror of the cold so faras to remain out walking in the grounds of the palace, though the snowclouds were gathering thick and heavy overhead.
She was alone. For sometimes in her saddest moods she could bear noone, not even the most faithful of her ladies, near her.
"If only I had a little baby, a dear little baby of my own, I wouldnever complain of anything again."
No doubt she quite meant what she said. And I must say if her onlycomplaints had been of the cold northern winter, I could indeed find itin my heart to pity her--not that I have any experience of them myself(and the bird gave a little shiver), but I can imagine how terrible theymust be. Indeed the friend from whom I have this story has oftendescribed his sufferings to me, one year when he was belated in thenorth, owing to an injured wing. That is how he came to know the story.
As the Queen uttered her wish, she raised her eyes upwards, and wasstartled to see some snowflakes already falling; she turned to hastenindoors, exclaiming as she went:
"To think that winter is upon us already; I shall no longer have eventhe small pleasure of a stroll in the garden. But if I had a littlebaby to play with and care for, even the dreary winter would not seemlong. Everything would be bright and sunshiny to me."
"Are you sure of that?" said a voice beside her, and glancing up theQueen saw a lovely figure. It was that of a beautiful woman, withgolden hair wreathed with flowers. But her face was somewhat pale andshe drew round her a mantle of russet brown as if to protect her fromthe cold.
"I am the Spirit of the Summer," she said. "I knew you well in yourchildhood in the south, and here too I have watched you, though you didnot know it. Your wish shall be fulfilled. When I return to mynorthern home, I will bring you the child you are longing for. Butremember, the gift will lead to no lasting happiness unless you overcomeyour habit of discontent. For I can only do my part. My brother, thepowerful Spirit of the Winter, though good and true and faithful, isstern and severe. He has heard your murmurings already, and if, whenyour great wish is granted, you still continue them, I tremble for thefate of your child."
The Queen could hardly speak, so overcome was she with delight.
"Thank you, oh, thank you, sweet spirit," she said. "I will indeed takeheed for the future and never murmur again."
"I trust so," replied the fairy, "for listen what will happen if youforget your resolution. The slightest touch of snow would, in thatcase, put the baby into my stern brother's power, and you would findyourself terribly punished. Beware, therefore! Now I must hasten away.I have lingered too long this year, and though my brother and I worktogether and trust each other, he brooks no interference." And as shesaid this, the gracious figure seemed to disappear in a rosy haze, andalmost at the same moment a cold blast, driving the snowflakes beforeit, came with a rush from behind where the young Queen stood, almostlifting her from her feet.
"That must surely be the Spirit of the Winter himself," she thought asshe hurried indoors.
But her cheeks were rosy and her eyes bright. It was whispered in thepalace that evening that for the first time the young Queen had thebrave and fearless air of a true daughter of the north. And that winterwas far the happiest that the King and his wife had yet spent. Scarce amurmur was heard to escape from the Queen's lips, and in her anxiety towin the good-will of the Winter Spirit, she often went out sleighing andjoined in the other amusements which hitherto she had refused to takeany part in during the cold season. More than once, even, she was heardto express admiration of the snow-covered mountains, or of the wonderfulnorthern sunsets and clear star-bespangled skies.
Nevertheless, the return of the warm and sunny days was watched for byher most eagerly. And the Summer Spirit was true to her promise. Onthe loveliest morning of all that year was born a baby Princess, theprettiest baby that ever was seen, with dark-blue eyes and little goldencurls all over her head.
"A true child of the summer," said the happy Queen.
"And strong to brave and enjoy the winter too, I trust," added the King."She must be a true Princess of the north, as her mother is fastbecoming, I hope," he went on with a smile.
But h
is words did not please the Queen, though they were so kindlymeant. With the possession of the baby, though she was so overjoyed tohave her, the young Queen's wayward and dissatisfied spirit began toreturn. She seemed to think the Princess was to be only hers, that thenation and even the King, who naturally felt they had a share in her,must give way, in everything that concerned the child, to its mother'swill. She was even displeased one day when she overheard some of herladies admiring the beautiful colour of the baby's hair and saying thatit showed her a true daughter of the north.
"No such thing," said the Queen.
"It shows her a child of the sunshine and the summer. My sweet Rose!"for so, to please the Queen, the baby had been named.
On the whole, however,
An Enchanted Garden: Fairy Stories Page 9
