The Orange Fairy Book (23 page)

'Oh, my lovely princess, why did we ever leave home?' cried she. 'But
the king your father will avenge the insults that have been heaped on
you when we tell him how you have been treated.'

'I will tell him myself,' replied the king in wrath; 'he promised me a
wonder of beauty, he has sent me a skeleton! I am not surprised that
he has kept her for fifteen years hidden away from the eyes of the
world. Take them both away,' he continued, turning to his guards, 'and
lodge them in the state prison. There is something more I have to
learn of this matter.'

His orders were obeyed, and the prince, loudly bewailing his sad fate,
was led back to bed, where for many days he lay in a high fever. At
length he slowly began to gain strength, but his sorrow was still so
great that he could not bear the sight of a strange face, and shuddered
at the notion of taking his proper part in the court ceremonies.
Unknown to the king, or to anybody but Becasigue, he planned that, as
soon as he was able, he would make his escape and pass the rest of his
life alone in some solitary place. It was some weeks before he had
regained his health sufficiently to carry out his design; but finally,
one beautiful starlight night, the two friends stole away, and when the
king woke next morning he found a letter lying by his bed, saying that
his son had gone, he knew not whither. He wept bitter tears at the
news, for he loved the prince dearly; but he felt that perhaps the
young man had done wisely, and he trusted to time and Becasigue's
influence to bring the wanderer home.

And while these things were happening, what had become of the white
doe? Though when she sprang from the carriage she was aware that some
unkind fate had changed her into an animal, yet, till she saw herself
in a stream, she had no idea what it was.

'Is it really, I, Desiree?' she said to herself, weeping. 'What wicked
fairy can have treated me so; and shall I never, never take my own
shape again? My only comfort that, in this great forest, full of lions
and serpents, my life will be a short one.'

Now the fairy Tulip was as much grieved at the sad fate of the princess
as Desiree's own mother could have been if she had known of it. Still,
she could not help feeling that if the king and queen had listened to
her advice the girl would by this time be safely in the walls of her
new home. However, she loved Desiree too much to let her suffer more
than could be helped, and it was she who guided Eglantine to the place
where the white doe was standing, cropping the grass which was her
dinner.

At the sound of footsteps the pretty creature lifted her head, and when
she saw her faithful companion approaching she bounded towards her, and
rubbed her head on Eglantine's shoulder. The maid of honour was
surprised; but she was fond of animals, and stroked the white doe
tenderly, speaking gently to her all the while. Suddenly the beautiful
creature lifted her head, and looked up into Eglantine's face, with
tears streaming from her eyes. A thought flashed through her mind, and
quick as lightning the girl flung herself on her knees, and lifting the
animal's feet kissed them one by one. 'My princess! O my dear
princess!' cried she; and again the white doe rubbed her head against
her, for thought the spiteful fairy had taken away her power of speech,
she had not deprived her of her reason!

All day long the two remained together, and when Eglantine grew hungry
she was led by the white doe to a part of the forest where pears and
peaches grew in abundance; but, as night came on, the maid of honour
was filled with the terrors of wild beasts which had beset the princess
during her first night in the forest.

'Is there no hut or cave we could go into?' asked she. But the doe
only shook her head; and the two sat down and wept with fright.

The fairy Tulip, who, in spite of her anger, was very soft-hearted, was
touched at their distress, and flew quickly to their help.

'I cannot take away the spell altogether,' she said, 'for the Fairy of
the Fountain is stronger than I; but I can shorten the time of your
punishment, and am able to make it less hard, for as soon as darkness
fall you shall resume your own shape.'

To think that by-and-by she would cease to be a white doe—indeed, that
she would at once cease to be one during the night—was for the present
joy enough for Desiree, and she skipped about on the grass in the
prettiest manner.

'Go straight down the path in front of you,' continued the fairy,
smiling as she watched her; 'go straight down the path and you will
soon reach a little hut where you will find shelter.' And with these
words she vanished, leaving her hearers happier than they ever thought
they could be again.

An old woman was standing at the door of the hut when Eglantine drew
near, with the white doe trotting by her side.

'Good evening!' she said; 'could you give me a night's lodging for
myself and my doe?'

'Certainly I can,' replied the old woman. And she led them into a room
with two little white beds, so clean and comfortable that it made you
sleepy even to look at them.

The door had hardly closed behind the old woman when the sun sank below
the horizon, and Desiree became a girl again.

'Oh, Eglantine! what should I have done if you had not followed me,'
she cried. And she flung herself into her friend's arms in a transport
of delight.

Early in the morning Eglantine was awakened by the sound of someone
scratching at the door, and on opening her eyes she saw the white doe
struggling to get out. The little creature looked up and into her
face, and nodded her head as the maid of honour unfastened the latch,
but bounded away into the woods, and was lost to sight in a moment.

Meanwhile, the prince and Becasigue were wandering through the wood,
till at last the prince grew so tired, that he lay down under a tree,
and told Becasigue that he had better go in search of food, and of some
place where they could sleep. Becasigue had not gone very far, when a
turn of the path brought him face to face with the old woman who was
feeding her doves before her cottage.

'Could you give me some milk and fruit?' asked he. 'I am very hungry
myself, and, besides, I have left a friend behind me who is still weak
from illness.'

'Certainly I can,' answered the old woman. 'But come and sit down in
my kitchen while I catch the goat and milk it.'

Becasigue was glad enough to do as he was bid, and in a few minutes the
old woman returned with a basket brimming over with oranges and grapes.

'If your friend has been ill he should not pass the night in the
forest,' said she. 'I have room in my hut—tiny enough, it is true;
but better than nothing, and to that you are both heartily welcome.'

Becasigue thanked her warmly, and as by this time it was almost sunset,
he set out to fetch the prince. It was while he was absent that
Eglantine and the white doe entered the hut, and having, of course, no
idea that in the very next room was the man whose childish impatience
had been the cause of all their troubles.

In spite of his fatigue, the prince slept badly, and directly it was
light he rose, and bidding Becasigue remain where he was, as he wished
to be alone, he strolled out into the forest. He walked on slowly,
just as his fancy led him, till, suddenly, he came to a wide open
space, and in the middle was the white doe quietly eating her
breakfast. She bounded off at the sight of a man, but not before the
prince, who had fastened on his bow without thinking, had let fly
several arrows, which the fairy Tulip took care should do her no harm.
But, quickly as she ran, she soon felt her strength failing her, for
fifteen years of life in a tower had not taught her how to exercise her
limbs.

Luckily, the prince was too weak to follow her far, and a turn of a
path brought her close to the hut, where Eglantine was awaiting her.
Panting for breath, she entered their room, and flung herself down on
the floor.

When it was dark again, and she was once more the princess Desiree, she
told Eglantine what had befallen her.

'I feared the Fairy of the Fountain, and the cruel beasts,' said she;
'but somehow I never thought of the dangers that I ran from men. I do
not know now what saved me.'

'You must stay quietly here till the time of your punishment is over,'
answered Eglantine. But when the morning dawned, and the girl turned
into a doe, the longing for the forest came over her, and she sprang
away as before.

As soon as the prince was awake he hastened to the place where, only
the day before, he had found the white doe feeding; but of course she
had taken care to go in the opposite direction. Much disappointed, he
tried first one green path and then another, and at last, wearied with
walking, he threw himself down and went fast asleep.

Just at this moment the white doe sprang out of a thicket near by, and
started back trembling when she beheld her enemy lying there. Yet,
instead of turning to fly, something bade her go and look at him
unseen. As she gazed a thrill ran through her, for she felt that, worn
and wasted though he was by illness, it was the face of her destined
husband. Gently stooping over him she kissed his forehead, and at her
touch he awoke.

For a minute they looked at each other, and to his amazement he
recognized the white doe which had escaped him the previous day. But
in an instant the animal was aroused to a sense of her danger, and she
fled with all her strength into the thickest part of the forest. Quick
as lightning the prince was on her track, but this time it was with no
wish to kill or even wound the beautiful creature.

'Pretty doe! pretty doe! stop! I won't hurt you,' cried he, but his
words were carried away by the wind.

At length the doe could run no more, and when the prince reached her,
she was lying stretched out on the grass, waiting for her death blow.
But instead the prince knelt at her side, and stroked her, and bade her
fear nothing, as he would take care of her. So he fetched a little
water from the stream in his horn hunting cup, then, cutting some
branches from the trees, he twisted them into a litter which he covered
with moss, and laid the white doe gently on it.

For a long time they remained thus, but when Desiree saw by the way
that the light struck the trees, that he sun must be near its setting,
she was filled with alarm lest the darkness should fall, and the prince
should behold her in her human shape.

'No, he must not see me for the first time here,' she thought, and
instantly began to plan how to get rid of him. Then she opened her
mouth and let her tongue hang out, as if she were dying of thirst, and
the prince, as she expected, hastened to the stream to get her some
more water.

When he returned, the white doe was gone.

That night Desiree confessed to Eglantine that her pursuer was no other
than the prince, and that far from flattering him, the portrait had
never done him justice.

'Is it not hard to meet him in this shape,' wept she, 'when we both
love each other so much?' But Eglantine comforted her, and reminded her
that in a short time all would be well.

The prince was very angry at the flight of the white doe, for whom he
had taken so much trouble, and returning to the cottage he poured out
his adventures and his wrath to Becasigue, who could not help smiling.

'She shall not escape me again,' cried the prince. 'If I hunt her
every day for a year, I will have her at last.' And in this frame of
mind he went to bed.

When the white doe entered the forest next morning, she had not made
up her mind whether she would go and meet the prince, or whether she
would shun him, and hide in thickets of which he knew nothing. She
decided that the last plan was the best; and so it would have been if
the prince had not taken the very same direction in search of her.

Quite by accident he caught sight of her white skin shining through the
bushes, and at the same instant she heard a twig snap under his feet.
In a moment she was up and away, but the prince, not knowing how else
to capture her, aimed an arrow at her leg, which brought her to the
ground.

The young man felt like a murderer as he ran hastily up to where the
white doe lay, and did his best to soothe the pain she felt, which, in
reality, was the last part of the punishment sent by the Fairy of the
Fountain. First he brought her some water, and then he fetched some
healing herbs, and having crushed them in his hand, laid them on the
wound.

'Ah! what a wretch I was to have hurt you,' cried he, resting her head
upon his knees; 'and now you will hate me and fly from me for ever!'

For some time the doe lay quietly where she was, but, as before, she
remembered that the hour of her transformation was near. She struggled
to her feet, but the prince would not hear of her walking, and thinking
the old woman might be able to dress her wound better than he could, he
took her in his arms to carry her back to the hut. But, small as she
was, she made herself so heavy that, after staggering a few steps under
her weight, he laid her down, and tied her fast to a tree with some of
the ribbons of his hat. This done he went away to get help.

Meanwhile Eglantine had grown very uneasy at the long absence of her
mistress, and had come out to look for her. Just as the prince passed
out of sight the fluttering ribbons dance before her eyes, and she
descried her beautiful princess bound to a tree. With all her might
she worked at the knots, but not a single one could she undo, though
all appeared so easy. She was still busy with them when a voice behind
her said:

'Pardon me, fair lady, but it is MY doe you are trying to steal!'

'Excuse me, good knight' answered Eglantine, hardly glancing at him,
'but it is MY doe that is tied up here! And if you wish for a proof of
it, you can see if she knows me or not. Touch my heart, my little
one,' she continued, dropping on her knees. And the doe lifted up its
fore-foot and laid it on her side. 'Now put your arms round my neck,
and sigh.' And again the doe did as she was bid.