English
Ifanyreader,bigorlittle,shouldwonderwhetherthereisameaninginthisstorydeeperthanthatofanordinaryfairytale,Iwillownthatthereis.
ButIhavehiddenitsocarefullythatthesmallerpeople,andmanylargerfolk,willneverfinditout,andmeantimethebookmaybereadstraighton,like“Cinderella,”or“Blue-Beard,”or“Hop-o’my-Thumb,”forwhatinterestithas,orwhatamusementitmaybring.
Havingsaidthis,IreturntoPrinceDolor,thatlittlelameboywhommanymaythinksoexceedinglytobepitied.
Butifyouhadseenhimashesatpatientlyuntyinghiswonderfulcloak,whichwasdoneupinaverytightandperplexingparcel,usingskillfullyhisdeftlittlehands,andknittinghisbrowswithfirmdetermination,whilehiseyesglistenedwithpleasureandenergyandeageranticipation—ifyouhadbeheldhimthus,youmighthavechangedyouropinion.
Whenweseepeoplesufferingorunfortunate,wefeelverysorryforthem;butwhenweseethembravelybearingtheirsufferingsandmakingthebestoftheirmisfortunes,itisquiteadifferentfeeling.Werespect,weadmirethem.
Onecanrespectandadmireevenalittlechild.
WhenPrinceDolorhadpatientlyuntiedalltheknots,aremarkablethinghappened.Thecloakbegantoundoitself.
Slowlyunfolding,itlaiditselfdownonthecarpet,asflatasifithadbeenironed;thesplitjoinedwithalittlesharpcrick-crack,andtherimturnedupallroundtillitwasbreast-high;formeantimethecloakhadgrownandgrown,andbecomequitelargeenoughforonepersontositinitascomfortableasifinaboat.
ThePrincewatcheditratheranxiously;itwassuchanextraordinary,nottosayafrightening,thing.
However,hewasnocoward,butathoroughboy,who,ifhehadbeenlikeotherboys,woulddoubtlesshavegrownupdaringandadventurous—asoldier,asailor,orthelike.
Asitwas,hecouldonlyshowhiscouragemorally,notphysically,bybeingafraidofnothing,andbydoingboldlyallthatitwasinhisnarrowpowerstodo.
AndIamnotsurebutthatinthiswayheshowedmorerealvalorthanifhehadhadsixpairsofproperlegs.
Hesaidtohimself:“WhatagooseIam!Asifmydeargodmotherwouldeverhavegivenmeanythingtohurtme.Heregoes!”
So,withoneofhisactiveleaps,hesprangrightintothemiddleofthecloak,wherehesquatteddown,wrappinghisarmstightroundhisknees,fortheyshookalittleandhisheartbeatfast.
Buttherehesat,steadyandsilent,waitingforwhatmighthappennext.
Nothingdidhappen,andhebegantothinknothingwould,andtofeelratherdisappointed,whenherecollectedthewordshehadbeentoldtorepeat—“Abracadabra,dumdumdum!”
Herepeatedthem,laughingallthewhile,theyseemedsuchnonsense.Andthen—andthen——
NowIdon’texpectanybodytobelievewhatIamgoingtorelate,thoughagoodmanywisepeoplehavebelievedagoodmanysillierthings.
Andasseeing’sbelieving,andIneversawit,Icannotbeexpectedimplicitlytobelieveitmyself,exceptinasortofaway;andyetthereistruthinit—forsomepeople.
Thecloakrose,slowlyandsteadily,atfirstonlyafewinches,thengraduallyhigherandhigher,tillitnearlytouchedtheskylight.
PrinceDolor’sheadactuallybumpedagainsttheglass,orwouldhavedonesohadhenotcroucheddown,crying“Oh,pleasedon’thurtme!”inamostmelancholyvoice.
Thenhesuddenlyrememberedhisgodmother’sexpresscommand—“Opentheskylight!”
Regaininghiscourageatonce,withoutamoment’sdelayhelifteduphisheadandbegansearchingforthebolt—thecloakmeanwhileremainingperfectlystill,balancedintheair.
Buttheminutethewindowwasopened,outitsailed—rightoutintotheclear,freshair,withnothingbetweenitandthecloudlessblue.
PrinceDolorhadneverfeltanysuchdelicioussensationbefore.Icanunderstandit.Cannotyou?
Didyouneverthink,inwatchingtherooksgoinghomesinglyorinpairs,soaringtheirwayacrossthecalmeveningskytilltheyvanishlikeblackdotsinthemistygray,howpleasantitmustfeeltobeupthere,quiteoutofthenoiseanddinoftheworld,abletohearandseeeverythingdownbelow,yettroubledbynothingandteasedbynoone—allalone,butperfectlycontent?
SomethinglikethiswasthehappinessofthelittlelamePrincewhenhegotoutofHopelessTower,andfoundhimselfforthefirsttimeinthepureopenair,withtheskyabovehimandtheearthbelow.
True,therewasnothingbutearthandsky;nohouses,notrees,norivers,mountains,seas—notabeastontheground,orabirdintheair.
Buttohimeventhelevelplainlookedbeautiful;andthentherewasthegloriousarchofthesky,withalittleyoungmoonsittinginthewestlikeababyqueen.
Andtheeveningbreezewassosweetandfresh—itkissedhimlikehisgodmother’skisses;andbyandbyafewstarscameout—firsttwoorthree,andthenquantities—quantities!
sothatwhenhebegantocountthemhewasutterlybewildered.
Bythistime,however,thecoolbreezehadbecomecold;themistgathered;andashehad,ashesaid,nooutdoorclothes,poorPrinceDolorwasnotverycomfortable.
Thedewsfelldamponhiscurls—hebegantoshiver.
“PerhapsIhadbettergohome,”thoughthe.
Buthow?Forinhisexcitementtheotherwordswhichhisgodmotherhadtoldhimtousehadslippedhismemory.
Theywereonlyalittledifferentfromthefirst,butinthatslightdifferencealltheimportancelay.
Asherepeatedhis“Abracadabra,”tryingeversomanyothersyllablesafterit,thecloakonlywentfasterandfaster,skimmingonthroughthedusky,emptyair.
ThepoorlittlePrincebegantofeelfrightened.
Whatifhiswonderfultraveling-cloakshouldkeeponthustraveling,perhapstotheworld’send,carryingwithitapoor,tired,hungryboy,who,afterall,wasbeginningtothinktherewassomethingverypleasantinsupperandbed!
“Deargodmother,”hecriedpitifully,“dohelpme!TellmejustthisonceandI’llneverforgetagain.”
Instantlythewordscamerushingintohishead—“Abracadabra,tumtumti!”Wasthatit?Ah!yes—forthecloakbegantoturnslowly.
Herepeatedthecharmagain,moredistinctlyandfirmly,whenitgaveagentledip,likeanodofsatisfaction,andimmediatelystartedback,asfastasever,inthedirectionofthetower.
Hereachedtheskylight,whichhefoundexactlyashehadleftit,andslippedin,cloakandall,aseasilyashehadgotout.
Hehadscarcelyreachedthefloor,andwasstillsittinginthemiddleofhistraveling-cloak,—likeafrogonawater-lilyleaf,ashisgodmotherhadexpressedit,—whenheheardhisnurse’svoiceoutside.
“Blessus!whathasbecomeofyourRoyalHighnessallthistime?
Tositstupidlyhereatthewindowtillitisquitedark,andleavetheskylightopen,too.Prince!whatcanyoubethinkingof?YouarethesilliestboyIeverknew.”
“AmI?”saidheabsently,andneverheedinghercrossness;forhisonlyanxietywaslestshemightfindoutanything.
Shewouldhavebeenaverycleverpersontohavedoneso.
TheinstantPrinceDolorgotoffit,thecloakfoldeditselfupintothetiniestpossibleparcel,tiedallitsownknots,androlleditselfofitsownaccordintothefarthestanddarkestcorneroftheroom.
Ifthenursehadseenit,whichshedidn’t,shewouldhavetakenitforamerebundleofrubbishnotworthnoticing.
Shuttingtheskylightwithanangrybang,shebroughtinthesupperandlitthecandleswithherusualunhappyexpressionofcountenance.
ButPrinceDolorhardlysawit;heonlysaw,hidinthecornerwherenobodyelsewouldseeit,hiswonderfultraveling-cloak.
Andthoughhissupperwasnotparticularlynice,heateitheartily,scarcelyhearingawordofhisnurse’sgrumbling,whichtonightseemedtohavetakentheplaceofhersullensilence.
“Poorwoman!”hethought,whenhepausedaminutetolistenandlookatherwiththosequiet,happyeyes,solikehismother’s.“Poorwoman!shehasn’tgotatraveling-cloak!”
Andwhenhewasleftaloneatlast,andcreptintohislittlebed,wherehelayawakeagoodwhile,watchingwhathecalledhis“sky-garden,”allplantedwithstars,likeflowers,hischiefthoughtwas—“Imustbeupveryearlyto-morrowmorning,andgetmylessonsdone,andthenI’llgotravelingallovertheworldonmybeautifulcloak.”
Sonextdayheopenedhiseyeswiththesun,andwentwithagoodhearttohislessons.
Theyhadhithertobeenthechiefamusementofhisdulllife;now,Iamafraid,hefoundthemalsoalittledull.
Buthetriedtobegood,—Idon’tsayPrinceDoloralwayswasgood,buthegenerallytriedtobe,—andwhenhismindwentwanderingafterthedark,dustycornerwherelayhisprecioustreasure,heresolutelycalleditbackagain.
“For,”hesaid,“howashamedmygodmotherwouldbeofmeifIgrewupastupidboy!”
Buttheinstantlessonsweredone,andhewasaloneintheemptyroom,hecreptacrossthefloor,undidtheshabbylittlebundle,hisfingerstremblingwitheagerness,climbedonthechair,andthencetothetable,soastounbartheskylight,—heforgotnothingnow,—saidhismagiccharm,andwasawayoutofthewindow,aschildrensay,“inafewminuteslessthannotime.”
Nobodymissedhim.Hewasaccustomedtositsoquietlyalwaysthathisnurse,thoughonlyinthenextroom,perceivednodifference.
Andbesides,shemighthavegoneinandoutadozentimes,anditwouldhavebeenjustthesame;shenevercouldhavefoundouthisabsence.
Forwhatdoyouthinktheclevergodmotherdid?
Shetookaquantityofmoonshine,orsomeequallyconvenientmaterial,andmadeanimage,whichshesetonthewindow-sillreading,orbythetabledrawing,whereitlookedsolikePrinceDolorthatanycommonobserverwouldneverhaveguessedthedeception;andeventheboywouldhavebeenpuzzledtoknowwhichwastheimageandwhichwashimself.
Andallthiswhilethehappylittlefellowwasaway,floatingintheaironhismagiccloak,andseeingallsortsofwonderfulthings—ortheyseemedwonderfultohim,whohadhithertoseennothingatall.
First,thereweretheflowersthatgrewontheplain,which,wheneverthecloakcamenearenough,hestrainedhiseyestolookat;theywereverytiny,butverybeautiful—whitesaxifrage,andyellowlotus,andground-thistles,purpleandbright,withmanyothersthenamesofwhichIdonotknow.
NomoredidPrinceDolor,thoughhetriedtofindthemoutbyrecallinganypictureshehadseenofthem.
Buthewastoofaroff;andthoughitwaspleasantenoughtoadmirethemasbrilliantpatchesofcolor,stillhewouldhavelikedtoexaminethemall.
Hewas,asalittlegirlIknowoncesaidofaplayfellow,“averyexaminingboy.”
“Iwonder,”hethought,“whetherIcouldseebetterthroughapairofglasseslikethosemynursereadswith,andtakessuchcareof.HowIwouldtakecareofthem,too,ifIonlyhadapair!”
Immediatelyhefeltsomethingstrangeandhardfixingitselftothebridgeofhisnose.
Itwasapairoftheprettiestgoldspectacleseverseen;andlookingdownward,hefoundthat,thougheversohighabovetheground,hecouldseeeveryminutebladeofgrass,everytinybudandflower—nay,eventheinsectsthatwalkedoverthem.
“Thankyou,thankyou!”hecried,inagushofgratitude—toanybodyoreverybody,butespeciallytohisdeargodmother,whohefeltsurehadgivenhimthisnewpresent.
Heamusedhimselfwithitforeversolong,withhischinpressedontherimofthecloak,gazingdownuponthegrass,everysquarefootofwhichwasamineofwonders.
Then,justtoresthiseyes,heturnedthemuptothesky—theblue,bright,emptysky,whichhehadlookedatsooftenandseennothing.
Nowsurelytherewassomething.Along,black,wavyline,movingoninthedistance,notbychance,asthecloudsmoveapparently,butdeliberately,asifitwerealive.
Hemighthaveseenitbefore—healmostthoughthehad;butthenhecouldnottellwhatitwas.
Lookingatitthroughhisspectacles,hediscoveredthatitreallywasalive;beingalongstringofbirds,flyingoneaftertheother,theirwingsmovingsteadilyandtheirheadspointedinonedirection,assteadilyasifeachwerealittleship,guidedinvisiblybyanunerringhelm.
“Theymustbethepassage-birdsflyingseaward!”
criedtheboy,whohadreadalittleaboutthem,andhadagreattalentforputtingtwoandtwotogetherandfindingoutallhecould.
“Oh,howIshouldliketoseethemquiteclose,andtoknowwheretheycomefromandwhithertheyaregoing!
HowIwishIkneweverythinginalltheworld!”
Asillyspeechforevenan“examining”littleboytomake;because,aswegrowolder,themoreweknowthemorewefindoutthereistoknow.
AndPrinceDolorblushedwhenhehadsaidit,andhopednobodyhadheardhim.
Apparentlysomebodyhad,however;forthecloakgaveasuddenboundforward,andpresentlyhefoundhimselfhighintheair,intheverymiddleofthatbandofaerialtravelers,whohadmomagiccloaktotravelon—nothingexcepttheirwings.
Yettheretheywere,makingtheirfearlesswaythroughthesky.
PrinceDolorlookedatthemasoneaftertheothertheyglidedpasthim;andtheylookedathim—thoseprettyswallows,withtheirchangingnecksandbrighteyes—asifwonderingtomeetinmid-airsuchanextraordinarysortofbird.
“Oh,IwishIweregoingwithyou,youlovelycreatures!
I’mgettingsotiredofthisdullplain,andthedrearyandlonelytower.Idosowanttoseetheworld!Prettyswallows,dearswallows!
tellmewhatitlookslike—thebeautiful,wonderfulworld!”
Buttheswallowsflewpasthim—steadily,slowlypursuingtheircourseasifinsideeachlittleheadhadbeenamariner’scompass,toguidethemsafeoverlandandsea,directtotheplacewheretheywishedtogo.
Theboylookedafterthemwithenvy.Foralongtimehefollowedwithhiseyesthefaint,wavyblacklineasitfloatedaway,sometimeschangingitscurvesalittle,butneverdeviatingfromitssettledcourse,tillitvanishedentirelyoutofsight.
Thenhesettledhimselfdowninthecenterofthecloak,feelingquitesadandlonely.
“IthinkI’llgohome,”saidhe,andrepeatedhis“Abracadabra,tumtumti!”witharatherheavyheart.
Themorehehad,themorehewanted;anditisnotalwaysonecanhaveeverythingonewants—atleast,attheexactminuteonecravesforit;noteventhoughoneisaprince,andhasapowerfulandbeneficentgodmother.
Hedidnotliketovexherbycallingforherandtellingherhowunhappyhewas,inspiteofallhergoodness;sohejustkepthistroubletohimself,wentbacktohislonelytower,andspentthreedaysinsilentmelancholy,withoutevenattemptinganotherjourneyonhistraveling-cloak.
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