CHAPTER 15
Woven and Then Spun
'Come in, Irene,' said the silvery voice of her grandmother.
The princess opened the door and peeped in. But the room was quitedark and there was no sound of the spinning-wheel. She grew frightenedonce more, thinking that, although the room was there, the old ladymight be a dream after all. Every little girl knows how dreadful it isto find a room empty where she thought somebody was; but Irene had tofancy for a moment that the person she came to find was nowhere at all.She remembered, however, that at night she spun only in the moonlight,and concluded that must be why there was no sweet, bee-like humming:the old lady might be somewhere in the darkness. Before she had timeto think another thought, she heard her voice again, saying as before:'Come in, Irene.' From the sound, she understood at once that she wasnot in the room beside her. Perhaps she was in her bedroom. Sheturned across the passage, feeling her way to the other door. When herhand fell on the lock, again the old lady spoke:
'Shut the other door behind you, Irene. I always close the door of myworkroom when I go to my chamber.'
Irene wondered to hear her voice so plainly through the door: havingshut the other, she opened it and went in. Oh, what a lovely haven toreach from the darkness and fear through which she had come! The softlight made her feel as if she were going into the heart of the milkiestpearl; while the blue walls and their silver stars for a momentperplexed her with the fancy that they were in reality the sky whichshe had left outside a minute ago covered with rainclouds.
'I've lighted a fire for you, Irene: you're cold and wet,' said hergrandmother.
Then Irene looked again, and saw that what she had taken for a hugebouquet of red roses on a low stand against the wall was in fact a firewhich burned in the shapes of the loveliest and reddest roses, glowinggorgeously between the heads and wings of two cherubs of shiningsilver. And when she came nearer, she found that the smell of roseswith which the room was filled came from the fire-roses on the hearth.Her grandmother was dressed in the loveliest pale blue velvet, overwhich her hair, no longer white, but of a rich golden colour, streamedlike a cataract, here falling in dull gathered heaps, there rushingaway in smooth shining falls. And ever as she looked, the hair seemedpouring down from her head and vanishing in a golden mist ere itreached the floor. It flowed from under the edge of a circle ofshining silver, set with alternated pearls and opals. On her dress wasno ornament whatever, neither was there a ring on her hand, or anecklace or carcanet about her neck. But her slippers glimmered withthe light of the Milky Way, for they were covered with seed-pearls andopals in one mass. Her face was that of a woman of three-and-twenty.
The princess was so bewildered with astonishment and admiration thatshe could hardly thank her, and drew nigh with timidity, feeling dirtyand uncomfortable. The lady was seated on a low chair by the side ofthe fire, with hands outstretched to take her, but the princess hungback with a troubled smile.
'Why, what's the matter?' asked her grandmother. 'You haven't beendoing anything wrong--I know that by your face, though it is rathermiserable. What's the matter, my dear?'
And she still held out her arms.
'Dear grandmother,' said Irene, 'I'm not so sure that I haven't donesomething wrong. I ought to have run up to you at once when thelong-legged cat came in at the window, instead of running out on themountain and making myself such a fright.'
'You were taken by surprise, my child, and you are not so likely to doit again. It is when people do wrong things wilfully that they are themore likely to do them again. Come.'
And still she held out her arms.
'But, grandmother, you're so beautiful and grand with your crown on;and I am so dirty with mud and rain! I should quite spoil yourbeautiful blue dress.'
With a merry little laugh the lady sprung from her chair, more lightlyfar than Irene herself could, caught the child to her bosom, and,kissing the tear-stained face over and over, sat down with her in herlap.
'Oh, grandmother! You'll make yourself such a mess!' cried Irene,clinging to her.
'You darling! do you think I care more for my dress than for my littlegirl? Besides--look here.'
As she spoke she set her down, and Irene saw to her dismay that thelovely dress was covered with the mud of her fall on the mountain road.But the lady stooped to the fire, and taking from it, by the stalk inher fingers, one of the burning roses, passed it once and again and athird time over the front of her dress; and when Irene looked, not asingle stain was to be discovered.
'There!' said her grandmother, 'you won't mind coming to me now?'
But Irene again hung back, eying the flaming rose which the lady heldin her hand.
'You're not afraid of the rose--are you?' she said, about to throw iton the hearth again.
'Oh! don't, please!' cried Irene. 'Won't you hold it to my frock andmy hands and my face? And I'm afraid my feet and my knees want it too.'
'No, answered her grandmother, smiling a little sadly, as she threw therose from her; 'it is too hot for you yet. It would set your frock ina flame. Besides, I don't want to make you clean tonight.
I want your nurse and the rest of the people to see you as you are, foryou will have to tell them how you ran away for fear of the long-leggedcat. I should like to wash you, but they would not believe you then.Do you see that bath behind you?'
The princess looked, and saw a large oval tub of silver, shiningbrilliantly in the light of the wonderful lamp.
'Go and look into it,' said the lady.
Irene went, and came back very silent with her eyes shining.
'What did you see?' asked her grandmother.
'The sky, and the moon and the stars,' she answered. 'It looked as ifthere was no bottom to it.'
The lady smiled a pleased satisfied smile, and was silent also for afew moments. Then she said:
'Any time you want a bath, come to me. I know YOU have a bath everymorning, but sometimes you want one at night, too.'
'Thank you, grandmother; I will--I will indeed,' answered Irene, andwas again silent for some moments thinking. Then she said: 'How wasit, grandmother, that I saw your beautiful lamp--not the light of itonly--but the great round silvery lamp itself, hanging alone in thegreat open air, high up? It was your lamp I saw--wasn't it?'
'Yes, my child--it was my lamp.'
'Then how was it? I don't see a window all round.'
'When I please I can make the lamp shine through the walls--shine sostrong that it melts them away from before the sight, and shows itselfas you saw it. But, as I told you, it is not everybody can see it.'
'How is it that I can, then? I'm sure I don't know.'
'It is a gift born with you. And one day I hope everybody will haveit.'
'But how do you make it shine through the walls?'
'Ah! that you would not understand if I were to try ever so much tomake you--not yet--not yet. But,' added the lady, rising, 'you mustsit in my chair while I get you the present I have been preparing foryou. I told you my spinning was for you. It is finished now, and I amgoing to fetch it. I have been keeping it warm under one of mybrooding pigeons.'
Irene sat down in the low chair, and her grandmother left her, shuttingthe door behind her. The child sat gazing, now at the rose fire, nowat the starry walls, now at the silver light; and a great quietnessgrew in her heart. If all the long-legged cats in the world had comerushing at her then she would not have been afraid of them for amoment. How this was she could not tell--she only knew there was nofear in her, and everything was so right and safe that it could not getin.
She had been gazing at the lovely lamp for some minutes fixedly:turning her eyes, she found the wall had vanished, for she was lookingout on the dark cloudy night. But though she heard the wind blowing,none of it blew upon her. In a moment more the clouds themselvesparted, or rather vanished like the wall, and she looked straight intothe starry herds, flashing gloriously in the dark blue. It was but fora moment. The cl
ouds gathered again and shut out the stars; the wallgathered again and shut out the clouds; and there stood the lady besideher with the loveliest smile on her face, and a shimmering ball in herhand, about the size of a pigeon's egg.
'There, Irene; there is my work for you!' she said, holding out theball to the princess.
She took it in her hand, and looked at it all over. It sparkled alittle, and shone here and there, but not much. It was of a sort ofgrey-whiteness, something like spun glass.
'Is this all your spinning, grandmother?' she asked.
'All since you came to the house. There is more there than you think.'
'How pretty it is! What am I to do with it, please?'
'That I will now explain to you,' answered the lady, turning from herand going to her cabinet. She came back with a small ring in her hand.Then she took the ball from Irene's, and did something with thering--Irene could not tell what.
'Give me your hand,' she said. Irene held up her right hand.
'Yes, that is the hand I want,' said the lady, and put the ring on theforefinger of it.
'What a beautiful ring!' said Irene. 'What is the stone called?'
'It is a fire-opal.' 'Please, am I to keep it?'
'Always.' 'Oh, thank you, grandmother! It's prettier than anything Iever saw, except those--of all colours-in your--Please, is that yourcrown?'
'Yes, it is my crown. The stone in your ring is of the same sort--onlynot so good. It has only red, but mine have all colours, you see.'
'Yes, grandmother. I will take such care of it! But--' she added,hesitating.
'But what?' asked her grandmother.
'What am I to say when Lootie asks me where I got it?'
'You will ask her where you got it,' answered the lady smiling.
'I don't see how I can do that.'
'You will, though.'
'Of course I will, if you say so. But, you know, I can't pretend notto know.'
'Of course not. But don't trouble yourself about it. You will seewhen the time comes.'
So saying, the lady turned, and threw the little ball into the rosefire.
'Oh, grandmother!' exclaimed Irene; 'I thought you had spun it for me.'
'So I did, my child. And you've got it.'
'No; it's burnt in the fire!'
The lady put her hand in the fire, brought out the ball, glimmering asbefore, and held it towards her. Irene stretched out her hand to takeit, but the lady turned and, going to her cabinet, opened a drawer, andlaid the ball in it.
'Have I done anything to vex you, grandmother?' said Irene pitifully.
'No, my darling. But you must understand that no one ever givesanything to another properly and really without keeping it. That ballis yours.'
'Oh! I'm not to take it with me! You are going to keep it for me!'
'You are to take it with you. I've fastened the end of it to the ringon your finger.'
Irene looked at the ring.
'I can't see it there, grandmother,' she said.
'Feel--a little way from the ring--towards the cabinet,' said the lady.
'Oh! I do feel it!' exclaimed the princess. 'But I can't see it,' sheadded, looking close to her outstretched hand.
'No. The thread is too fine for you to see it. You can only feel it.Now you can fancy how much spinning that took, although it does seemsuch a little ball.'
'But what use can I make of it, if it lies in your cabinet?'
'That is what I will explain to you. It would be of no use to you--itwouldn't be yours at all if it did not lie in my cabinet. Now listen.If ever you find yourself in any danger--such, for example, as you werein this same evening--you must take off your ring and put it under thepillow of your bed. Then you must lay your finger, the same that worethe ring, upon the thread, and follow the thread wherever it leads you.'
'Oh, how delightful! It will lead me to you, grandmother, I know!'
'Yes. But, remember, it may seem to you a very roundabout way indeed,and you must not doubt the thread. Of one thing you may be sure, thatwhile you hold it, I hold it too.'
'It is very wonderful!' said Irene thoughtfully. Then suddenlybecoming aware, she jumped up, crying:
'Oh, grandmother! here have I been sitting all this time in your chair,and you standing! I beg your pardon.'
The lady laid her hand on her shoulder, and said:
'Sit down again, Irene. Nothing pleases me better than to see anyonesit in my chair. I am only too glad to stand so long as anyone willsit in it.'
'How kind of you!' said the princess, and sat down again.
'It makes me happy,' said the lady.
'But,' said Irene, still puzzled, 'won't the thread get in somebody'sway and be broken, if the one end is fast to my ring, and the otherlaid in your cabinet?'
'You will find all that arrange itself. I am afraid it is time for youto go.'
'Mightn't I stay and sleep with you tonight, grandmother?' 'No, nottonight. If I had meant you to stay tonight, I should have given you abath; but you know everybody in the house is miserable about you, andit would be cruel to keep them so all night. You must go downstairs.'
'I'm so glad, grandmother, you didn't say "Go home," for this is myhome. Mayn't I call this my home?'
'You may, my child. And I trust you will always think it your home.Now come. I must take you back without anyone seeing you.'
'Please, I want to ask you one question more,' said Irene. 'Is itbecause you have your crown on that you look so young?'
'No, child,' answered her grandmother; 'it is because I felt so youngthis evening that I put my crown on. And I thought you would like tosee your old grandmother in her best.'
'Why do you call yourself old? You're not old, grandmother.'
'I am very old indeed. It is so silly of people--I don't mean you, foryou are such a tiny, and couldn't know better--but it is so silly ofpeople to fancy that old age means crookedness and witheredness andfeebleness and sticks and spectacles and rheumatism and forgetfulness!It is so silly! Old age has nothing whatever to do with all that. Theright old age means strength and beauty and mirth and courage and cleareyes and strong painless limbs. I am older than you are able to think,and--'
'And look at you, grandmother!' cried Irene, jumping up and flingingher arms about her neck. 'I won't be so silly again, I promise you.At least--I'm rather afraid to promise--but if I am, I promise to besorry for it--I do. I wish I were as old as you, grandmother. I don'tthink you are ever afraid of anything.'
'Not for long, at least, my child. Perhaps by the time I am twothousand years of age, I shall, indeed, never be afraid of anything.But I confess I have sometimes been afraid about my children--sometimesabout you, Irene.'
'Oh, I'm so sorry, grandmother! Tonight, I suppose, you mean.'
'Yes--a little tonight; but a good deal when you had all but made upyour mind that I was a dream, and no real great-great-grandmother. Youmust not suppose I am blaming you for that. I dare say you could nothelp it.'
'I don't know, grandmother,' said the princess, beginning to cry. 'Ican't always do myself as I should like. And I don't always try. I'mvery sorry anyhow.'
The lady stooped, lifted her in her arms, and sat down with her in herchair, holding her close to her bosom. In a few minutes the princesshad sobbed herself to sleep. How long she slept I do not know. Whenshe came to herself she was sitting in her own high chair at thenursery table, with her doll's house before her.
The Princess and the Goblin Page 15