The Princess and the Goblin

by George MacDonald

  CHAPTER 23

  Curdie and His Mother

  Curdie went up the mountain neither whistling nor singing, for he wasvexed with Irene for taking him in, as he called it; and he was vexedwith himself for having spoken to her so angrily. His mother gave acry of joy when she saw him, and at once set about getting himsomething to eat, asking him questions all the time, which he did notanswer so cheerfully as usual. When his meal was ready, she left himto eat it, and hurried to the mine to let his father know he was safe.When she came back, she found him fast asleep upon her bed; nor did hewake until his father came home in the evening.

  'Now, Curdie,' his mother said, as they sat at supper, 'tell us thewhole story from beginning to end, just as it all happened.'

  Curdie obeyed, and told everything to the point where they came outupon the lawn in the garden of the king's house.

  'And what happened after that?' asked his mother. 'You haven't told usall. You ought to be very happy at having got away from those demons,and instead of that I never saw you so gloomy. There must be somethingmore. Besides, you do not speak of that lovely child as I should liketo hear you. She saved your life at the risk of her own, and yetsomehow you don't seem to think much of it.'

  'She talked such nonsense' answered Curdie, 'and told me a pack ofthings that weren't a bit true; and I can't get over it.'

  'What were they?' asked his father. 'Your mother may be able to throwsome light upon them.'

  Then Curdie made a clean breast of it, and told them everything.

  They all sat silent for some time, pondering the strange tale. At lastCurdie's mother spoke.

  'You confess, my boy,' she said, 'there is something about the wholeaffair you do not understand?'

  'Yes, of course, mother,' he answered. 'I cannot understand how achild knowing nothing about the mountain, or even that I was shut up init, should come all that way alone, straight to where I was; and then,after getting me out of the hole, lead me out of the mountain too,where I should not have known a step of the way if it had been as lightas in the open air.'

  'Then you have no right to say what she told you was not true. She didtake you out, and she must have had something to guide her: why not athread as well as a rope, or anything else? There is something youcannot explain, and her explanation may be the right one.'

  'It's no explanation at all, mother; and I can't believe it.'

  'That may be only because you do not understand it. If you did, youwould probably find it was an explanation, and believe it thoroughly.I don't blame you for not being able to believe it, but I do blame youfor fancying such a child would try to deceive you. Why should she?Depend upon it, she told you all she knew. Until you had found a betterway of accounting for it all, you might at least have been more sparingof your judgement.'

  'That is what something inside me has been saying all the time,' saidCurdie, hanging down his head. 'But what do you make of thegrandmother? That is what I can't get over. To take me up to an oldgarret, and try to persuade me against the sight of my own eyes that itwas a beautiful room, with blue walls and silver stars, and no end ofthings in it, when there was nothing there but an old tub and awithered apple and a heap of straw and a sunbeam! It was too bad! Shemight have had some old woman there at least to pass for her preciousgrandmother!'

  'Didn't she speak as if she saw those other things herself, Curdie?'

  'Yes. That's what bothers me. You would have thought she really meantand believed that she saw every one of the things she talked about.And not one of them there! It was too bad, I say.'

  'Perhaps some people can see things other people can't see, Curdie,'said his mother very gravely. 'I think I will tell you something I sawmyself once--only Perhaps You won't believe me either!'

  'Oh, mother, mother!' cried Curdie, bursting into tears; 'I don'tdeserve that, surely!'

  'But what I am going to tell you is very strange,' persisted hismother; 'and if having heard it you were to say I must have beendreaming, I don't know that I should have any right to be vexed withyou, though I know at least that I was not asleep.'

  'Do tell me, mother. Perhaps it will help me to think better of theprincess.'

  'That's why I am tempted to tell you,' replied his mother. 'But first,I may as well mention that, according to old whispers, there issomething more than common about the king's family; and the queen wasof the same blood, for they were cousins of some degree. There werestrange stories told concerning them--all good stories--but strange,very strange. What they were I cannot tell, for I only remember thefaces of my grandmother and my mother as they talked together aboutthem. There was wonder and awe--not fear--in their eyes, and theywhispered, and never spoke aloud. But what I saw myself was this: Yourfather was going to work in the mine one night, and I had been downwith his supper. It was soon after we were married, and not very longbefore you were born. He came with me to the mouth of the mine, andleft me to go home alone, for I knew the way almost as well as thefloor of our own cottage. It was pretty dark, and in some parts of theroad where the rocks overhung nearly quite dark. But I got alongperfectly well, never thinking of being afraid, until I reached a spotyou know well enough, Curdie, where the path has to make a sharp turnout of the way of a great rock on the left-hand side. When I gotthere, I was suddenly surrounded by about half a dozen of the cobs, thefirst I had ever seen, although I had heard tell of them often enough.One of them blocked up the path, and they all began tormenting andteasing me in a way it makes me shudder to think of even now.'

  'If I had only been with you!' cried father and son in a breath.

  The mother gave a funny little smile, and went on.

  'They had some of their horrible creatures with them too, and I mustconfess I was dreadfully frightened. They had torn my clothes verymuch, and I was afraid they were going to tear myself to pieces, whensuddenly a great white soft light shone upon me. I looked up. A broadray, like a shining road, came down from a large globe of silverylight, not very high up, indeed not quite so high as the horizon--so itcould not have been a new star or another moon or anything of thatsort. The cobs dropped persecuting me, and looked dazed, and I thoughtthey were going to run away, but presently they began again. The samemoment, however, down the path from the globe of light came a bird,shining like silver in the sun. It gave a few rapid flaps first, andthen, with its wings straight out, shot, sliding down the slope of thelight. It looked to me just like a white pigeon. But whatever it was,when the cobs caught sight of it coming straight down upon them, theytook to their heels and scampered away across the mountain, leaving mesafe, only much frightened. As soon as it had sent them off, the birdwent gliding again up the light, and the moment it reached the globethe light disappeared, just as if a shutter had been closed over awindow, and I saw it no More. But I had no more trouble with the cobsthat night or ever after.'

  'How strange!' exclaimed Curdie.

  'Yes, it was strange; but I can't help believing it, whether you do ornot,' said his mother.

  'It's exactly as your mother told it to me the very next morning,' saidhis father.

  'You don't think I'm doubting my own mother?' cried Curdie. 'There areother people in the world quite as well worth believing as your ownmother,' said his mother. 'I don't know that she's so much the fitterto be believed that she happens to be your mother, Mr. Curdie. Thereare mothers far more likely to tell lies than the little girl I sawtalking to the primroses a few weeks ago. If she were to lie I shouldbegin to doubt my own word.'

  'But princesses have told lies as well as other people,' said Curdie.

  'Yes, but not princesses like that child. She's a good girl, I amcertain, and that's more than being a princess. Depend upon it youwill have to be sorry for behaving so to her, Curdie. You ought atleast to have held your tongue.'

  'I am sorry now,' answered Curdie.

  'You ought to go and tell her so, then.'

  'I don't see how I could manage that. They wouldn't let a miner boyli
ke me have a word with her alone; and I couldn't tell her before thatnurse of hers. She'd be asking ever so many questions, and I don'tknow how many the little princess would like me to answer. She told methat Lootie didn't know anything about her coming to get me out of themountain. I am certain she would have prevented her somehow if she hadknown it. But I may have a chance before long, and meantime I must tryto do something for her. I think, father, I have got on the track atlast.'

  'Have you, indeed, my boy?' said Peter. 'I am sure you deserve somesuccess; you have worked very hard for it. What have you found out?'

  'It's difficult, you know, father, inside the mountain, especially inthe dark, and not knowing what turns you have taken, to tell the lie ofthings outside.'

  'Impossible, my boy, without a chart, or at least a compass,' returnedhis father.

  'Well, I think I have nearly discovered in what direction the cobs aremining. If I am right, I know something else that I can put to it, andthen one and one will make three.'

  'They very often do, Curdie, as we miners ought to be very well aware.Now tell us, my boy, what the two things are, and see whether we canguess at the same third as you.'

  'I don't see what that has to do with the princess,' interposed hismother.

  'I will soon let you see that, mother. Perhaps you may think mefoolish, but until I am sure there, is nothing in my present fancy, Iam more determined than ever to go on with my observations. Just as wecame to the channel by which we got out, I heard the miners at worksomewhere near--I think down below us. Now since I began to watchthem, they have mined a good half-mile, in a straight line; and so faras I am aware, they are working in no other part of the mountain. ButI never could tell in what direction they were going. When we came outin the king's garden, however, I thought at once whether it waspossible they were working towards the king's house; and what I want todo tonight is to make sure whether they are or not. I will take alight with me--'

  'Oh, Curdie,' cried his mother, 'then they will see you.'

  'I'm no more afraid of them now than I was before,' rejoined Curdie,'now that I've got this precious shoe. They can't make another such ina hurry, and one bare foot will do for my purpose. Woman as she may be,I won't spare her next time. But I shall be careful with my light, forI don't want them to see me. I won't stick it in my hat.'

  'Go on, then, and tell us what you mean to do.'

  'I mean to take a bit of paper with me and a pencil, and go in at themouth of the stream by which we came out. I shall mark on the paper asnear as I can the angle of every turning I take until I find the cobsat work, and so get a good idea in what direction they are going. Ifit should prove to be nearly parallel with the stream, I shall know itis towards the king's house they are working.'

  'And what if you should? How much wiser will you be then?'

  'Wait a minute, mother dear. I told you that when I came upon theroyal family in the cave, they were talking of their prince--Harelip,they called him--marrying a sun-woman--that means one of us--one withtoes to her feet. Now in the speech one of them made that night attheir great gathering, of which I heard only a part, he said that peacewould be secured for a generation at least by the pledge the princewould hold for the good behaviour of her relatives: that's what hesaid, and he must have meant the sun-woman the prince was to marry. Iam quite sure the king is much too proud to wish his son to marry anybut a princess, and much too knowing to fancy that his having a peasantwoman for a wife would be of any great advantage to them.'

  'I see what you are driving at now,' said his mother.

  'But,' said his father, 'our king would dig the mountain to the plainbefore he would have his princess the wife of a cob, if he were tentimes a prince.'

  'Yes; but they think so much of themselves!' said his mother. 'Smallcreatures always do. The bantam is the proudest cock in my littleyard.'

  'And I fancy,' said Curdie, 'if they once got her, they would tell theking they would kill her except he consented to the marriage.'

  'They might say so,' said his father, 'but they wouldn't kill her; theywould keep her alive for the sake of the hold it gave them over ourking. Whatever he did to them, they would threaten to do the same tothe princess.'

  'And they are bad enough to torment her just for their own amusement--Iknow that,' said his mother.

  'Anyhow, I will keep a watch on them, and see what they are up to,'said Curdie. 'It's too horrible to think of. I daren't let myself doit. But they shan't have her--at least if I can help it. So, motherdear--my clue is all right--will you get me a bit of paper and a penciland a lump of pease pudding, and I will set out at once. I saw a placewhere I can climb over the wall of the garden quite easily.'

  'You must mind and keep out of the way of the men on the watch,' saidhis mother.

  'That I will. I don't want them to know anything about it. They wouldspoil it all. The cobs would only try some other plan--they are suchobstinate creatures! I shall take good care, mother. They won't killand eat me either, if they should come upon me. So you needn't mindthem.'

  His mother got him what he had asked for, and Curdie set out. Closebeside the door by which the princess left the garden for the mountainstood a great rock, and by climbing it Curdie got over the wall. Hetied his clue to a stone just inside the channel of the stream, andtook his pickaxe with him. He had not gone far before he encountered ahorrid creature coming towards the mouth. The spot was too narrow fortwo of almost any size or shape, and besides Curdie had no wish to letthe creature pass. Not being able to use his pickaxe, however, he hada severe struggle with him, and it was only after receiving many bites,some of them bad, that he succeeded in killing him with hispocket-knife. Having dragged him out, he made haste to get in againbefore another should stop up the way.

  I need not follow him farther in this night's adventures. He returnedto his breakfast, satisfied that the goblins were mining in thedirection of the palace--on so low a level that their intention must,he thought, be to burrow under the walls of the king's house, and riseup inside it--in order, he fully believed, to lay hands on the littleprincess, and carry her off for a wife to their horrid Harelip.