The cat continued in this way for two or three months, from time to time presenting to the king game taken by his master. One day, when he knew for certain that the king would be taking the air beside the river with his daughter, the most beautiful princess in the world, he said to his master, “If you follow my advice, your fortune will be made. You have nothing to do but go and bathe yourself in the river where I show you, and leave the rest to me.”
The Marquis of Carabas did what the cat advised, without knowing why.
While he was bathing the king passed by, and the cat began to call out, as loudly as he could,
“Help, help, my lord, the Marquis of Carabas is drowning!”
When he heard the commotion the king stuck his head out of the window of his coach, and seeing that it was the cat who had so often brought him such good game, he ordered his guards to run immediately to the assistance of his lordship.
While they were pulling the poor marquis out of the river, the cat came up to the coach and told the king that while his master was bathing some rogues came along. They stole his clothes, even though he had called out, “Thieves, thieves!” several times, as loudly as he could. The cunning cat had hidden the clothes under a stone. The king immediately ordered the officers of his wardrobe to run and fetch one of his best suits for the lord Marquis of Carabas.
The king received the marquis with great kindness and, as the fine clothes he had given him set off his good looks (for he was well built and very handsome), the king’s daughter secretly took a fancy to him. The Marquis of Carabas had no sooner cast two or three respectful and somewhat tender glances in her direction, than she fell in love with him to distraction. The king invited the marquis to drive out with them in the coach to take the air with them. The cat, overjoyed to see his project beginning to succeed, marched on ahead and met with some farm workers, who were mowing a meadow.
He said to them, “Good people, you who are mowing, if you do not tell the king that the meadow you are mowing belongs to my lord, the Marquis of Carabas, you will all be chopped into mincemeat.”
When the king asked the mowers to whom the meadow belonged they all answered together, “To my lord, the Marquis of Carabas,” for the cat’s threats had made them terribly afraid.
“Truly a fine estate,” said the king to the Marquis of Carabas.
“As you can see, sir,” said the marquis, “this is a good meadow that never fails to yield an excellent harvest every year.”
The cat, who was still going on ahead, met with some reapers. He said to them, “Good people, you who are reaping, if you do not tell the king that all this corn belongs to my lord, the Marquis of Carabas, you will all be chopped into mincemeat.”
The king, who drove by a moment later, asked to whom all the corn belonged.
“To my lord, the Marquis of Carabas,” replied the reapers, and the king again congratulated the marquis.
“THE MARQUIS GAVE HIS HAND TO THE PRINCESS, AND FOLLOWED THE KING, WHO WENT UP FIRST”
The cat, who always went on ahead, said the same thing to everyone he met, and the king was astonished at the vast estate of his lordship the Marquis of Carabas.
Mr Puss came at last to a stately castle, the master of which was an ogre, the richest ever known, for all the lands that the king had just driven through belonged to this castle. The cat, who had made it his business to find out who this ogre was and what he could do, asked to speak to him, saying that he could not pass so near his castle without having the honour of paying his respects to him.
The ogre received him as politely as an ogre could, and made him sit down.
“I have been assured,” said the cat, “that you have the gift of being able to change yourself into all sorts of creatures that you have a mind to. You can, for example, transform yourself into a lion, or an elephant and suchlike.”
“This is true,” answered the ogre very briskly, “and to convince you, you will now see me become a lion.”
Puss was so terrified at the sight of a lion so near him that he jumped up into the gutter, not without a lot of difficulty and danger, because of his boots, which had not been designed for walking on roof tiles.
A little while afterwards, when he saw that the ogre had resumed his natural form, Puss came down and admitted that he had been very frightened.
“I’ve also been told,” said the cat, “but I’m not sure that I can believe it, that you also have the power to take on the shape of the smallest animals, for example, to change yourself into a rat or a mouse, but I must confess that I believe this to be impossible.”
“Impossible?” cried the ogre, “You will see it now!” And at the same time he changed into a mouse and began to run around the floor.
As soon as Puss saw this, he jumped on the mouse and ate him up.
Meanwhile, the king, who was passing this fine castle of the ogre’s, had a mind to go into it. Puss, who heard the noise of the coach running over the drawbridge, ran out and said to the king, “Your Majesty is welcome to this castle of my lord, the Marquis of Carabas.”
“What! My Lord Marquis?” cried the king, “And does this castle also belong to you? There can be nothing finer than this court, and all the stately buildings surrounding it. Let us go in, if you please.”
The marquis gave his hand to the princess, and followed the king, who went in first. They came into a spacious hall where they found a magnificent meal prepared by the ogre for his friends, who were supposed to visit him that very day, but didn’t dare enter while the king was there. The king was perfectly charmed with all the good qualities of his lordship the Marquis of Carabas, as was his daughter, who had fallen violently in love with the young man. Seeing the vast estate that he owned, the king said to him, after five or six glasses of wine, “It’s entirely up to you, Marquis, if you want to be my son-in-law. If you want my daughter’s hand in marriage I will gladly grant it.”
The marquis, bowing low several times, accepted the honour conferred on him by the king, and married the princess that very same day.
Puss became a great lord, and ran after mice only as an amusement.
THE MORAL
How advantageous it may be
By long descent of pedigree,
T’enjoy a great estate,
Yet knowledge how to act, we see,
Join’d with consummate industry,
(Nor wonder ye thereat)
Doth often prove a greater boon,
As should be to young people known.
ANOTHER
If the son of a miller so soon gains the heart
Of a beautiful princess, and makes her impart
Sweet languishing glances, eyes melting for love,
It must be remark’d of fine clothes how they move,
And that youth, a good face, a good air, with good mien,
Are not always indifferent mediums to win
The love of the fair, and gently inspire
The flames of sweet passion, and tender desire.
CINDERELLA
There was once a gentleman whose second wife was the haughtiest and most snobbish woman who had ever lived. She had two daughters by a previous husband, who took after her and were exactly like her in all things. Her husband, likewise, had a young daughter by his first wife, a girl who was unequalled in goodness and sweetness of temper, in which she took after her mother, who had been the best creature in the world.
No sooner were the wedding celebrations over than the stepmother began to show her true colours. She could not bear the good qualities of her pretty stepdaughter, the more so because they made her own daughters appear even worse. She kept her busy doing all the menial work in the house – she scoured the dishes, tables and floors and scrubbed her stepmother’s chamber and those of her stepsisters. She went to bed in a horrible garret on a straw mattress, while her sisters had fine rooms with inlaid floors, and beds of the latest fashion. They had looking-glasses so large that they could see themselves at their full length, from head t
o toe.
The poor girl put up with everything patiently, and dared not tell her father, who would have ignored her, for he was completely ruled by his wife. When she had done her work she used to go into the chimney corner and sit among the cinders and ashes, which soon meant that she was called Cinderpants. However, the younger sister, who was not as rude as her older sister, called her Cinderella. Despite her ragged clothes, Cinderella was 100 times more beautiful than her sisters, though they were always very richly dressed.
It happened that the king’s son gave a ball, and invited all the fashionable people to it. Our young ladies were also invited, for they cut a very fine figure among the quality. They were mightily delighted at the invitation, and busied themselves choosing those gowns, skirts and headdresses that would suit them best. This was a new trouble for Cinderella, for it was she who looked after her sisters’ clothes.
They talked all day long of nothing but what they would wear.
“For my part,” said the eldest, “I will wear my red velvet suit, with the French trimming.”
“And I,” said the youngest, “shall have only my usual skirt; but to make up for that I will wear my gold-flowered cape and my diamond bodice, which is not the most usual one in the world.”
They sent for the best lady’s maid they could get, to do their hair and fix their headdresses, and they bought their make-up and beauty patches from the fashionable makers.
They also called on Cinderella to advise them in all these matters, for she had excellent ideas and always gave them good advice. She offered her services to do their hair, which they were very willing to have her do. As she was doing this, they said to her,
“Cinderella, would you not like to go to the ball?”
“Oh,” she said, “you are mocking me. It is not for such as I to go there.”
“You’re right,” they replied, “it would make the people laugh to see a Cinderpants at a ball.”
Anyone other than Cinderella would have sabotaged their hairstyles, but she was very good, and did a perfect job. The sisters were so full of joyful anticipation that they didn’t eat for almost two days. They broke more than a dozen laces in trying to have their corsets so tightly laced that they would have a fine slender shape, and they were constantly at their looking-glasses. At last the happy day came – they went to court and Cinderella followed them with her eyes for as long as she could. As soon as they were out of sight she started to cry.
Her godmother, who saw her crying, asked her what was the matter.
“I wish I could . . . I wish I could . . .” but she was prevented by her tears from saying anything else.
This godmother of hers, who was a fairy, said to her, “Is it your wish to go to the ball?”
“Yes!” cried Cinderella, with a great sigh.
“Well,” said her godmother, “be a good girl and I will arrange things so that you can go.” Then she took her into her room and said,
“Run into the garden and bring me a pumpkin.”
Cinderella went immediately to get the finest pumpkin she could find and brought it to her godmother, although she couldn’t imagine how this pumpkin could make her go to the ball. Her godmother scooped out the inside of the pumpkin, leaving nothing but the rind, then she struck it with her wand and the pumpkin was turned into a fine coach, covered all over with gold leaf.
The fairy then went to look in her mouse trap, where she found six live mice. She ordered Cinderella to lift up the little trapdoor, and when she gave each mouse a little tap with her wand as it went out, it was transformed into a beautiful horse – the six mice made a very fine set of horses of a beautiful mouse-coloured dapple grey.
Being in need of a coachman, Cinderella said, “I will go and see if there is a rat in the rat trap, so that we can make a coachman of him.”
“That’s a good idea,” replied her godmother, “go and look.”
Cinderella brought the trap to her – in it were three huge rats. The fairy chose the one with the largest whiskers, and, having been touched with her wand, he was turned into a fat, jolly coachman, with the smartest whiskers ever seen.
After that, the fairy said to Cinderella, “Go into the garden again. You will find six lizards behind the watering can; bring them to me.”
As soon as she had done so her godmother turned the lizards into six footmen, their liveries decorated with gold and silver, who jumped up behind the coach and clung to it as closely as if they had done nothing else their whole lives.
The fairy then said to Cinderella, “Well, here you see a coach and six footmen fit to go to the ball with. Are you not pleased with it?”
“Oh, yes,” cried Cinderella, “but must I go as I am, in these nasty rags?”
Her godmother just touched her with her wand and immediately her clothes were turned into cloth of gold and silver, all sewn with jewels. She then gave her a pair of glass slippers, the prettiest in the whole world.
Thus decked out, Cinderella got into her coach, but her godmother commanded her not to stay past midnight, telling her that if she stayed at the ball one moment longer, her coach would be a pumpkin again, her horses would turn into mice, her coachman a rat, her footmen into lizards, and her clothes would become ragged again.
She promised her godmother that she would leave the ball by midnight, without fail. Then away she drove, hardly able to contain herself for joy. The king’s son, who was told that a great princess, whom nobody knew, had arrived, ran out to receive her. He gave her his hand as she alighted from the coach, and he led her into the hall, among all those present. Immediately there was a hush – everyone stopped dancing, the violins ceased to play – so attentively was everyone contemplating the beauty of this unknown newcomer. Then nothing was heard but a confused noise of, “Oh, how beautiful she is! Oh, how beautiful she is!”
The king himself, old as he was, could not help ogling her and saying to the queen that it was a long time since he had seen so beautiful and lovely a creature.
All the ladies were assessing her dress and headdress so that they could have some made next day to the same pattern, provided they could get such fine materials and find people skilled enough to make them.
The king’s son conducted Cinderella to the most honoured seat, and later took her out to dance with him. She danced so gracefully that all the guests admired her more and more. A fine meal was served, of which the prince ate not one bite, so intently was he gazing at her. Cinderella went and sat down with her sisters, showing them a thousand civilities and giving them some of the fruit with which the prince had presented her. This surprised them very much, for they did not know her.
“ANYONE BUT CINDERELLA WOULD HAVE DRESSED THEIR HEADS AWRY”
While Cinderella was amusing her sisters she heard the clock strike 11 and three quarters, so she immediately made a curtsey to the company and hurried away as fast as she could.
When she got home she ran to find her godmother and, having thanked her, said that she heartily wished she could go to the ball the next day, “because the king’s son had desired her”. As she was eagerly telling her godmother what had happened at the ball, her two sisters knocked at the door, and Cinderella ran to open it.
“How long you have stayed,” she said, gaping and rubbing her eyes, as if she had just woken up. She had not, however, had any kind of desire to sleep since they had left for the ball.
“If you had been at the ball,” said one of her sisters, “you would not have tired of it. The finest princess, the most beautiful ever, came to it. She was very civil to us and gave us fruit.” Cinderella was filled with joy. She asked them the name of the princess, but they told her that they did not know it, and that the king’s son was very anxious to learn it, and would give all the world to know who she was. Smiling, Cinderella replied, “She must be very beautiful indeed. Lord! How happy you must have been. Could I not see her? Dear Miss Charlotte, do lend me your yellow dress that you wear every day!”
“Oh, of course!” cried Miss
Charlotte, “Lend my clothes to a dirty Cinderpants like you! Who’s the fool then?”
Cinderella had expected some such answer and was very glad of the refusal, for she would have been put on the spot if her sister had lent her what she had asked for in jest.
The next day the two sisters were at the ball, and so was Cinderella, but dressed more magnificently than before. The king’s son never left her side, complimented her constantly and made loving speeches to her. This was so far from being annoying that she completely forgot what her godmother had commanded, and when she heard the clock striking 12, she thought it was no later than 11. She got up and fled as nimbly as a deer.
The prince followed but could not overtake her. She left behind one of her glass slippers, which the prince picked up very carefully. She got home but was completely out of breath, without coach or footmen, and wearing her nasty old clothes, having nothing left of all her finery but one of the little glass slippers, the match of the one that she had dropped. The guards at the palace gate were asked if they had seen the princess leave, but they said they had seen no one go out but a young girl, very poorly dressed, and who looked more like a poor peasant than a lady.
When the two sisters returned from the ball Cinderella asked them if they had had a pleasant time and if the fine lady had been there. They told her yes, but that she hurried away immediately when the clock struck 12, and in so much of a hurry that she dropped one of her little glass slippers, the prettiest in the world, and which the king’s son had picked up. He had done nothing but look at it for the rest of the evening, and he most certainly was in love with the beautiful person who owned the little slipper.
What they said was true, for a few days later the king’s son had it proclaimed that he would marry the lady whose foot this slipper would fit. His men began to try the slipper on the princesses, then the duchesses and all the court ladies, but in vain. It was brought to Cinderella’s two sisters, who did all they could to thrust their feet into the slipper, but they could not do it.
Classic Fairy Tales of Charles Perrault Page 4