Wonder Tales Page 15

  Men have schemed to destroy me, she said to herself, and the only man I might turn to is not in a position to help me; so why not put these creatures to the test? They are perhaps less barbarous. Besides, I have little hope of escaping: I can only appeal to them to protect me. After these brief reflections, the princess lifted her eyes modestly and addressed the centaurs.

  My friends, she said, you see before you an unhappy girl who is trying to escape the anger of a powerful king. Grant me refuge in your midst. All I can offer you in return is gratitude, and my friendship, if you will accept it.

  The centaurs were not especially given to paying compliments, but they were open and sincere; they replied that they would be delighted if she would stay with them, and that they would protect her with pleasure.

  Then one of them told her to climb on its back, the others helped her, and the whole group set off. They took Starlight to a vast cavern where a number of centauresses lived: she was placed in their care.

  The centauresses received Starlight with great joy and did everything to make her comfortable. Every day they arranged different entertainments for her, such as hunting, fishing, and jousting between the strongest of the centaurs. Starlight gave out the prizes – a flower, a crown of oak-leaves – and they received them from her hand with more satisfaction than if they had won an empire.

  As they loved and respected her, they were genuinely sorry to see her always so sad and lonely, and one day, they asked her to tell them the reason for her sorrow. Starlight trusted them and couldn’t refuse. When they heard her story, they were deeply touched, and the princess, taking advantage of their sympathy, added: Since you are so well disposed towards me, one of you must go to the court and invite Izmir to come to hunt a white doe with silver feet who has taken refuge in this forest; he will immediately understand what is meant. She was unable to continue, and shed torrents of tears. The centaurs were coarse, but they were good-natured and warm-hearted; they swore not only to carry out her errand, but also to devastate her persecutor’s kingdom, and even put him to death if she wanted.

  God forbid, cried the princess, that I should use your friendship to take my revenge in such a way. Izmir’s father will always be respected by Starlight, and I would give my life to defend his.

  The centaurs’ feelings were by nature simple and upright, and this generous sentiment gave them new cause to respect Starlight. One of them was chosen to go to King Peacemaker’s court; as his mind was sharp and he was full of good sense, Starlight had reason to hope that his mission would succeed.

  Meanwhile, with the help of the centaurs, she built for herself a little cabin to which she often withdrew to give vent to her tears for her lover’s sake. The forest was so dense and so full of centaurs that no one dared come near. According to an old tradition which was repeated throughout the whole country, they ate men: this universal terror ensured the particular safety of the princess. She lived there in the deepest tranquillity, disturbed only by the pangs of an unquiet love.

  The centaur chosen as an envoy soon reached the capital city. He heard that, when Izmir was released from the tower, he had at once fallen into a mood so black that the doctors despaired of curing him. The king, it seemed, deeply anxious about the state of his kingdom, invented fresh entertainments every day to dispel his son’s melancholy; but the prince took no part in them, refused to see anyone, and shut himself away most of the time.

  The centaur had no difficulty in diagnosing Izmir’s illness. As he wanted to avoid betraying his secret, he decided to present himself boldly in the king’s gardens, hoping that this would attract Izmir’s curiosity. The sight of such an extraordinary creature caused a great stir at court, and considerable alarm. The centaur walked gravely up and down, bowing to those who dared to look out of the windows. At first, people talked of killing him; but, apart from the fact that this would not have been easy, they were afraid that the other centaurs would come and avenge his death, so the project was abandoned.

  He appeared every day at the same times, fed on fruit, and slept on a well-kept lawn at the far end of the palace gardens.

  Eventually, certain court personages who were braver than the others took the risk of approaching him, and even shared his walks. This show of audacity was regarded as sublimely courageous: ever since the centaur had taken the garden over, no one had been seen there. People now began to come closer. They offered him milk and fruit; he ate and drank, and gracefully expressed his thanks. This easy familiarity was considered most charming. Everyone came running to join in, and the company became so numerous that the centaur occasionally found that it was a little too much for him. They talked to him and asked him all kinds of questions: as his answers were rather ambiguous, it was soon being said that he was amazingly clever. Those who understood him least praised him most; some fools learnt his sayings by heart, and bigger fools wrote them down. That is the origin of all those books that people only pretend to understand, and of the form of speech that was later called persiflage, a word no academy has so far been able to define.

  These absurdities amused the centaur for a while, but he soon grew weary of being so much in fashion, and of not seeing Izmir. His reputation became firmly established, as has happened to many people, by the very thing that should have made him lose it. He was the only one to be astonished by this phenomenon: he had not yet learnt that there are times of madness when the fools set the tone, just as there are ages when reason and good sense prevail because the fools are taking a rest or have fallen into their second childhood.

  The marvellous centaur was talked about so much, and his sayings were so often repeated, that even Izmir in his solitude came to hear of it. He paid little attention at first, but he was so exasperated by the few people whom he permitted to see him that he went down one morning into the gardens. The crowd that surrounded the centaur fell back a little out of respect, and people cried out: Give way, give way to the prince. Even without these cries, the centaur would have recognised Izmir, for Starlight had painted him to the life. The prince found the yellow centaur a wonderful specimen of his kind; the centaur marvelled no less at Izmir’s graceful and majestic bearing.

  Sire, he said with a bow, I have long wished to count myself as one of your friends, and I have come to ask you to grant me a favour. The prince gestured to the crowd to move still further away, and replied in the friendliest terms. The centaur, not wishing to make Starlight’s secret too public, suggested that Izmir should come to their forest to hunt the doe with silver feet.

  The prince, inspired by the illuminating power of love, immediately solved the riddle. He was astonished that Starlight had not been devoured by the centaurs, among whom, as he realised, she had taken refuge. He gazed deep into the centaur’s eyes, in order to see to the very bottom of his soul; finding him calm and unruffled, he promised to set out the next morning at daybreak to hunt in the yellow forest, if the centaur would show him the way.

  That is my plan, sire, replied the centaur; but come alone, and allow my compatriots to guarantee your safety. You’ll find that you have no better friends in the world.

  Izmir gave the centaur countless assurances of good will, and spent the rest of the day with him inquiring about the manners, laws and customs of the centaur race. Charmed by their emissary, he was reluctant to leave his side; he took his supper with him and lay down to sleep next to him on the lawn. The centaur was delighted with this show of trust, and, seeing that they were alone, at last revealed to Izmir the whole secret of his embassy. The name of Starlight was often on his lips; Izmir felt as if he would die of joy, and hardly knew how to express his gratitude. He was unable to sleep that night: dawn, it seemed to him, was too slow in coming. At the first glimmer of daylight he woke the good centaur, who – as he was not in love – was still fast asleep.

  The prince had himself and the centaur magnificently armed; then he mounted him and they made off with all speed. As they went, Izmir promised that as soon as his father had pardoned him for m
arrying Starlight, he would send an embassy to seal a lasting peace with the centaur republic, and would choose a thousand of them for his personal guard. The conversation frequently reverted to the princess, and when the yellow forest came within sight, Izmir was racked with violent emotions. They thrust their way with extreme difficulty into the thick of the woods. The prince would take not a moment’s rest, and they came at last to Starlight’s little cabin; she was there. As soon as the tender lovers caught sight of one another, they ran into each other’s arms, fell into a close embrace, and surrendered to the pleasure of being together again. Their tenderness so captivated the centaurs and centauresses that their eyes filled with tears. Starlight noticed that Izmir had been injured by the sharp thorns with which the entrance to the forest bristled. She made him lie down on a bed of grass in her little hut, fed him, and, with her delicate white hands, applied to his wounds certain herbs whose healing power she had learnt from the centauresses. She would never allow anyone to share these tender ministrations with her. Soon Izmir was cured: love often cures those who are more gravely ill. The prince was perfectly happy to stay with his mistress among the good centaurs; but Starlight would only receive his faith, and give him hers, with the consent of those to whom she owed her existence. Except for that, their happiness was unmarred.

  Izmir saw that the princess was determined to carry out her plan. He suggested that they should put to sea, and Starlight agreed, convinced that the fairy would guide them. They announced their departure. The centaurs were genuinely distressed to see them go, but they accompanied Izmir and Starlight as far as the seashore. The young people left behind them in that wild place a memory of their charm and virtue which tradition still preserves.

  They did not need to wait long on the shore, for they soon noticed the prettiest ship in the world standing at anchor. When they came closer, they were astonished to see that it was made of cedar and rosewood; the rigging consisted of garlands of flowers, and the sails were of gold muslin embroidered all over with great cats. A hundred white angoras were the sailors. Starlight had no difficulty in guessing that this marvellous ship was another sign of Fairy Ermine-White’s bounty. She invited the young prince to embark, and they set foot on board together to the accompaniment of much mewing from the cats, who set up a tremendous racket to celebrate the couple’s arrival.

  The young lovers had no reason to regret their trust in the fairy. The ship was well stocked not only with all the necessities, but also with splendid and elegant clothes in every possible colour and for every season. The ship put to sea and was driven along by a favourable wind. The white cats were wonderful sailors, and when the weather was calm, they gave superb concerts on fine instruments; the princess, to amuse herself, got them to teach her to play the guitar.

  Izmir was delighted to be able to see the princess at all hours of the day without others being present and told her endlessly of his love. Every time he spoke, she felt she was hearing him for the first time, and she replied with pledges of eternal affection. They were apart only at night, and were as impatient to see one another again the next day as if they had suffered the hardship of a long absence.

  It was difficult to keep a secret amid all these expressions of love. Izmir noticed that Starlight always suppressed certain details when she told the story of her imprisonment. He complained so tenderly and pressed her so hard that Starlight could not help confessing that Fairy Ermine-White had revealed the secret of her birth, and she finally told him what the fairy had so insisted she should keep hidden. She congratulated herself for letting her lover into the secret, but she soon suffered for it: the sea rose up in fury, thick clouds covered the sky, lightning flashed horribly and frightful clashes of thunder rent the air.

  Starlight saw only too clearly that the fairy was taking her revenge. She implored her to relent and punish no one but her, since she alone was guilty. She scorned to make use of the box that Ermine-White had given her: although it would have saved her own life, it might perhaps not have saved her lover’s. Instead, she ran to him and threw herself into his arms so that she would at least have the pleasure of expiring with him. Izmir urged her in vain to open the box. Since it can only save me, she replied, I regard it as useless. Hardly had she said these words when the thunder fell on the ship with a terrible crash and cast it down into the depths of the sea. The two lovers rose to the surface, clasped tightly together, and were swept away by the current. A wave separated them; the darkness of the night and the wildness of the sea prevented them from finding one another again, and they were carried separately into different countries.

  Izmir had fainted with grief. He floated on the surface until he was seen by some fishermen, who jumped into the sea and took him home with them.

  The country where he was cast up was called Quietlife Island. Not a sound was to be heard there; everyone spoke in whispers and walked on tiptoe. There were no quarrels, and hardly any wars. When it became absolutely impossible to avoid engaging in combat, only the ladies fought, throwing crab-apples from a distance. The men kept well away: they slept until midday, plied their spinning wheels, tied pretty bows, took the children for walks, and made their faces up with rouge and beauty spots. They nursed Izmir with such gentle care that he soon recovered and opened his eyes. When he saw these men all round him, but no sign of Starlight, he yelled so loudly that he frightened the fishermen. They stopped their ears and signalled to him to keep his voice down. So he told them in whispers the reason for his despair, and the good people cried their eyes out. Just then, however, their wives, who had been out hunting, came home and told them to go away. Izmir explained why their husbands had been so upset, and they offered him their sympathy with marked firmness, even with a touch of severity. Izmir spent the night in the hut. The next day, as a mark of gratitude for the hospitality he had been shown, he gave these masterful women heaps of jewels; they took no interest in them and passed them on to their husbands.

  The prince left; crossing a vast plain, he reached a town built entirely of rock crystal and shining like the sun. He went in, hoping to find his darling Starlight there, and made his way through many streets; he met hardly a soul. Eventually, he came to a superb palace made of the most beautiful crystal ever seen and entered the courtyard to take a rest. He sat there on a bench gazing at this magnificent building; then he walked round it several times, but was astonished to find no door.

  The people of the country didn’t care for doors because they made too much noise. When someone visited them, they would let down silk ladders, and the visitor would enter through the windows, leaving by the same route. They had no staircases either: it would have been too easy to come and see them. They regarded all visits as tiresome, tedious and superfluous.

  This palace was the king’s residence. His ministers, absorbed in the important task of teaching the baby princesses to walk, caught sight of Izmir. He was magnificently dressed, and they imagined that he must be some foreign ambassador. They immediately put the princesses back in their cradles and, letting down a huge blue velvet bag suspended on silk cords, signalled to the prince to get in. Izmir understood, and was at once hauled up into a luxuriously furnished apartment.

  There he saw, as he came closer, a canopied bed; the bed-curtains were of some rich fabric, and were hung on purple and gold cords. Twenty phials in which the choicest of perfumes were burning surrounded the bed; the monarch, lying at his ease, was listening attentively as his chancellor read him the story of Bluebeard.

  Izmir was astonished to see this man with a wonderfully rounded figure, a bright pink complexion and a crown on his head, and he could not doubt that this was the king.

  Sire, he said, with a chivalrous bow, I trust you are not ill? No, my child, he replied in a low voice, I’m in the best of health. I’m just having a little rest while the queen is out at the wars.

  Shame on you, Izmir replied sharply; how can you do such a thing? You let your wife go and fight in the wars while you take your ease? It’s quite u
nforgivable. My son, the king replied, those have been our laws and customs since time immemorial. If you wish, my chancellor will read them to you; as for me, I’ve never felt inclined to make the effort to learn them.

  This spectacle of cowardice threw Izmir into a noble fury. He seized a stout lance, which was the only one that existed in the whole empire and was in any case never used, and with it he gave the effeminate king a thorough beating. Then he pulled the bedcovers off with some violence and threw them out of the window.

  He was about to do the same thing to the chancellor and ministers, but they began to cry in unison with their beloved master and begged Izmir to calm down. As he was naturally kind-hearted, he soon relented; but he said to the king: Sire, if you don’t promise to abolish your absurd customs and go to war like other kings, I shall knock down your fine crystal palace. I shall be glad to go with you, but it must be right away, otherwise I shall beat the living daylights out of you, your chancellor, and those vermin you call ministers.

  I leave to your imagination the fright he gave them. The poor king, crying his eyes out, swore to do anything Izmir wanted: he was afraid he would get a second dose of that terrible lance, which Izmir was brandishing in an extremely martial fashion.

  The king equipped himself with the queen’s arms, and climbed into the bag with Izmir. The finest horse in the stables was brought for Izmir; the king mounted another, and they galloped off as fast as they could to join the army. The queen, at the head of a sizeable squad of ladies, was valiantly defending a bridge across a little river, on the other side of which the enemy was drawn up in battle formation. Crab-apples were flying in all directions; those who suffered the slightest injury withdrew from the fight.