Read Ebook: The Pictorial Field-Book of the Revolution Vol. 1 (of 2) or Illustrations by Pen And Pencil of the History Biography Scenery Relics and Traditions of the War for Independence by Lossing Benson John

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Ebook has 5271 lines and 569157 words, and 106 pages

A good hundred years old he was, his beard hung down to his girdle, and generally he sat reading the historical scrolls of the kingdom, which his ministers brought him every day.

But in the evening Psyche climbed on to his knees and nestled in his beard, or sat at his feet in the folds of his tabard, and the scroll fell to the ground, and crumpled up, and the withered hand of the mighty monarch stroked the head of his third child, the princess with the little wings.

"Father, dear," asked Psyche once; "why have I wings, and cannot fly?"

"You need not fly, child; you are much safer with me than if you were a little bird in the air."

"But why then have I wings?"

"I don't quite know, my child...."

"Why have I wings, and Astra a living star upon her head, and Emeralda eyes of jewels?"

"Because you are princesses; they are different from other girls."

"And why, dear father," whispered Psyche, secretly, "has Emeralda a heart of ruby?..."

"No child, that she has not. She has, it is true, eyes of emerald, because she is a princess--as Astra has a star and you two pretty wings--but she has a human heart."

"No, father, dear, she has a heart of stone."

"But who says so, my child?"

"The nurse does, father, her own pages, the guards at the gates, and the wise men who come to Astra."

The king was very sad. He and his daughter looked deep into each other's eyes, and embraced each other, for the king was sad, on account of what he saw in the future, and Psyche was frightened: she always trembled when she thought of Emeralda.

"Little Psyche," said her old father, "will you now promise me something?"

"Yes, father, dear."

"Will you always stay with me, little Psyche? You are safe here, are you not? and the world is so great, the world is so wicked. The world is full of temptation and mystery. Winged horses soar through the air; gigantic sphinxes lurk in the deserts; devilish fauns roam through the forests.... In the world, tears are shed, which form brooks, and in the world people give away their noblest right for the lowest pleasure.... Stay with me, Psyche, never wander too far away, for under our castle glows the Nether-world!... And life is like a princess, a cruel princess with a heart of stone...."

Of precious stone, like Emeralda, thought Psyche to herself. Who rides in triumph with her victorious chariot over the tenderest and dearest, and presses them stone-dead into the deepest furrows of the earth....

"Oh, Psyche, little Psyche, promise me always to stay here in this high and safe castle: always to stay with your father!"

She did not understand him.

His eyes, very large and animated, looked over her into space, with inexpressible sadness. Then she longed to console him, and threw her white arms round his neck; she hid herself, as it were, in his beard, and she whispered playfully:

"I will always stay with you, father dear...."

Then he pressed her to his heart, and thought that he would soon die....

Psyche was often very lonely, but yet she had much: she had the flowers, the birds; she had the butterflies, which thought that she was a bigger sister; she had the lizards, with which she played, and which, like little things of emerald, she held against her veil; she had the swans in the deep castle moats, which followed her when she walked on the ramparts; she had the clouds, which came floating from distant islands and paradises beyond; she had the wind, which sang her ballads; the rain, which fell down wet upon her and covered her wings with pearls. She would gladly have played with the pages in the halls, have laughed with the shield-bearers in the armoury, have listened to the martial tales of the bearded halberdiers at the gates, but she was a princess and knew she could not do that, and she always walked past them with great dignity, maidenly modest in her fine, thin veil, which left her tender limbs half exposed. That was the noble Nakedness, which was her privilege as a princess, a privilege given her at her cradle, together with her wings by the Fairy of Births, as to Emeralda was given the Jewel and to Astra the Star. For never might Psyche wear Jewel or Star, and never might Emeralda or Astra go naked. Each princess had her own privilege, her birthright. Adorable was Psyche as, unconscious of her maidenly, tender purity, she was seen with her crimson glittering wings, naked in the folds of her veil, walking past the armour-bearers and soldiers, who presented their swords or halberds as the princess, nymph-white, stepped past them.

Psyche was often very lonely, for her nurse was old and mumbled over her spinning-wheel; playmates Psyche had not, because she was a princess, and she would not get court-ladies till she was older and more dignified. But with the birds and the clouds and the wind Psyche could speak and laugh, and she was seldom dull, although she sometimes wished she were no longer Princess of Nakedness with the wings, but one of those very ordinary peasant-girls whom she had seen milking the cows, or plucking the thick bunches of grapes in the vineyard at harvest-time, whilst the pressers, handsome brown lads with sturdy arms, encircled the girls and danced.

But Psyche wandered along the ramparts; she looked at the clouds and spoke with the wind, and she asked the wind to give flight to her wings, so that she could fly far off to the opal landscapes that kept shifting and changing. But the wind rushed away with a flapping noise of wings that Psyche envied, and her own wings flapped a little, but in vain.

Psyche looked at the clouds. They floated along so stately in all kinds of forms--in the forms of sheep, swans, horses--and the form never remained: the seeming forms, thick-white in the blue ether, were constantly changing. Now she saw three swans which were drawing a boat, in which stood three women, who guided the swans; then she saw the women become a tower, the swans a dragon; and from far, far away came a knight, sitting on a winged horse. But now slowly the scene changed into a flock of little silver-fleeced, downy sheep, which were browsing far off in the sunshine as in a golden meadow. The knight disappeared, but the horse glided nearer and flew on his wings, high over the castle, towards the sheep.

Then Psyche dreamed at night of the swans, the tower, the dragon, the knight, the horse; but the horse she liked best, because it had strong wings. And next morning she gazed from the battlements to see if the horse would come again.

But then the sky was either gloomy from the rain or blue from the absence of clouds, or covered with white peacock's feathers, splendid plumes, but motionless, far, far away in the air. The wind changed, when she said: "Away! blow now from the East again! Begone, North wind, with your dark perils, begone! Begone, West wind, with your rain-urns! Begone, South wind, with your peacock's feathers! Come now, wind from the East, with your treasures of luxurious visions, ye dragons, ye horses, ye girls with swans!..." Then the clouds began to shift, the winds to blow, and play an opera high up in the air, and Psyche, enchanted, sat and gazed.

Then after weeks, after she had missed it for weeks, came again the winged horse.

And she beckoned to it to approach, to descend to her; but it flew past over the castle. Then she missed it again for many days, and, angry, she looked at the sky and scolded the wind. But then the horse came again, and, laughing, she beckoned to it. The horse ascended high, its wings expanded in the air, and oh, wonder! it beckoned to her to come up, up to it. She gave a sign that she could not, shook her little shoulders helplessly, and, trembling, flapped her wings and spread her arms wide out to say that she could not. And the horse sped away on the breath of the wind from the East.

Then Psyche wept, and, sad at heart, sat looking at the far, far-off landscapes which she would never reach.

But weeks afterwards the treasure-bringing wind blew again, and again appeared the horse in the horizon, and it flew near and beckoned to Psyche, her heart heavy with hope and fear.... The horse mounted up; it beckoned to her.... She gave a sign that she could not; and oh! she feared that it would speed away again, the horse with the strong wings.

No ... no ... the horse descended! Then Psyche uttered a joyful cry, sprang up, danced with delight and clapped her little hands. From the lofty, lofty sky the horse came down, gliding on its broad wings. It came down.

And Psyche, the little, joyful, excited Psyche, saw it coming, coming down to her. It descended--it approached. Oh, what a beautiful horse it was! Greater than the greatest horses, and then with wings! Fair it was, fair as the sun, with a long curly mane and long flowing tail, like a streamer of sunny gold. The noble head on its arched neck proudly raised and its eyes shone like fire, and a stream of breath came from its expanded nostrils, cloud after cloud. Big, powerful, muscular, its wings were stretched out like silvery quills, as Psyche had never seen in a bird before. And its golden hoofs struck the clouds and made them thunder; and sparks of fire shot forth in the pure, clear daylight. Enraptured Psyche had never seen such a beautiful horse before, never a bird so beautiful; and breathless, with her head raised, she waited till it should descend, descend on the terrace.... At last there it stood before her. Its nostrils steamed, and its hoofs struck sparks from the basalt rock, and it waved its mane and switched its tail.

"Splendid, beautiful horse," said Psyche, "who are you?"

"I am the Chimera," answered the horse, and his voice sounded deep as the clang of a brazen clock.

"Can you really speak?" asked Psyche, astonished. "And fly? Oh, how happy you must be!!"

"Why have you called me, little princess?" said the Chimera.

"I wanted to see you quite near," replied Psyche. "I only saw you dart like winged lightning through the air, so soon were you away again; and I was always sorry when I could not see you any more. Then I became, oh, so sad!"

"And why did you want to see me quite near, little princess with the wings?"

"I find you so beautiful. I have never seen anything so beautiful; I did not know that anything so beautiful existed. What are you? A horse you are not. Nor a dragon either, nor a man. What are you?"

"I am the Chimera."

"Where do you come from?"

"From far away. From the lands which are beyond the lands, from the worlds beyond the worlds, from the heavens beyond the heavens."

"Where are you going?"

"Very far. Do you see those distant regions yonder, of silver and opal? Well, thousands of times so far I am going.... I go from illimitableness to illimitableness; I come from nothingness and I am going to nothingness."

"What is nothingness?"

"Everything. Nothingness is as far as your brains can think, my little princess; and then still farther, and nothingness is more than all that you see from this high tower...."

"Are you never tired?"

"No, my wings are strong; I can bear all mankind on my back, and I could carry them away to the stars behind the stars."

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