Twilight Land
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Howard Pyle >> Twilight Land
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"Nay," said the little old man, "do not say that. Sit down to the
table and eat; and when I have told you all, you will say it was
not Ill-Luck, but Good-Luck, that brought you."
The Fiddler had his own mind about that; but, all the same, down
he sat at the table, and fell to with knife and fork at the good
things, as though he had not had a bite to eat for a week of
Sundays.
"I am the richest man in the world," says the little old man,
after a while.
"I am glad to hear it," says the Fiddler.
"You may well be," said the old man, "for I am all alone in the
world, and without wife or child. And this morning I said to
myself that the first body that came to my house I would take for
a son--or a daughter, as the case might be. You are the first,
and so you shall live with me as long as I live, and after I am
gone everything that I have shall be yours."
The Fiddler did nothing but stare with open eyes and mouth, as
though he would never shut either again.
Well, the Fiddler lived with the old man for maybe three or four
days as snug and happy a life as ever a mouse passed in a green
cheese. As for the gold and silver and jewels--why, they were
as plentiful in that house as dust in a mill! Everything the
Fiddler wanted came to his hand. He lived high, and slept soft
and warm, and never knew what it was to want either more or less,
or great or small. In all of those three or four days he did
nothing but enjoy himself with might and main.
But by-and-by he began to wonder where all the good things came
from. Then, before long, he fell to pestering the old man with
questions about the matter.
At first the old man put him off with short answers, but the
Fiddler was a master-hand at finding out anything he wanted to
know. He dinned and drummed and worried until flesh and blood
could stand it no longer. So at last the old man said that he
would show him the treasure-house where all his wealth came from,
and at that the Fiddler was tickled beyond measure.
The old man took a key from behind the door and led him out into
the garden. There in a corner by the wall was a great trap-door
of iron. The old man fitted the key to the lock and turned it. He
lifted the door, and then went down a steep flight of stone
steps, and the Fiddler followed close at his heels. Down below it
was as light as day, for in the centre of the room hung a great
lamp that shone with a bright light and lit up all the place as
bright as day. In the floor were set three great basins of
marble: one was nearly full of silver, one of gold, and one of
gems of all sorts.
"All this is mine," said the old man, "and after I am gone it
shall be yours. It was left to me as I will leave it to you, and
in the meantime you may come and go as you choose and fill your
pockets whenever you wish to. But there is one thing you must not
do: you must never open that door yonder at the back of the room.
Should you do so, Ill-Luck will be sure to overtake you."
Oh no! The Fiddler would never think of doing such a thing as
opening the door. The silver and gold and jewels were enough for
him. But since the old man had given him leave, he would just
help himself to a few of the fine things. So he stuffed his
pockets full, and then he followed the old man up the steps and
out into the sunlight again.
It took him maybe an hour to count all the money and jewels he
had brought up with him. After he had done that, he began to
wonder what was inside of the little door at the back of the
room. First he wondered; then he began to grow curious; then he
began to itch and tingle and burn as though fifty thousand
I-want-to-know nettles were sticking into him from top to toe. At
last he could stand it no longer. "I'll just go down yonder,"
says he, "and peep through the key-hole; perhaps I can see what
is there without opening the door."
So down he took the key, and off he marched to the garden. He
opened the trap-door, and went down the steep steps to the room
below. There was the door at the end of the room, but when he
came to look there was no key-hole to it. "Pshaw!" said he, "here
is a pretty state of affairs. Tut! tut! tut! Well, since I have
come so far, it would be a pity to turn back without seeing
more." So he opened the door and peeped in.
"Pooh!" said the Fiddler, "There's nothing there, after all," and
he opened the door wide.
Before him was a great long passageway, and at the far end of it
he could see a spark of light as though the sun were shining
there. He listened, and after a while he heard a sound like the
waves beating on the shore. "Well," says he, "this is the most
curious thing I have seen for a long time. Since I have come so
far, I may as well see the end of it." So he entered the
passageway, and closed the door behind him. He went on and on,
and the spark of light kept growing larger and larger, and
by-and-by--pop! out he came at the other end of the passage.
Sure enough, there he stood on the sea-shore, with the waves
beating and dashing on the rocks. He stood looking and wondering
to find himself in such a place, when all of a sudden something
came with a whiz and a rush and caught him by the belt, and away
he flew like a bullet.
By-and-by he managed to screw his head around and look up, and
there it was Ill-Luck that had him. "I thought so," said the
Fiddler; and then he gave over kicking.
Well; on and on they flew, over hill and valley, over moor and
mountain, until they came to another garden, and there Ill-Luck
let the Fiddler drop.
Swash! Down he fell into the top of an apple-tree, and there he
hung in the branches.
It was the garden of a royal castle, and all had been weeping and
woe (though they were beginning now to pick up their smiles
again), and this was the reason why:
The king of that country had died, and no one was left behind him
but the queen. But she was a prize, for not only was the kingdom
hers, but she was as young as a spring apple and as pretty as a
picture; so that there was no end of those who would have liked
to have had her, each man for his own. Even that day there were
three princes at the castle, each one wanting the queen to marry
him; and the wrangling and bickering and squabbling that was
going on was enough to deafen a body. The poor young queen was
tired to death with it all, and so she had come out into the
garden for a bit of rest; and there she sat under the shade of an
apple-tree, fanning herself and crying, when--
Swash! Down fell the Fiddler into the apple-tree and down fell a
dozen apples, popping and tumbling about the queen's ears.
The queen looked up and screamed, and the Fiddler climbed down.
"Where did you come from?" said she.
"Oh, Ill-Luck brought me," said the Fiddler.
"Nay," said the queen, "do not say so. You fell from heaven, for
I saw it with my eyes and heard it with my ears. I see how it is
now. You were sent hither from heaven to be my husband, and my
husband you shall be. You shall be king of this country,
half-and-half with me as queen, and shall sit on a throne beside
me."
You can guess whether or not that was music to the Fiddler's
ears.
So the princes were sent packing, and the Fiddler was married to
the queen, and reigned in that country.
Well, three or four days passed, and all was as sweet and happy
as a spring day. But at the end of that time the Fiddler began to
wonder what was to be seen in the castle. The queen was very fond
of him, and was glad enough to show him all the fine things that
were to be seen; so hand in hand they went everywhere, from
garret to cellar.
But you should have seen how splendid it all was! The Fiddler
felt more certain than ever that it was better to be a king than
to be the richest man in the world, and he was as glad as glad
could be that Ill-Luck had brought him from the rich little old
man over yonder to this.
So he saw everything in the castle but one thing. "What is behind
that door?" said he.
"Ah! that," said the queen, "you must not ask or wish to know.
Should you open that door Ill-Luck will be sure to overtake you."
"Pooh!" said the Fiddler, "I don't care to know, anyhow," and off
they went, hand in hand.
Yes, that was a very fine thing to say; but before an hour had
gone by the Fiddler's head began to hum and buzz like a beehive.
"I don't believe," said he, "there would be a grain of harm in my
peeping inside that door; all the same, I will not do it. I will
just go down and peep through the key-hole." So off he went to do
as he said; but there was no key-hole to that door, either. "Why,
look!" says he, "it is just like the door at the rich man's house
over yonder; I wonder if it is the same inside as outside," and
he opened the door and peeped in. Yes; there was the long passage
and the spark of light at the far end, as though the sun were
shining. He cocked his head to one side and listened. "Yes," said
he, "I think I hear the water rushing, but I am not sure; I will
just go a little further in and listen," and so he entered and
closed the door behind him. Well, he went on and on until--pop!
there he was out at the farther end, and before he knew what he
was about he had stepped out upon the sea-shore, just as he had
done before.
Whiz! whirr! Away flew the Fiddler like a bullet, and there was
Ill-Luck carrying him by the belt again. Away they sped, over
hill and valley, over moor and mountain, until the Fiddler's head
grew so dizzy that he had to shut his eyes. Suddenly Ill-Luck let
him drop, and down he fell--thump! bump!--on the hard ground.
Then he opened his eyes and sat up, and, lo and behold! there he
was, under the oak-tree whence he had started in the first place.
There lay his fiddle, just as he had left it. He picked it up and
ran his fingers over the strings--trum, twang! Then he got to
his feet and brushed the dirt and grass from his knees. He tucked
his fiddle under his arm, and off he stepped upon the way he had
been going at first.
"Just to think!" said he, "I would either have been the richest
man in the world, or else I would have been a king, if it had not
been for Ill-Luck."
And that is the way we all of us talk.
Dr. Faustus had sat all the while neither drinking ale nor
smoking tobacco, but with his hands folded, and in silence. "I
know not why it is," said he, "but that story of yours, my
friend, brings to my mind a story of a man whom I once knew--a
great magician in his time, and a necromancer and a chemist and
an alchemist and mathematician and a rhetorician, an astronomer,
an astrologer, and a philosopher as well."
" Tis a long list of excellency," said old Bidpai.
" Tis not as long as was his head, " said Dr. Faustus.
"It would be good for us all to hear a story of such a man," said
old Bidpai.
"Nay," said Dr. Faustus, "the story is not altogether of the man
himself, but rather of a pupil who came to learn wisdom of him."
"And the name of your story is what?" said Fortunatus.
"It hath no name," said Dr. Faustus.
"Nay," said St. George, "everything must have a name."
"It hath no name," said Dr. Faustus. "But I shall give it a name,
and it shall be--
Empty Bottles
In the old, old days when men were wiser than they are in these
times, there lived a great philosopher and magician, by name
Nicholas Flamel. Not only did he know all the actual sciences,
but the black arts as well, and magic, and what not. He conjured
demons so that when a body passed the house of a moonlight night
a body might see imps, great and small, little and big, sitting
on the chimney stacks and the ridge-pole, clattering their heels
on the tiles and chatting together.
He could change iron and lead into silver and gold; he discovered
the elixir of life, and might have been living even to this day
had he thought it worth while to do so.
There was a student at the university whose name was Gebhart, who
was so well acquainted with algebra and geometry that he could
tell at a single glance how many drops of water there were in a
bottle of wine. As for Latin and Greek--he could patter them
off like his A B C's. Nevertheless, he was not satisfied with the
things he knew, but was for learning the things that no schools
could teach him. So one day he came knocking at Nicholas Flamel's
door.
"Come in," said the wise man, and there Gebhart found him sitting
in the midst of his books and bottles and diagrams and dust and
chemicals and cobwebs, making strange figures upon the table with
jackstraws and a piece of chalk--for your true wise man can
squeeze more learning out of jackstraws and a piece of chalk than
we common folk can get out of all the books in the world.
No one else was in the room but the wise man's servant, whose
name was Babette.
"What is it you want?" said the wise man, looking at Gebhart over
the rim of his spectacles.
"Master," said Gebhart, "I have studied day after day at the
university, and from early in the morning until late at night, so
that my head has hummed and my eyes were sore, yet I have not
learned those things that I wish most of all to know--the arts
that no one but you can teach. Will you take me as your pupil?"
The wise man shook his head.
"Many would like to be as wise as that," said he, "and few there
be who can become so. Now tell me. Suppose all the riches of the
world were offered to you, would you rather be wise?"
"Yes."
"Suppose you might have all the rank and power of a king or of an
emperor, would you rather be wise?"
"Yes."
"Suppose I undertook to teach you, would you give up everything
of joy and of pleasure to follow me?"
"Yes."
"Perhaps you are hungry," said the master.
"Yes," said the student, "I am."
"Then, Babette, you may bring some bread and cheese."
It seemed to Gebhart that he had learned all that Nicholas Flamel
had to teach him.
It was in the gray of the dawning, and the master took the pupil
by the hand and led him up the rickety stairs to the roof of the
house, where nothing was to be seen but gray sky, high roofs, and
chimney stacks from which the smoke rose straight into the still
air.
"Now," said the master, "I have taught you nearly all of the
science that I know, and the time has come to show you the
wonderful thing that has been waiting for us from the beginning
when time was. You have given up wealth and the world and
pleasure and joy and love for the sake of wisdom. Now, then,
comes the last test--whether you can remain faithful to me to
the end; if you fail in it, all is lost that you have gained."
After he said that he stripped his cloak away from his shoulders
and laid bare the skin. Then he took a bottle of red liquor and
began bathing his shoulder-blades with it; and as Gebhart,
squatting upon the ridge-pole, looked, he saw two little lumps
bud out upon the smooth skin, and then grow and grow and grow
until they became two great wings as white as snow.
"Now then," said the master, "take me by the belt and grip fast,
for there is a long, long journey before us, and if you should
lose your head and let go your hold you will fall and be dashed
to pieces."
Then he spread the two great wings, and away he flew as fast as
the wind, with Gebhart hanging to his belt.
Over hills, over dales, over mountains, over moors he flew, with
the brown earth lying so far below that horses and cows looked
like pismires and men like fleas.
Then, by-and-by, it was over the ocean they were crossing, with
the great ships that pitched and tossed below looking like chips
in a puddle in rainy weather.
At last they came to a strange land, far, far away, and there the
master lit upon a sea-shore where the sand was as white as
silver. As soon as his feet touched the hard ground the great
wings were gone like a puff of smoke, and the wise man walked
like any other body.
At the edge of the sandy beach was a great, high, naked cliff;
and the only way of reaching the top was by a flight of stone
steps, as slippery as glass, cut in the solid rock.
The wise man led the way, and the student followed close at his
heels, every now and then slipping and stumbling so that, had it
not been for the help that the master gave him, he would have
fallen more than once and have been dashed to pieces upon the
rocks below.
At last they reached the top, and there found themselves in a
desert, without stick of wood or blade of grass, but only gray
stones and skulls and bones bleaching in the sun.
In the middle of the plain was a castle such as the eyes of man
never saw before, for it was built all of crystal from roof to
cellar. Around it was a high wall of steel, and in the wall were
seven gates of polished brass.
The wise man led the way straight to the middle gate of the
seven, where there hung a horn of pure silver, which he set to
his lips. He blew a blast so loud and shrill that it made
Gebhart's ears tingle. In an instant there sounded a great rumble
and grumble like the noise of loud thunder, and the gates of
brass swung slowly back, as though of themselves.
But when Gebhart saw what he saw within the gates his heart
crumbled away for fear, and his knees knocked together; for
there, in the very middle of the way, stood a monstrous, hideous
dragon, that blew out flames and clouds of smoke from his gaping
mouth like a chimney a-fire.
But the wise master was as cool as smooth water; he thrust his
hand into the bosom of his jacket and drew forth a little black
box, which he flung straight into the gaping mouth.
Snap!--the dragon swallowed the box.
The next moment it gave a great, loud, terrible cry, and,
clapping and rattling its wings, leaped into the air and flew
away, bellowing like a bull.
If Gebhart had been wonder-struck at seeing the outside of the
castle, he was ten thousand times more amazed to see the inside
thereof. For, as the master led the way and he followed, he
passed through four-and-twenty rooms, each one more wonderful
than the other. Everywhere was gold and silver and dazzling
jewels that glistened so brightly that one had to shut one's eyes
to their sparkle. Beside all this, there were silks and satins
and velvets and laces and crystal and ebony and sandal-wood that
smelled sweeter than musk and rose leaves. All the wealth of the
world brought together into one place could not make such riches
as Gebhart saw with his two eyes in these four-and-twenty rooms.
His heart beat fast within him.
At last they reached a little door of solid iron, beside which
hung a sword with a blade that shone like lightning. The master
took the sword in one hand and laid the other upon the latch of
the door. Then he turned to Gebhart and spoke for the first time
since they had started upon their long journey.
"In this room," said he, "you will see a strange thing happen,
and in a little while I shall be as one dead. As soon as that
comes to pass, go you straightway through to the room beyond,
where you will find upon a marble table a goblet of water and a
silver dagger. Touch nothing else, and look at nothing else, for
if you do all will be lost to both of us. Bring the water
straightway, and sprinkle my face with it, and when that is done
you and I will be the wisest and greatest men that ever lived,
for I will make you equal to myself in all that I know. So now
swear to do what I have just bid you, and not turn aside a hair's
breadth in the going and the coming.
"I swear," said Gebhart, and crossed his heart.
Then the master opened the door and entered, with Gebhart close
at his heels.
In the centre of the room was a great red cock, with eyes that
shone like sparks of fire. So soon as he saw the master he flew
at him, screaming fearfully, and spitting out darts of fire that
blazed and sparkled like lightning.
It was a dreadful battle between the master and the cock. Up and
down they fought, and here and there. Sometimes the student could
see the wise man whirling and striking with his sword; and then
again he would be hidden in a sheet of flame. But after a while
he made a lucky stroke, and off flew the cock's head. Then, lo
and behold! instead of a cock it was a great, hairy, black demon
that lay dead on the floor.
But, though the master had conquered, he looked like one sorely
sick. He was just able to stagger to a couch that stood by the
wall, and there he fell and lay, without breath or motion, like
one dead, and as white as wax.
As soon as Gebhart had gathered his wits together he remembered
what the master had said about the other room.
The door of it was also of iron. He opened it and passed within,
and there saw two great tables or blocks of polished marble. Upon
one was the dagger and a goblet of gold brimming with water. Upon
the other lay the figure of a woman, and as Gebhart looked at her
he thought her more beautiful than any thought or dream could
picture. But her eyes were closed, and she lay like a lifeless
figure of wax.
After Gebhart had gazed at her a long, long time, he took up the
goblet and the dagger from the table and turned towards the door.
Then, before he left that place, he thought that he would have
just one more look at the beautiful figure. So he did, and gazed
and gazed until his heart melted away within him like a lump of
butter; and, hardly knowing what he did, he stooped and kissed
the lips.
Instantly he did so a great humming sound filled the whole
castle, so sweet and musical that it made him tremble to listen.
Then suddenly the figure opened its eyes and looked straight at
him.
"At last!" she said; "have you come at last?"
"Yes," said Gebhart, "I have come."
Then the beautiful woman arose and stepped down from the table to
the floor; and if Gebhart thought her beautiful before, he
thought her a thousand times more beautiful now that her eyes
looked into his.
"Listen," said she. "I have been asleep for hundreds upon
hundreds of years, for so it was fated to be until he should come
who was to bring me back to life again. You are he, and now you
shall live with me forever. In this castle is the wealth gathered
by the king of the genii, and it is greater than all the riches
of the world. It and the castle likewise shall be yours. I can
transport everything into any part of the world you choose, and
can by my arts make you prince or king or emperor. Come."
"Stop," said Gebhart. "I must first do as my master bade me."
He led the way into the other room, the lady following him, and
so they both stood together by the couch where the wise man lay.
When the lady saw his face she cried out in a loud voice: "It is
the great master! What are you going to do?"
"I am going to sprinkle his face with this water," said Gebhart.
"Stop!" said she. "Listen to what I have to say. In your hand you
hold the water of life and the dagger of death. The master is not
dead, but sleeping; if you sprinkle that water upon him he will
awaken, young, handsome and more powerful than the greatest
magician that ever lived. I myself, this castle, and everything
that is in it will be his, and, instead of your becoming a prince
or a king or an emperor, he will be so in your place. That, I
say, will happen if he wakens. Now the dagger of death is the
only thing in the world that has power to kill him. You have it
in your hand. You have but to give him one stroke with it while
he sleeps, and he will never waken again, and then all will be
yours--your very own."
Gebhart neither spoke nor moved, but stood looking down upon his
master. Then he set down the goblet very softly on the floor,
and, shutting his eyes that he might not see the blow, raised the
dagger to strike.
"That is all your promises amount to," said Nicholas Flamel the
wise man. "After all, Babette, you need not bring the bread and
cheese, for he shall be no pupil of mine."
Then Gebhart opened his eyes.
There sat the wise man in the midst of his books and bottles and
diagrams and dust and chemicals and cobwebs, making strange
figures upon the table with jackstraws and a piece of chalk.
And Babette, who had just opened the cupboard door for the loaf
of bread and the cheese, shut it again with a bang, and went back
to her spinning.
So Gebhart had to go back again to his Greek and Latin and
algebra and geometry; for, after all, one cannot pour a gallon of
beer into a quart pot, or the wisdom of a Nicholas Flamel into
such an one as Gebhart.
As for the name of this story, why, if some promises are not
bottles full of nothing but wind, there is little need to have a
name for anything.
"Since we are in the way of talking of fools," said the Fisherman
who drew the Genie out of the sea--"since we are in the way of
talking of fools, I can tell you a story of the fool of all
fools, and how, one after the other, he wasted as good gifts as a
man's ears ever heard tell of."
"What was his name?" said the Lad who fiddled for the Jew in the
bramble-bush.
"That," said the Fisherman, "I do not know."
"And what is this story about?" asked St. George.
" Tis," said the Fisherman, "about a hole in the ground."
"And is that all?" said the Soldier who cheated the Devil.
"Nay," said the Fisherman, blowing a whiff from his pipe; "there
were some things in the hole--a bowl of treasure, an earthen-ware
jar, and a pair of candlesticks."
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