The Wonderful Sheep

Once upon a time, when fairies still lived, there was a king who had three daughters. They were all young, clever, and beautiful, but the youngest, whose name was Miranda, was the prettiest and the most loved.

The king, her father, gave her more dresses and jewels in a month than he gave the others in a year. But she was so generous that she shared everything with her sisters, and they were all happy and loved each other very much.

Now the king had some quarrelsome neighbors. They tired of leaving him in peace and started a fierce war against him. He feared he would lose unless he fought back. So he gathered a great army and left to fight. The princesses stayed with their governess in a castle.

Every day, news of the war arrived: sometimes that the king had captured a town, sometimes that he had won a battle. At last, word came that he had beaten his enemies and chased them out of his kingdom.

He was coming home as quickly as possible to see his dear little Miranda, whom he loved so much.

The three princesses put on satin dresses they had made for the great occasion. One wore green, one blue, and the third white. Their jewels matched: the eldest wore emeralds, the second turquoises, and the youngest diamonds. Dressed like this, they went to meet the king, singing verses they had written about his victories.

When the king saw them all so beautiful and happy, he hugged them warmly. But he gave Miranda more kisses than the others.

Soon a splendid banquet was served. The king and his daughters sat down. He always thought everything had a special meaning, so he asked the eldest:

"Tell me why you chose a green dress."

"Sire," she answered, "hearing of your victories, I thought green would show my joy and hope for your quick return."

"That is a very good answer," said the king. "And you, my daughter," he continued, "why did you wear a blue dress?"

"Sire," she said, "to show that we always hoped for your success. Seeing you is as welcome as the sky with its most beautiful stars."

"Why," said the king, "your wise answers amaze me. And you, Miranda. What made you dress all in white?"

"Because, sire," she answered, "white suits me better than anything else."

"What!" said the king angrily. "Was that all you thought of, vain child?"

"I thought you would be pleased with me," said the princess. "That was all."

The king loved her, so he was satisfied with this. He even pretended to be glad she hadn't told him all her reasons at first.

"And now," he said, "since I have supped well and it's not time to go to bed yet, tell me what you dreamed last night."

The eldest said she dreamed he brought her a dress with precious stones and gold embroidery brighter than the sun.

The second dreamed he brought her a spinning wheel and a distaff so she could spin him some shirts.

But the youngest said: "I dreamed that my second sister was going to be married. On her wedding day, you, father, held a golden pitcher and said, 'Come, Miranda, and I will hold the water so you can dip your hands in it.'"

When the king heard this dream, he became very angry indeed. He frowned horribly and made such an ugly face that everyone could see how furious he was. He got up and went to bed in a great hurry. But he could not forget his daughter's dream.

"Does that proud girl want to make me her slave?" he said to himself. "No wonder she chose white satin without a thought of me. She doesn't think I'm worth her consideration! But I will soon put an end to her pretensions!"

He rose in a fury. Though it was not yet daylight, he sent for the Captain of his Bodyguard and said:

"You heard the Princess Miranda's dream. I believe it means strange things against me. So I order you to take her into the forest and kill her. To be sure it's done, you must bring me her heart and her tongue. If you try to deceive me, you will be put to death!"

The Captain of the Guard was very astonished at this barbarous order. But he did not dare to contradict the king, for fear of making him angrier or making him send someone else. So he answered that he would fetch the princess and do as the king said.

When he went to her room, it was so early that they hardly let him in. But he said the king had sent for Miranda. She got up quickly and came out. A little black girl named Patypata held up her train. Her pet monkey and her little dog ran after her.

The monkey was called Grabugeon, and the little dog Tintin.

The Captain of the Guard asked Miranda to come down into the garden where the king was enjoying the fresh air. When they got there, he pretended to look for him. But the king was not to be found, so he said:

"No doubt his Majesty has walked into the forest." He opened a little door that led there, and they went through.

By now daylight was beginning to appear. The princess looked at her conductor and saw tears in his eyes. He seemed too sad to speak.

"What is the matter?" she asked kindly. "You seem very sorrowful."

"Alas! Princess," he answered, "who would not be sorrowful when ordered to do such a terrible thing? The king has commanded me to kill you here and carry your heart and tongue to him. If I disobey, I will lose my life."

The poor princess was terrified. She grew very pale and began to cry softly. Looking up at the Captain of the Guard with her beautiful eyes, she said gently:

"Will you really have the heart to kill me? I have never done you any harm. I have always spoken well of you to the king. If I deserved my father's anger, I would suffer without a word. But, alas! He is unjust. I have always treated him with love and respect."

"Fear nothing, Princess," said the Captain of the Guard. "I would much rather die myself than hurt you. But even if I am killed, you will not be safe. We must find a way to make the king believe you are dead."

"What can we do?" said Miranda. "Unless you take him my heart and my tongue, he will never believe you."

The princess and the captain were talking so earnestly that they forgot about Patypata. But she had overheard everything. Now she came and threw herself at Miranda's feet.

"Madam," she said, "I offer you my life. Let me be killed. I would be only too happy to die for such a kind mistress."

"Why, Patypata!" cried the princess, kissing her. "That would never do. Your life is as precious to me as my own, especially after this proof of your affection."

"You are right, Princess," said Grabugeon, stepping forward. "You love such a faithful slave as Patypata. She is more use to you than I am. I offer you my tongue and my heart most willingly, especially as I wish to make a great name for myself in Goblin Land."

"No, no, my little Grabugeon," replied Miranda. "I cannot bear the thought of taking your life."

"Such a good little dog as I am!" cried Tintin. "I can't let either of you die for our mistress. If anyone is to die for her, it must be me."

Then a great dispute began between Patypata, Grabugeon, and Tintin. They came to high words until at last Grabugeon, who was quicker than the others, ran up to the very top of a tree and let herself fall headfirst to the ground. There she lay—quite dead!

The princess was very sorry. But since Grabugeon was truly dead, she allowed the captain to take her tongue. But, alas! It was such a tiny one—not bigger than the princess's thumb—that they sorrowfully decided it was no use at all. The king would not have been fooled for a moment.

"Alas! My little monkey," cried the princess, "I have lost you, yet I am no better off than before."

"The honor of saving your life is mine," interrupted Patypata. Before anyone could stop her, she picked up a knife and cut off her head in an instant. But when the captain tried to take her tongue, it turned out to be quite black. That would not have deceived the king either.

"Am I not unlucky?" cried the poor princess. "I lose everything I love, and I am none the better for it."

"If you had accepted my offer," said Tintin, "you would only have had me to regret. And I would have had all your gratitude."

Miranda kissed her little dog, crying so bitterly that at last she could bear it no longer. She turned away into the forest. When she looked back, the Captain of the Guard was gone. She was alone, except for Patypata, Grabugeon, and Tintin, who lay on the ground.

She could not leave the place until she had buried them in a pretty little mossy grave at the foot of a tree. She wrote their names on the bark of the tree and told how they had all died to save her life.

Then she began to think where she could go for safety. This forest was so close to her father's castle that she might be seen and recognized by any passerby. Besides, it was full of lions and wolves that would snap up a princess as soon as a stray chicken.

So she began to walk as fast as she could. But the forest was so large and the sun so hot that she nearly died of heat, terror, and fatigue. Whichever way she looked, there seemed no end to the forest.

She was so frightened that she thought every minute she heard the king running after her to kill her. You can imagine how miserable she was. She cried as she went on, not knowing which path to follow. The thorny bushes scratched her dreadfully and tore her pretty frock to pieces.

At last she heard the bleating of a sheep.

She said to herself:

"No doubt there are shepherds here with their flocks. They will show me the way to a village where I can live disguised as a peasant girl. Alas! It is not always kings and princes who are the happiest people in the world. Who could have believed that I would ever have to run away and hide because the king, for no reason at all, wants to kill me?"

Saying this, she moved toward the sound of the bleating. But what was her surprise when, in a lovely little clearing surrounded by trees, she saw a large sheep! Its wool was as white as snow, and its horns shone like gold.

It wore a garland of flowers around its neck and strings of great pearls about its legs, and a collar of diamonds. It lay on a bank of orange flowers under a canopy of cloth of gold that protected it from the sun.

Nearly a hundred other sheep were scattered about, not eating grass. Some drank coffee, lemonade, or sherbet. Others ate ices, strawberries and cream, or sweetmeats. Still others played games. Many wore golden collars with jewels, flowers, and ribbons.

Miranda stopped in amazement at this unexpected sight. She looked around for the shepherd of this surprising flock. Then the beautiful sheep came bounding toward her.

"Approach, lovely Princess!" he cried. "Do not fear such gentle and peaceable animals as we are."

"What a marvel!" cried the princess, stepping back a little. "Here is a sheep that can talk."

"Your monkey and your dog could talk, madam," said he. "Are you more astonished at us than at them?"

"A fairy gave them the power to speak," replied Miranda. "So I was used to them."

"Perhaps the same thing has happened to us," he said, smiling sheepishly. "But, Princess, what has brought you here?"

"A thousand misfortunes, Sir Sheep," she answered. "I am the unhappiest princess in the world. I seek shelter from my father's anger."

"Come with me, madam," said the Sheep. "I offer you a hiding-place that only you will know. You will be mistress of everything you see."

"I really cannot follow you," said Miranda, "for I am too tired to walk another step."

The Sheep with the golden horns ordered his chariot to be fetched. A moment later, six goats appeared, harnessed to a pumpkin. The pumpkin was so big that two people could sit in it. It was lined with cushions of velvet and down.

The princess stepped in, much amused by this unusual carriage. The King of the Sheep took his place beside her. The goats ran away at full speed, and they did not stop until they reached a cave. The entrance was blocked by a great stone.

The King touched it with his foot, and it immediately fell down. He invited the princess to enter without fear. If she had not been so alarmed by everything that had happened, nothing would have made her go into that frightful cave.

But she was so afraid of what might be behind her that she would have thrown herself even down a well. So, without hesitation, she followed the Sheep, who went before her. Down, down, down they went, until she thought they must come out at the other side of the world.

Indeed, she was not sure he wasn't leading her into Fairyland. At last she saw before her a great plain covered with all sorts of flowers. The scent seemed nicer than anything she had ever smelled. A broad river of orange-flower water flowed around it.

Fountains of wine of every kind ran in all directions, making pretty little cascades and brooks. The plain was covered with the strangest trees. There were whole avenues where partridges, already roasted, hung from every branch.

If you preferred pheasants, quails, turkeys, or rabbits, you only had to turn right or left and you were sure to find them. In places, the air was darkened by showers of lobster patties, white puddings, sausages, tarts, and all sorts of sweetmeats, or with pieces of gold and silver, diamonds and pearls.

This unusual rain and the pleasantness of the whole place would certainly have attracted many people, if the King of the Sheep had been more sociable. But from all accounts, he was as grave as a judge.

Since it was the nicest time of year when Miranda arrived, the only palace she saw was a long row of orange trees, jasmines, honeysuckles, and musk-roses. Their interlacing branches made the prettiest rooms possible. They were hung with gold and silver gauze and had great mirrors, candlesticks, and most beautiful pictures. The Wonderful Sheep begged the princess to consider herself queen of all she saw. He assured her that, though for some years he had been very sad and in great trouble, she had the power to make him forget all his grief.

"You are so kind and generous, noble Sheep," said the princess, "that I cannot thank you enough. But I must confess that everything here seems so extraordinary that I don't know what to think."

As she spoke, a band of lovely fairies came up and offered her amber baskets full of fruit. But when she held out her hands to them, they glided away. She could feel nothing when she tried to touch them.

"Oh!" she cried. "What can they be? Whom am I with?" And she began to cry.

At that moment, the King of the Sheep came back to her. He was so upset to find her in tears that he could have torn his wool.

"What is the matter, lovely Princess?" he cried. "Has anyone failed to treat you with respect?"

"Oh! No," said Miranda. "Only I am not used to living with sprites and talking sheep. Everything here frightens me. It was very kind of you to bring me here, but I would be even more grateful if you would take me back up into the world."

"Do not be afraid," said the Wonderful Sheep. "I beg you to be patient and listen to my story of misfortune. I was once a king, and my kingdom was the most splendid in the world. My subjects loved me. My neighbors envied and feared me. Everyone respected me, and it was said that no king ever deserved it more.

"I was very fond of hunting. One day, while chasing a stag, I left my attendants far behind. Suddenly I saw the stag leap into a pool of water. I rashly urged my horse to follow. But before we had gone many steps, I felt an extraordinary heat instead of the coolness of the water. The pool dried up. A great gulf opened before me, out of which flames of fire shot up. I fell helplessly to the bottom of a precipice.

"I gave myself up for lost. But soon a voice said: 'Ungrateful Prince, even this fire is hardly enough to warm your cold heart!'

"'Who complains of my coldness in this dismal place?' I cried.

"'An unhappy being who loves you hopelessly,' replied the voice. At the same moment, the flames began to flicker and die down. I saw a fairy I had known as long as I could remember. Her ugliness had always horrified me. She leaned on the arm of a most beautiful young girl, who wore gold chains on her wrists and was clearly her slave.

"'Why, Ragotte,' I said—for that was the fairy's name—'what is the meaning of all this? Is it by your orders that I am here?'

"'And whose fault is it,' she answered, 'that you have never understood me until now? Must a powerful fairy like myself condescend to explain her doings to you who are no better than an ant by comparison, though you think yourself a great king?'

"'Call me what you like,' I said impatiently. 'But what do you want—my crown, my cities, or my treasures?'

"'Treasures!' said the fairy disdainfully. 'If I chose, I could make any of my kitchen boys richer and more powerful than you. I don't want your treasures.' Then she added softly, 'But if you give me your heart—if you marry me—I will add twenty kingdoms to the one you already have. You shall have a hundred castles full of gold and five hundred full of silver. In short, anything you ask for.'

"'Madam Ragotte,' I said, 'when one is at the bottom of a pit, expecting to be roasted alive, it is impossible to ask such a charming person as you to marry me. I beg you to set me free. Then I will answer you properly.'

"'Ah!' she said. 'If you truly loved me, you wouldn't care where you were—a cave, a wood, a foxhole, a desert would please you equally. Don't think you can deceive me. You think you will escape, but I assure you that you will stay here. The first thing I will give you to do is to keep my sheep. They are very good company and speak as well as you do.'

"As she spoke, she led me to this plain where we now stand and showed me her flock. But I paid little attention to her or it. To tell the truth, I was so lost in admiration of her beautiful slave that I forgot everything else. The cruel Ragotte saw this. She turned such a furious and terrible look on the girl that she fell lifeless to the ground.

"At this dreadful sight, I drew my sword and rushed at Ragotte. I would certainly have cut off her head if she had not used her magic to chain me to the spot. All my efforts to move were useless. At last, I threw myself on the ground in despair. She said to me with a scornful smile:

"'I intend to make you feel my power. You are a lion now; I mean you to be a sheep.'

"So saying, she touched me with her wand, and I became what you see. I did not lose the power of speech or the ability to feel the misery of my present state.

"'For five years,' she said, 'you shall be a sheep, lord of this pleasant land. I, no longer able to see your face, which I loved so much, will better hate you as you deserve.'

"She disappeared as she finished speaking. If I had not been too unhappy to care, I would have been glad she was gone.

"The talking sheep received me as their king. They told me they, too, were unfortunate princes who had in different ways offended the revengeful fairy and had been added to her flock for a certain number of years—some more, some less.

From time to time, one regains his proper form and goes back to the upper world. But the other beings you saw are rivals or enemies of Ragotte, whom she has imprisoned for a hundred years or so. Even they will go back at last.

The young slave I told you about is one of these. I have often seen her, and it has been a great pleasure. She never speaks to me. If I were nearer, I know I would find her only a shadow, which would be very annoying.

However, I noticed that one of my companions in misfortune was also very attentive to this little sprite. I found out that he had been her lover, whom the cruel Ragotte had taken away long before. Since then, I have cared for nothing but how to regain my freedom.

I have often been in the forest. That is where I have seen you, lovely Princess, sometimes driving your chariot with all the grace and skill in the world; sometimes riding to the chase on so spirited a horse that it seemed no one else could manage it; and sometimes running races on the plain with the princesses of your court—running so lightly that it was always you who won the prize.

Oh! Princess, I have loved you so long. Yet how dare I tell you of my love? What hope can there be for an unhappy sheep like myself?"

Miranda was so surprised and confused by all she had heard that she hardly knew what to answer. But she managed to make some kind of little speech that certainly did not forbid him to hope. She said she should not be afraid of the shadows now that she knew they would someday come to life again. "Alas!" she continued, "if my poor Patypata, dear Grabugeon, and pretty little Tintin, who all died for my sake, were equally well off, I would have nothing left to wish for here!"

Prisoner though he was, the King of the Sheep still had some powers and privileges.

"Go," he said to his Master of the Horse, "go and seek the shadows of the little black girl, the monkey, and the dog. They will amuse our Princess."

An instant later, Miranda saw them coming toward her. Their presence gave her the greatest pleasure, though they did not come close enough for her to touch them.

The King of the Sheep was so kind and amusing, and loved Miranda so dearly, that at last she began to love him too. Such a handsome sheep, who was so polite and considerate, could hardly fail to please—especially since she knew he was really a king and that his strange imprisonment would soon end. So the princess's days passed very gaily while she waited for the happy time. The King of the Sheep, with the help of all the flock, organized balls, concerts, and hunting parties. Even the shadows joined in the fun, pretending to be their real selves.

One evening, when the couriers arrived (for the king sent carefully for news, and they always brought the very best kinds), it was announced that the sister of Princess Miranda was going to be married to a great prince. Nothing could be more splendid than all the preparations for the wedding.

"Ah!" cried the young princess. "How unlucky I am to miss seeing so many pretty things! Here I am imprisoned under the earth with no company but sheep and shadows, while my sister will be adorned like a queen, surrounded by all who love her. Everyone but me can go to wish her joy!"

"Why do you complain, Princess?" said the King of the Sheep. "Did I say you could not go to the wedding? Set out as soon as you wish. Only promise me you will come back, for I love you too much to live without you."

Miranda was very grateful and faithfully promised that nothing in the world would keep her from returning. The king prepared an escort suitable to her rank. She dressed herself splendidly, not forgetting anything that could make her more beautiful. Her chariot was of mother-of-pearl, drawn by six dun-colored griffins just brought from the other side of the world. She was attended by many guards in splendid uniforms, who were all at least eight feet tall and had come from far and wide to ride in the princess's train.

Miranda reached her father's palace just as the wedding ceremony began. As soon as she entered, everyone was struck with surprise at her beauty and the splendor of her jewels. She heard exclamations of admiration on all sides. The king her father looked at her so attentively that she was afraid he would recognize her. But he was so sure she was dead that the idea never occurred to him.

However, the fear of not getting away made her leave before the marriage was over. She went out hastily, leaving behind a little coral casket set with emeralds. On it was written in diamond letters: "Jewels for the Bride." When they opened it, as soon as it was found, there seemed no end to the pretty things inside. The king, who had hoped to meet the unknown princess and find out who she was, was dreadfully disappointed when she disappeared so suddenly. He ordered that if she ever came again, the doors should be shut so she could not get away so easily.

Short as Miranda's absence had been, it seemed like a hundred years to the King of the Sheep. He was waiting for her by a fountain in the thickest part of the forest. The ground was strewn with splendid presents he had prepared for her to show his joy and gratitude at her coming back.

As soon as she was in sight, he rushed to meet her, leaping and bounding like a real sheep. He caressed her tenderly, threw himself at her feet, and kissed her hands. He told her how uneasy he had been in her absence and how impatient for her return, with an eloquence that charmed her.

After some time, news came that the king's second daughter was going to be married. When Miranda heard it, she begged the King of the Sheep to allow her to go and see the wedding as before. This request made him feel very sad, as if some misfortune would surely come of it. But his love for the princess was stronger than anything else, so he did not like to refuse her.

"You wish to leave me, Princess," he said. "It is my unhappy fate—you are not to blame. I consent to your going. But believe me, I give you no stronger proof of my love than by doing so."

The princess assured him that she would only stay a very short time, as before, and begged him not to worry. She would be just as grieved if anything kept her away as he could possibly be.

So with the same escort, she set out. She reached the palace as the marriage ceremony began. Everybody was delighted to see her. She was so pretty that they thought she must be some fairy princess. The princes there could not take their eyes off her.

The king was more glad than anyone else that she had come again. He ordered that the doors should all be shut and bolted that very minute. When the wedding was almost over, the princess got up quickly, hoping to slip away unnoticed in the crowd. But to her great dismay, she found every door fastened.

She felt more at ease when the king came up to her and, with the greatest respect, begged her not to run away so soon. He asked her at least to honor him by staying for the splendid feast prepared for the princes and princesses. He led her into a magnificent hall where all the court was assembled. Taking up the golden bowl full of water, he offered it to her so she could dip her pretty fingers into it.

At this, the princess could no longer contain herself. Throwing herself at the king's feet, she cried out:

"My dream has come true after all! You have offered me water to wash my hands on my sister's wedding day, and it has not vexed you to do it."

The king recognized her at once. Indeed, he had already thought several times how much she looked like his poor little Miranda.

"Oh! My dear daughter," he cried, kissing her. "Can you ever forget my cruelty? I ordered you to be put to death because I thought your dream meant I would lose my crown. And so it did," he added, "for now your sisters are both married and have kingdoms of their own. Mine shall be for you." So saying, he put his crown on the princess's head and cried:

"Long live Queen Miranda!"

All the court cried: "Long live Queen Miranda!" after him. The young queen's two sisters came running up and threw their arms around her neck and kissed her a thousand times. Then there was such laughing and crying, talking and kissing, all at once. Miranda thanked her father and began to ask after everyone—especially the Captain of the Guard, to whom she owed so much. But to her great sorrow, she heard that he was dead.

Presently they sat down to the banquet. The king asked Miranda to tell them all that had happened to her since that terrible morning when he had sent the Captain of the Guard to fetch her. This she did with so much spirit that all the guests listened with breathless interest. But while she was thus enjoying herself with the king and her sisters, the King of the Sheep was waiting impatiently for the time of her return. When the time came and went, and no princess appeared, his anxiety became so great that he could bear it no longer.

"She is not coming back anymore," he cried. "My miserable sheep's face displeases her. Without Miranda, what is left to me, wretched creature that I am? Oh! Cruel Ragotte; my punishment is complete."

For a long time, he bewailed his sad fate like this. Then, seeing that it was growing dark and still there was no sign of the princess, he set out as fast as he could in the direction of the town. When he reached the palace, he asked for Miranda.

But by this time, everyone had heard the story of her adventures, and they did not want her to go back to the King of the Sheep. So they sternly refused to let him see her. In vain he begged and prayed them to let him in.

Though his entreaties might have melted hearts of stone, they did not move the guards of the palace. At last, quite broken-hearted, he fell dead at their feet.

In the meantime, the king, who had no idea of the sad thing happening outside his palace, proposed that Miranda should be driven in her chariot all around the town. The town was to be illuminated with thousands and thousands of torches placed in windows, balconies, and all the grand squares. But what a sight met her eyes at the very entrance of the palace! There lay her dear, kind sheep, silent and motionless, upon the pavement!

She threw herself out of the chariot and ran to him, crying bitterly. She realized that her broken promise had cost him his life. For a long, long time, she was so unhappy that they thought she would have died too.

So you see that even a princess is not always happy—especially if she forgets to keep her word. And the greatest misfortunes often happen to people just when they think they have obtained their heart's desires!