Funestine and Other Adventures in Romancia Page 5

  The princess was about to continue her discourse when a squeal she heard prevented her from doing so. Looking down at the ground she was surprised to see a white viper, which was hurling fire from its eyes, and which said to her: “You nearly crushed me, Madame. If I weren’t as good as I am, I’d punish you for your stupidity, but I forgive you, on condition that you put me back on the trunk of the chestnut tree that you can see, from which I’ve just fallen. I’ll recognize that service one day, for I’m a fay, but like all my sisters, I’m obliged to quit my natural form one day a week to take one that was given to me by an old sorcerer on which we depend. He punished us in that fashion for having cut off his beard and moustache, which displeased us greatly, one day while he was asleep. I’ll resume my ordinary form this evening and you’ll have news of me.”

  Aimée picked it up, trembling, carried it to the tree, and drew away promptly in order not to see the animal any longer, which had frightened her horribly.

  She arrived at the castle, and found Aigremine there, who was sending someone on the queen’s behalf to invite King Sincere to spend a few days at the palace.

  Those orders frightened Aimée at first, because she was aware of her sister’s malevolence, but it did not take long for her to be reassured, because one of Aigremine’s maidservants confided to her the adventure that the elder princess had had in the forest, which the princess had related to her.

  Sincere was surprised by the invitation that the queen had sent him. His first impulse was to refuse politely, but, making the reflection that he would see every day the beautiful princess that he loved, he determined to go, and leapt into a caleche that had been sent for him.

  He was awaited at the castle with impatience, but that impatience had various motives. All the ladies were curious to see a man made differently than all others. Finally, he arrived, and received the honors that were due to his rank. Aigremine gave him a very agreeable welcome; she was extraordinarily adorned, and without the beauty of her sister one might have thought that she was the most beautiful woman in the world. In spite of all her cares, however, she had the chagrin of seeing that day, and those that followed, that Sincere was untouched by her charms; his gaze was incessantly turned toward Aimée.

  Aigremine’s irritation was inconceivable; she had put everything to work in order to please the most frightful of mortals, without being able to succeed. Anything that offends a lady’s self-esteem is never pardoned, so she became furious against the prince and the princess. What would she not have given to prevent them seeing one another! But that was not possible, for the king had the liberty to talk to her, and sought opportunities to do so. They presented themselves frequently, and Aimée did not refuse the pleasure of talking to him.

  The younger princess was walking one day in one of the paths of the park when she perceived a ball than was rolling very rapidly, and stopped when it was close to her. The ball opened, and a little woman emerged who, suddenly growing, became ten or twelve feet tall.

  “I am the fay Farouche,” she said to the princess, “to whom you rendered a service not long ago.”

  Aimée recognized her, because she was emitting fire from her eyes like the white viper she had put in the tree. She saluted her very respectfully.

  The fay told her that the amity she had for her had engaged her to ask the princess her mother for her in marriage, for her nephew, King Papillon; that she had just come from the queen’s cabinet; that the queen had given her consent; and that in two days the prince would arrive to marry her.

  That news, which would have given great pleasure to many princesses, afflicted young Aimée sensibly; she was so troubled by it that she did not have the strength to respond a single word to the fay. Farouche, imagining that it was joy that was preventing her from speaking, kissed her on the forehead, and, bidding her adieu, put herself back in her ball, which went back the way it had come.

  Cephise arrived immediately thereafter, coming to tell the princes that the queen wanted to speak to her; she therefore went to see her. Without giving her time to respond, the queen told her to be ready in two days to receive Prince Papillon as her husband.

  Aimée threw herself to her knees and begged her to withdraw the promise she had given to Farouche. The queen was inflexible; she feared the power of the fays, and, in the hope that the fay might one day give her evidence of her amity, she told her daughter that she wanted her to obey. The princess dared not respond, and withdrew, very afflicted.

  Aigremine, who, at any other time, would have been jealous of the preference that the fay had given her sister, was delighted by it, flattering herself that Sincere, no longer seeing Aimée, might attach himself to her.

  Such catastrophic news soon reached the unfortunate king’s ears; he fell dangerously ill in consequence.

  Meanwhile, the day when the fay’s nephew was to be presented arrived. The queen, the princess and the entire court went to meet him. Scarcely were they on the terrace when they saw in the far distance a sort of very bright cloud, which approached at high speed. No one doubted that it was the prince. It was, in fact, him; he was in a diamond chariot drawn by ten thousand butterflies, all pink. They were attached by golden threads interlaced very artfully; a hundred young lords followed their master in crystal caleches garnished with rubies and emeralds, similarly drawn by butterflies, but those were white.

  The king descended and stopped his chariot as soon as he was next to the ladies. He came toward them with all his retinue, in the finest order in the world. He was magnificently dressed, and no man had ever been more powdered and better curled than he appeared at that moment; he must have spent at least three hours on his toilette. The fear he had of deranging his hairstyle caused him to walk very gently, but that did not prevent him from having a very fine appearance; everyone admired and commented on the freshness of his complexion and the whiteness of his hands. There was nothing prettier than his face, with which he appeared to be infatuated himself.

  He recognized the princess easily from the description that the fay had given him, and having approached his mistress, he gave her the most studied of reverences. After having presented her his hand, he said to Aimée: “This is not an appropriate place to make a compliment on your beauty; the air is too hot; can one chat at one’s ease on a terrace exposed to the ardor of the sun? Let us go inside, and not run the risk of becoming as black as Africans.”

  Having said that, he set off for the castle; he barely saluted the queen and the other ladies of her retinue. After entering a large drawing room with the princess and those accompanying her, which was prepared to receive him, he threw himself on to a sofa, saying that the heat was stifling him, and, adopting a pinched expression that was not very respectful, he asked the princess to forgive him for not conversing with her; he told her that it was absolutely necessary for him to take a little repose, and that he had to cool down before being able to resolve to talk.

  Immediately he took from his pockets several little bottles garnished with diamonds, filled with scented water. He spread some over his hands, and then opened several golden snuff-boxes studded with precious stones. Then he hummed a little tune through his teeth, which he only ended in order to ask the princess whether she found his equipage vey brilliant, and whether the coat, which he had chosen from among two hundred, was to her liking. His conversation fell thereafter upon the amour that several women had had for him.

  It can easily be imagined whether such discourse was to the taste of the beautiful Aimée, who preferred intelligence and good sense to anything else, and who was not like others of her sex, whom a magnificent coat, well tailored, and a few other scarcely estimable embellishments touched more forcefully than a good heart and a delicate and natural mind. She easily conceived such a strong dislike for him that she left the room, saying that she felt ill, and retired to her apartment to hide her sadness and her tears.

  Although Sincere was very ill, he dragged himself there shortly thereafter in order to ask for her news. The p
rincess sighed on seeing him, and said: “Oh, Prince, why isn’t it you for whom the queen has destined me? Can you not tear me away from the one with whom they want to unite me?”

  Sincere, transported, took one of her hands, kissed it tenderly, and said to her: “What! Can it be true, beautiful Aimée, that you would rather live with me than with a prince whose beauty and fine attire are admired by everyone? Made as I am, could I be fortunate enough not to displease you? Reply to me please; your response would make the happiness or the unhappiness of my life.”

  “Yes, Sire,” she said to him, “I love you. That confession...”

  She was about to continue, but Sincere, making a backward leap, became tiny—so tiny that in the end, she could no longer see him. A thick smoke appeared in his stead, and when it had dissipated, the princess saw before her a young man as beautiful as the day, whose appearance, simultaneously noble, gentle and intelligent, inspired a certain I-know-not-what that made one love him as soon as one saw him. She looked at him, therefore, with as much admiration as surprise, but she was even more astonished when he said to her with all imaginable graces: “The charming confession that you have just made, Madame, has put an end to my enchantment. I am Sincere, who, under an unpleasant form, has been bold enough to tell you that he adored you.

  Aimée recognized him by the sound of his voice, and allowed the joy that she felt on finding him so different from what he had been before to burst forth. She begged him to tell her how such a similar metamorphosis could have taken place.

  “I am the king,” he said, “of the Isle of Sincerity. I reigned there peacefully, loved by all my subjects. One day, I was hunting with a great deal of ardor a lion that had escaped me several times; I became lost, and found myself in a path where I perceived a woman made as I was a moment ago. I looked at her, and could not help laughing on seeing her spinning on her leg like a top. She perceived that, and, becoming angry, asked me what I was laughing at. Politeness prevented me from making the confession to her, but in the end she pressed me so forcefully that I admitted the effect that the singularity of her figure had had on me. My sincerity displeased her; she frowned.

  “She turned three or four somersaults, after which she said to me: ‘To punish you for your insolence, I want you to become similar to me. Nothing will be able to return you to our natural state unless you can find a princess who unites intelligence, generosity and beauty, for whom you feel a violent amour, and whom, in spite of your deformity, you can inspire sufficiently to obtain the confession of her tenderness. You can, however, resume your natural form for one hour every day, but only in a subterrain in a forest that belongs to King Dévideur. I also want it to be prohibited for you to relate or misfortune to anyone in the world until you are no longer enchanted.’

  “I listened to those threats patiently; I thought they would have no effect; but imagine my dolor when, after that frightful fay—for that is what she was—had blown upon me, I found myself transformed like her, and I saw her draw away from her laughing with all her might. I no longer dared to return to my palace, nor to proclaim my birth, convinced that no one would believe me. The desire I had to recover my original condition determined me to travel in various kingdoms and see various courts, in the hope of finding a princess such as the fay had described to me, but it was in vain.

  “I wearied of the search, therefore, and made the resolution to live in some corner of the world distant from all commerce. I chose the rock where you saw me. I had been living there for a year when I had the good fortune of seeing you for the first time; you appeared to me to be a divinity, and I sensed that you were the only one who could inspire amour in me, without daring to hope that I might inspire it in you in my turn, or think that it might be possible or you to become accustomed to seeing me. I sometimes went into the subterrain in the forest to have the satisfaction of finding myself for a few minutes as I am. I was surprised one day to see the princess, your sister, because a talisman forbade entry to all mortals. I pretended to be asleep, in order not to speak to her, and because I sensed that the moment of my transformation was about to arrive. It did, in fact, as soon as she had left the cabinet. I left the subterrain then by a route unknown to anyone but me. She left too, because it was impossible for her to return to the apartment where she had seen me. She had just completed her twentieth year, and her ring only had virtue until she had attained that age.

  “That, my dear Aimée, is my story. It only remains or me now to swear an eternal tenderness to you and to beg you to suffer that I make every effort with regard to the queen, your mother, for her to accord you to my amour, and to permit you to come and reign in my estates, where you will find everyone eager to please you.”

  As he finished speaking, he saw Aigremine and Farouche came in; they had been listening to their conversation. Both of them were furious, the fay because Aimée had disdained her nephew, and Aigremine because Prince Sincere, whom she recognized as the charming man she had seen in the subterrain, was in love with her sister. She allowed her anger to burst forth against the two lovers, but Farouche concluded by dispute by approaching the unfortunate Aimée and, taking her by the curls of hair that were dangling from her coiffure, she flew away with her through the window, without the despairing king being able to raise the slightest obstacle to it.

  He went out immediately, in spite of Aigremine, who tried to stop him. Without knowing where he was going, he drew away from the palace, resolved to take no repose until he had recovered his dear princess.

  The King of the Butterflies, when he heard the news, started to laugh; he found the story very much to his taste, and returned to his kingdom.

  In the meantime, his good aunt was carrying Aimée away as fast as she could. After having traversed several large deserts and sheer rocks she arrived at the foot of an iron tower; at her order the door opened; she made the unfortunate princess enter and took her to a large hall full of snails; she told her, in a bitter tone, that since she did not want to consent to marry King Papillon it was necessary that within a week she had taught those snails to dance, or she would take the form of one of those loathsome animals herself.

  After making that threat, Farouche flew away, and the princess allowed tears to flow in abundance, without having the slightest desire to obey her. Let us leave her to weep at her leisure and return to King Sincere.

  That prince, after having traversed several countries, found himself in a forest. After he had walked for a few paces he perceived a house made of leaves, and on the doorstep of the house a little old woman who was wearing a pair of spectacles on her nose, which she was using to read a vellum book. He went past her without stopping and without paying any attention to her, and even continued on his way, but she shouted to him to stop, and said to him in a hoarse voice, while shaking her head: “Prince, you’re searching in vain; you can’t encounter your princess until you’ve found a shining frog, an extremely ugly woman who is aware of her ugliness and doesn’t seek to please, and a man devoid of intelligence who doesn’t flatter himself with having some.”

  The king knew by that fashion of talking that he was dealing with another fay, and he therefore asked her to give him other means to find his charming Aimée, but her only response was to pull a face, with a loud burst of laughter and to go back into her house. He continued on his away, therefore, extremely weary, afflicted and more uncertain than ever of the road to follow,

  He had not taken a hundred paces when he encountered another old woman who asked him the cause of his chagrin. He recounted his misfortunes, without forgetting what the fay he had just seen had said to him. He added that he could not flatter himself with the hope of ever seeing his dear Aimée again, if it were true that his happiness depended on finding a shining frog, which appeared to be impossible, although the other two conditions gave him less anxiety.

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” replied the good woman, “they’re scarcely more within the rules of possibility. However, you might find all three things by sear
ching for them. But if you haven’t discovered them in a year’s time, take my advice and abandon yourself to despair; you’ll be too unhappy on earth. Go, I can’t tell you anymore. Don’t let my sister, whom you’ve just quit, see you here; she’s malevolent and you might experience some perfidy in consequence. She’s only told you the means of getting your princess out of the place where she is because she’s convinced that you can’t make use of it.”

  The prince, who feared enchantments, went away without delay, and traveled the world with the aid of a horse that he had found, very fortunately, when he emerged from the wood.

  He searched scrupulously in towns, castles and villages for the ugliest women and the most stupid men; he encountered a great many, but he noticed that all the women, young and old, persisted in their toilettes and even had the hope of pleasing after making some repairs to their faces. He saw many who, with a stick of rouge, a few artfully-placed beauty spots and a great many flowers and ribbons, imagined that someone might find them lovable in spite of their ugliness, and believed that they could compete in charms with the prettiest women. That ordinary effect of self-esteem did not surprise the prince—he knew that all women brought that good opinion of themselves with them in being born—but what astonished him was encountering the same self-esteem just as strongly among men, as well as all the petty foibles that attract so much scorn to the fair sex.

  He had always heard it said that men were the most perfect work of nature, and he had believed that discourse without delving too deeply into the matter; but he thought very differently when he had studied those supposedly perfect creatures; he discovered easily that the majority were only occupied with trifles. He saw that some divided their days between their dressing-tables and the gaming table, or, what was worse, in feigning passion, without experiencing any veritable passion. He recognized that others appeared in their companies, not in order to reason there with intelligence and good sense, but only to repeat a few insipid points that they had heard said elsewhere, a few quips taken from a book, and to show off the expensive rings, jewels and all the magnificence of which fortune had made them a present. They mingled with others even more stupid who believed themselves to be very amusing. He saw some who babbled continually without knowing what they were saying and did not perceive that they were causing those who were patient enough to listen to them to yawn; others who thought they were pleasing others by repeating badly stories that they had already told a hundred times before; and others, finally, who did not say a word because they did not know what to say, imagining that their silence was a mark of intelligence.