Princess Fortunata

GEORGE never was able to remember clearly what happened in the magician's castle. He used afterward to tell the story in bits, and Mother put all the bits together, little by little, just as one sews a counterpane, until there was a whole story. How long he was there, whether he felt afraid, whether it was only a dream, whether it was all magic—who knows?—and, after all, what does it matter?

He first remembers that he was going upstairs. Not ordinary stairs, you know, like those in your house. No; these stairs were quite different. They were moving all the time. As fast as he mounted one step, two and even three steps moved up, so that he was always farther and farther away from the top. He was very puzzled for some time to know what to do. So at last he stopped and repeated the magic charm. Then the steps began to move in the opposite direction.

Now the steps had stopped moving, and began to curl and wind in the most vexing manner. Round and round they went, and round and round went George, until he was quite giddy.

"These stairs are always coming back to the same place, I declare!" he thought. "This will never do. I shall go on climbing until this time next year, and oh, shan't I be tired!"

Again he repeated the charm, and the stairs became straight as a straight line. Up and up he went. Would they never end?

He was at the top and standing before a door which was closed. He turned the handle; he pushed and pushed.... He seemed to hear somebody laughing, and laughing in a very disagreeable, ill-tempered way. It sounded as if it came from inside the room, or whatever it was behind the door. George became very angry. He just hated anybody laughing at him. He would show them what he could do!

He must remember to say the charm sooner next time. But it was so difficult to remember anything in this queer place!

Where was he now? There seemed to be faces—thousands of faces—peeping at him from every side, from every hole, and from every corner.

Where had he seen these faces before? He couldn't tell, and yet he knew them.... Why, of course! They were the reflections of his own face in mirrors, hundreds and thousands of mirrors! How very strange it looked! Well, there was nothing to be afraid of.

The mirrors grew dull and duller, and then bright and brighter. George saw himself wherever he looked; even the ceiling and the floor seemed made of glass. How horrid! Even if you were very good-looking you wouldn't like to see nothing but your own face, would you?

There must be a door somewhere.... If he didn't find the door soon he would become enchanted, and that would never do.... What had he forgotten?... Ah, the charm!

He was standing on the bank of a great river. It was very dark, and he could scarcely see a foot in front of him, but he could hear the roar of the water as it went rushing and roaring by.

Was it his fancy, or were there voices mocking him? It sounded as if they were saying something. "Ooooh! Ooooh! Ooooh! It is so-oo-oo co-o-old! Hoo-oo! As co-old as i-ice!"

"I can't swim a little bit," thought George. "Even Alexander couldn't swim across this horrible river.... I wonder if I counted 'one, two, three!' and jumped in, whether I should be drowned.... One ... two...."

Could that be Alexander's bark in the far-away distance? "Jump in, George!" the dear dog seemed to be saying.

Well, this was an adventure!... "One, two...."

The river had disappeared. George found himself in a most wonderful garden. The sun was shining overhead in a blue sky, and everywhere he looked he could see nothing but flowers.... What a perfectly delightful scent! The grass was so soft, too. He must just sit down and rest for a moment....

He began to feel very thirsty.... Why, there were lovely pears and apples on those trees over there. He must just pluck one!... He felt so tired, and it was so cool sitting in the shade. He could almost hear little voices singing a lullaby to him....

What was the good of bothering about anything? It was ever so jolly here.... Wouldn't it be fun if Alexander were here too! What races they would run!... No, they would just lie down together and.... Hark! Was that Alexander's bark once more? "Wake up! Wake up!"

What a bother! But the sound kept ringing in his ears, and slowly—oh, so slowly!—he walked toward a little door in the garden wall.

He was walking down a long passage, and on each side of him were doors. He could not make up his mind which door to open. Never mind! It didn't matter very much. Perhaps they weren't real, but only magic doors. He opened the next door he came to and walked into ... no, not a room, but just a little space scarcely as large as a cupboard, with a door in the wall facing him.

He opened that, and found himself facing another door.

"This is a bother!" he thought. "Just like a Chinese box-trick. You open one box and then you find another inside it, and then another inside that. They keep on getting smaller and smaller until.... Why, this place is getting smaller!"... And so it was!... He had hardly room to move now.

He turned round to go back again, but found the door shut behind him.

"I'll just open one more." He opened it, and found himself in a most beautiful room, and there, lying on a couch fast asleep, was—the Princess Fortunata! Just like a story-book, isn't it?

Now it is just here that George's story begins to get a little patchy, like the counterpane.

He remembers trying to wake the Princess. She remained fast asleep in spite of all that he did. She was very beautiful, just like a pink and white rose, but he could not remember what dress she wore, or what the colour of her hair was, or anything else at all, so you must make up the rest of it for yourselves.

He woke her up at last. Did he kiss her, like the Prince in Sleeping Beauty? He never remembered—or said that he didn't remember. I wonder!

She opened her eyes and gazed at him, as if just awakening from a dream.

What did she say? What do princesses say to brave knights who rescue them from enchantment?

You may be sure that she said just the right things. Princesses always do. They are taught the right words to say by their governesses, in case they might become enchanted when they grow up. You never know what a fairy god-mother may do, especially if she be a bad fairy!

Now came the hardest part of all—to escape with the Princess from the enchanted castle.

The Princess took George gently by the hand like a nice, kind, grown-up sister, and said: "We must hasten. In another moment the wicked magician will be here, and then we are lost!"

So they ran hand in hand to the door and down a passage. "Faster!" cried the Princess, and George ran faster than he had ever run before.

"Faster, faster!" cried the Princess again, and on and on they sped until George wondered if there was any end at all to the passage.

Suddenly, boom! boom!—like the rolling of thunder!

"The magician is coming! Hasten, oh, hasten!" On and on they ran.

Boo-oom! Closer and closer! Faster and faster the two ran, until it seemed as if they were flying through the air.

Boom! It sounded almost in their very ears. They caught sight of a little door, so tiny you could scarcely see it, and rushed toward it; George pulled it open, pushed the Princess through, and was just going to follow her when—crash!