here was once a king and queen who ruled with the greatest kindness and simplicity imaginable; and their subjects were just such good folks as themselves, so that both parties agreed very well. As, however, there is no condition in the world which has not its cares and sorrows, so also this king and queen were not free from them; in fact, the peace of their lives was considerably disturbed by a fairy, who had patronised them from their earliest years. Fairy Grumble-do—that was her name—was incessantly finding fault, would repeat the same words a hundred times a day, and grumbled at every thing that was doing, and at all that had been done. Setting aside this little failing, she was in all other respects the best soul in the world, and it gave her the greatest satisfaction when she could oblige or serve anybody.

The union of the royal pair had hitherto proved childless, but whenever they besought Fairy Grumble-do to give them children, she invariably replied:—"Children! what do you want children for? To hear them squalling from morning till night, till you, as well as I, will be ready to jump out of our skins with the noise? What's the use of children? Nobody knows what to do with them; they only bring care and trouble!"

Some such remarks were all the king and queen got for their entreaties; and the fairy's ill-humour, and the snuffling tone in which she uttered these speeches made them quite unbearable. The good king and queen, however, never lost their patience, so that at last the fairy lost hers, and, in a pet, she all of a sudden gratified them with seven princes at a birth.

The queen remarked in her usual mild and quiet manner, that she had now a great many children, to which Fairy Grumble-do answered, snarlingly:—"Well, you wished for children, Madam queen, and now you have got them according to your wish, and in order that you may have enough of them, I shall just double the number."

No sooner said than done, and the queen brought into the world seven more princes at a birth. The royal pair were now quite in trouble; fourteen princes of the blood are, in fact, no joke; for however rich one may be, fourteen princes to nurse, educate, and establish handsomely, costs a good bit of money. Fairy Grumble-do was quite right there; fourteen princes do require a good deal of waiting on, and so she found plenty to do all day, with finding fault, and scolding first this attendant, then that nursemaid, then this servant, or that preceptor; and when she once got into the children's apartment, no one could hear himself speak, for the noise she made. Still at bottom she meant very kindly, and she promised the anxious queen that she would take good care of the princes, and one day provide for them all. Those old times were very good ones, and things were managed in royal residences with great simplicity. The young princes played all day with the children of the towns-people, because they went to the same school with them, and no one had a word to say against it, which would hardly be the case now-a-days, for kings and everybody else are grown much grander than they were then.

Quite close to the palace dwelt an honest charcoal-burner, who lived in his little cottage contentedly on what he earned by the sale of his charcoal. All his neighbours esteemed him as the worthiest man in the world, and the king himself had great confidence in his capacity, and would often ask his counsel in matters of government. He was called the coal-man throughout all the country, and no one within ten miles round would have any coals but from him, so that he had to serve every household, even those of the nobility and the fairies. Wherever he carried his coals, he was a favourite, and even little children were not afraid of him, and no one ever said to them, "Behave prettily, else the charcoal-burner will take you away." After working all day at his business, he went to his little cottage at night to rest, and to enjoy his freedom, for he was sole master in the house. His wife had been long dead, and had left him only one little daughter, called Gracious; for she was the prettiest creature in the world.

He loved this child beyond all measure; and, indeed, not without reason, for a prettier little maiden could not be found on earth; in spite of the coal-smoke that enveloped her, and her poor clothing, she always appeared charming and agreeable, and no one could help loving her on account of her wonderful amiability. The king's youngest son, little Prince Chaffinch, who was as sprightly as he was pretty, was extremely attached to Gracious, preferred her to all the other children of his acquaintance, and would play with no one but her, so that they were always seen together, and indeed, they could not live without one another. Meanwhile the worthy coal-man, who felt old age approaching, grew very anxious about the fate of Gracious, after he should have ceased to live; for the partiality of the king for him did not seem to him sufficient to put him at ease about her. "The king," he would say to himself, as he pondered on the subject, "has a large family of his own, and is obliged to ask so much of the fairy for his own necessities, that he surely will not have courage to put in a good word for my child. Even if he were to promise to do so, I should not depend on him. For"—thus he ever concluded his self-conferences, "the poor king, is in fact, worse off than I am; he has fourteen to provide for; I only one. His are princes; mine is only a poor burgher maid. Mine therefore will be easier to provide for. A poor girl like her can manage to get along in the world; she stands alone; but a poor prince never; hundreds hang about him, draining him, and consuming all his substance." Now, after thinking it over and over, he grew quite unhappy at heart, and he knew not what to do. So he went one day, head and heart full of care, to a very beneficent fairy, who had always behaved very kindly to him. She was called Fairy Bonbon; she it was, who, in order to please epicures, both small and great, invented those sweets which now bear her name. When the good fairy saw the coal-man in such trouble, she asked him what ailed him; and after he had given her a highly sensible reply, she promised him in good earnest, that she would take Gracious under her own care, and desired him to bring the child to her the following Sunday.

The coal-man obeyed punctually, and when the time came he made little Gracious put on her best clothes, and the new coloured little shoes he had bought for her the day before, and set off with his dear little daughter. Gracious skipped before him, then ran back to him, and took hold of his hand, saying:—"We are going to the castle, we are going to the castle!" for her father had not told her anything further about it.

When they arrived, Fairy Bonbon received them very kindly, but notwithstanding all was so fine in the castle, and that she had so many bonbons and other nice things, Gracious could not be happy when her father went away and left her behind. For the first time in her life she began to cry, and could scarcely leave off again. This touched the fairy extremely, so that she grew quite fond of Gracious, and all who were present said:—"My daughter would not cry so if she were obliged to part from me." But in time little Gracious became reconciled to her new residence, and was so obedient and docile that the good fairy Bonbon never had occasion to reprove her, nor even to tell her twice of the same thing, so that she took great delight in her.

When her father came to visit her, the pretty child always ran to meet him, and threw herself into his arms without fearing to soil the fine clothes which the fairy had given her. After kissing and caressing her dear papa to her heart's content, she always inquired after her friend, Prince Chaffinch, and sent him her best bonbons and toys. The coal-man always carried them very conscientiously to the prince, who never failed to send his thanks and a message to say how earnestly he longed to see her once again.

Thus Gracious lived till she was twelve years old, and then Fairy Bonbon, who was extraordinarily fond of her, took her father one day into her boudoir, and desired him to be seated, as she did not like to see the old man standing up in her presence. The coal-man excused himself at first, but the fairy insisted, so that at last he was obliged to obey, although it seemed to him a very strange thing to sit down in his clothes all covered with coal-dust on a white taffeta arm-chair, and he could not think how he should manage to prevent his jacket from leaving marks on it.

At last, however, the fairy constrained him to be seated; and she then said to him, "Old friend, I love your daughter."

"Honoured madam," replied he, "you are very kind; but indeed you are much in the right, for she is a very dear child."

"I wish now to consult with you what I shall do," said the fairy; "for you must know I shall be obliged shortly to travel for a considerable time in another country."

"Ah, madam, then do have the goodness to take her along with you," rejoined the coal-man.

"That is not in my power," answered she. "I can, however, provide very well for her. Only tell me what would be most agreeable to you that I should do for her."

"Then I would most humbly beg," replied the coal-man, "that you would have the kindness to make her queen of a little kingdom, just such a one as may please your ladyship."

Though gratified by this request, the fairy represented to him, that the higher the station, the more cares and sorrows it has; but the coal-man assured her in return, that cares and sorrows are to be found everywhere, and that those of royalty are the easiest to bear.

"I do not ask of you, most gracious madam fairy," continued he, "to make me a king. I prefer remaining a charcoal-burner; that is my trade, which I understand, and as for the trade of royalty, I do not think that I understand that at all. But Gracious is still young, and she can learn it, I'll be bound for it; it cannot, after all, be so very difficult, for I see every day that people manage it one way or another."

"Well," answered Fairy Bonbon, as she dismissed him, "I will see what I can do. I must tell you beforehand, however, that Gracious will have much to suffer, and she will find it very bitter."

"Very possible, gracious Madam Bonbon," replied he. "I also have gone through many bitter things, and have not gained very much after all, so have the kindness still to make a queen of her; I ask nothing."

With these words he took leave.

Meanwhile Fairy Grumble-do had provided for almost all the fourteen princes. She had sent some of them out into the wide world to seek their fortunes, whereby they had at last succeeded in obtaining kingdoms, and the rest she had wedded to rich princesses, so that at least they were safe from want. For little Prince Chaffinch, as yet, however, she had done nothing; so she came one day to court in her usual agreeable humour, and found papa and mamma caressing and fondling their child.

"Ha," said she, "that is a properly spoiled young gentleman, who will never be good for anything all his days. I lay any wager he does not know A from B. Repeat me your yesterday's lesson, sir, at once, and if you miss a single word, you shall have a proper whipping."

Chaffinch immediately repeated his lesson, which, as usual, he had learnt perfectly, and went through his examination in a style which was quite wonderful for his age. The king and queen did not dare to let their gratification at this appear, for fear thereby of redoubling Madam Grumble-do's ill-humour, for she now maintained that the instruction given to the prince was not worth a farthing; that it was far too difficult and too learned for him.

She then turned to the king and queen: "Pray, what is the reason of your never having asked me to do anything for him yet? It is just your way. I have been worried into providing for all your other simpletons—they are the most stupid kings reigning; but that one, of whom something might perhaps be made, is to be spoilt by you, just because he is your nest-quackel. But I will not allow it any longer. He shall go out, and directly too. He is a fine youth, and it would be a shame to leave him any longer with you. I will not have to reproach myself with that; folks know that I am your friend, and they shall not have to say that I encourage you in your follies. Now, let us have no words about it; let us consider together what is best to be done, for I am not at all obstinate; I am always willing to listen to good advice."

The king and queen said very politely that she must decide on that, for she knew very well that her will was theirs.

"Well then," replied Fairy Grumble-do, "he must travel; travelling gives a young man a proper finish."

"Very true," said both king and queen with one voice. "But," continued the queen, "consider that the outfit of the other princes very much exhausted our coffers, and that just at present we have not the means wherewith to send out Chaffinch in a style befitting his rank. It would be very unpleasant for folks to say, 'That is the son of a king, and he travels like a poor student.'"

"So, that's your vanity, is it?" growled the fairy; "truly vanity is vastly becoming to people who have fourteen children. You say the other youths have cost you so much; then, I did nothing for them, I suppose; you leave all that out of your calculation. Pray, what did they cost you? Just their bits of meals when they were at home, and a couple of boxes full of clothes when they went on their travels. Who found all the rest? Not you, truly; it was I; but you are a pair of ungrateful creatures, so you are."

"Kind madam," answered the queen, "my husband has set down all the expenses in the account-book; you can convince yourself."

"A pretty thing, indeed," rejoined Fairy Grumble-do. "Pray, how long has it been in fashion for a king to keep a debtor-and-creditor ledger like a tailor? That sounds vastly regal, truly. What is the use of all the good counsels I have given you, if this is the way you conduct yourselves. Shame on you! However, I will not worry myself, but I will put an end to the thing at once. The youth is as giddy as a butterfly, and wherever he goes he will be telling everybody 'I am a prince and my father is a king,' Is it not so, eh?"

"Dearest madam godmamma," interposed Prince Chaffinch, "I will say nothing but what you desire me to say."

"Wait till you are asked, Master Pert!" rejoined she; "you shall say nothing at all, and I'll take care to prevent you from opening your self-sufficient beak. Only wait a moment!"

As she blustered out this, she touched him with her wand, and transformed him into the little bird which to this day bears his name. The king and queen wished to embrace him, but there was no doing that any longer now he had become so small; they could only set him on their fingers. They had scarcely time to kiss him even, for he flew off, in obedience to the fairy, who pronounced these terrible words: "Fly where thou canst; do what thou must."

The tears of the king and queen, it is true, did move Fairy Grumble-do a little, but she would not let that be seen, and merely said, "That is just like you; you are served quite rightly," and then she seated herself in her post-chaise, which was drawn by seven magpies and seven cocks, who made a shocking noise; and off she drove in a very ill-humour to the assembly of the fairies, which was held that very day.

By chance she was seated next to the kind fairy Bonbon, and as the mouth is prompt to speak about that of which the heart is full, she related to the latter all the trouble she had had in providing suitably for the fourteen princes; during which narration she did not fail to give it well to the king and queen, just as if they were present. At last she asked her colleague if she happened to have a kingdom or a princess to bestow on Prince Chaffinch.

Fairy Bonbon, notoriously the best-hearted creature in the world, who was quite averse to this incessant scolding, told her that she would willingly undertake to find one, but only on condition that Fairy Grumble-do should not interfere in it, and permit her first to put the young prince to the proof.

"Do what you please," resumed the latter, speaking more through her nose than ever—"do what you please, so that I hear no more about the matter."

She then renounced all her fairy rights over Prince Chaffinch, and then drew up a formal contract, which they both signed with their own hands in presence of the lawyer and of competent witnesses.

Bonbon, who soon perceived that her two protegÉ's were well suited to each other, resolved to look still closer into the matter, in order to proceed the more securely, and to make Gracious truly happy. But she was much pressed for time as the day of her departure was irrevocably fixed, and was rapidly approaching. She had therefore to devise some means by which the two might have an opportunity of working out their own destiny by faith and truth. The first thing she did, therefore, was to catch Chaffinch, whose natural sprightliness caused him to delight greatly in flying about, to shut him up in a cage, and bring him to her castle.

As soon as the young enchanted prince beheld Gracious he was very joyful, flapped his wings, and tried with all his strength to get out of the cage and fly to her. He was delighted, however, when she said to him, "Good morrow, my little bird; dear, how beautiful you are!" Yet he felt grieved at the same time that he could only answer her by his twittering, but he did that as agreeably as he could, and made every demonstration of tenderness that a bird could. This greatly touched Gracious, though she did not in the least suspect the truth; and she said, quite unreservedly to Bonbon, that she had always been particularly fond of chaffinches; at which the kind fairy smiled, and made her a present of the enchanted prince, on condition of her taking care of him as of the apple of her eye. This Gracious willingly promised, and did so too with the greatest satisfaction.

When the day came for the fairy to depart, she said to Gracious, "Take great care of the chaffinch, and never let him out of the cage; for were he to fly away, I should be extremely displeased."

She then entered her carriage, which was made of silver-paper. Her castle, her garden, her domestics and her horses, all went off through the air with her, and Gracious now remained alone and sorrowful in her little house of porcelain, which assuredly was very pretty; but what avails prettiness when one is sad? The garden was constantly full of cherries, gooseberries, oranges, and, in short, of all imaginable fruits, always ripe and well-flavoured; the oven, of biscuits, tea-cakes, and macaroons; the store-room, of sweetmeats and confectionery of all kinds: and all these good things might well have consoled her, but she could not enjoy them, for the little chaffinch slept unbrokenly in his cage. She visited him every five minutes, but still he did not wake, and she mentally reproached the fairy with having robbed her of such sweet consolation. At last, after trying vainly every means of awaking him, she resolved to examine him closer, to see if she could not discover the fairy's secret.

It is true she did not arrive at this resolution without that uneasiness and self-reproach which one always feels when acting contrary to an express command. She even opened the cage several times, and then shut it again suddenly; but at last she blamed herself for her timidity, summoned courage, and took the bird in her pretty little hand. No sooner was he out of the cage than he flew out and perched on the window-frame, which most unfortunately she had not closed, so little had she thought on what might occur to her. Embarrassed and alarmed, she endeavoured to catch him again.

The chaffinch flew into the garden, and she jumped out of the window, which fortunately was on the ground-floor; but such was her anxiety that she would have sprung out, had it been on the fourth story. Calling him by the prettiest and tenderest names, she sought to entice him, but whenever she fancied she would certainly catch him, off he flew, from the garden to the field, and on towards a great forest, which filled her with despair, for she knew perfectly well how useless it would be to hunt after a chaffinch in a forest; when suddenly, the bird, of which she had never lost sight, turned into the prince as she had seen him when she was a child.

"What! is it you, Prince Chaffinch," exclaimed she,—"and you fly me?"

"Yes, it is I, lovely Gracious," replied he; "but a supernatural force obliges me to keep far from thee; I desire to approach thee, and cannot."

They now indeed perceived that they were always at least four paces distant from each other. Gracious, enraptured at again seeing the prince, forgot how disobedient she had been to the fairy, and her fears grew calm, in proportion as love took possession of her heart.

As neither of them dared return to the little dwelling which they had left, nor indeed did they know the way back, they went into the wood, gathered nuts, and asked each other a hundred questions as to what had occurred since they last met. They then rejoiced at their good fortune in being again together, and refreshed themselves with the hope of now remaining near each other. At last they saw a peasant's hut, and went to it to request shelter for the night, that they might resolve on what they should do the next day.

The prince, when they got very near to it, said to Gracious, "Wait here under this great tree, whilst I go and reconnoitre the house and its inhabitants."

When he got there, he found a woman who was sweeping before her door, and of her he inquired if she would receive him and Gracious for the night into her house.

The old woman answered: "You seem to me to be two disobedient children, who have run away from your parents, and do not deserve to meet with compassion."

Chaffinch was, to say the truth, a little embarrassed by this remark, but he said all sorts of flattering things to her, and offered to labour for her; in short, he spoke like a lover willing to make any sacrifice for his beloved, for he began to fear that Gracious would have to pass the night in the wood, exposed to the wolves, of which he had heard such terrible stories.

Whilst he was trying to persuade the hard-hearted old woman, it happened that the giant Koloquintius, the king, or to speak more accurately, the tyrant of the whole district, who was hunting in the wood, rode past the very spot where Gracious was waiting. He thought her surprisingly charming, and was a good deal astonished that she did not think him equally so, nor appear to be enchanted at seeing him. Without saying a word to her, he desired one of his suite to lift up the little maiden and place her under his arm, which being done, he set spurs to his horse, and galloped off to his capital city.

The cries and lamentations of Gracious did not move him in the least, and she now—when it was too late—repented of her disobedience. Her cries disturbed Prince Chaffinch and the old woman in their conversation; the former ran towards the spot where he had left Gracious; but who can describe his grief, when he saw her under the giant's arm! Had he been there at the right moment, he would have endeavoured at the risk of his life to prevent that deed of violence, but now he had nothing to do but to follow her. But night overtook him, he lost sight of her, and quite exhausted, he sat down to give free course to his grief and tears.

As he sat, he perceived, close to him, a little light, like that of a glow-worm. At first he paid no attention to it, but the light grew larger and larger, and at last changed into a female clothed in a brown garment, who said to him: "Console thyself, Chaffinch, do not give way to despair; take this flask, which is made of a gourd, and this shepherd's pouch; thou wilt find them always filled with whatever thou desirest to eat and drink. Take also this hazel-rod, and when thou hast need of me, put it under thy left foot and call me; I will always come to thy assistance. This little dog is commanded never to leave thee, thou may'st want him. Farewell, Chaffinch. I am the kind Bonbon."

Chaffinch was already greatly moved by these gifts, but when he heard the name which Gracious had so often pronounced, he sank at the fairy's feet, embraced her knees, and cried: "Ah, beneficent lady, Gracious has been carried off, how is it possible that your Highness did not hasten to deliver her?"

"I know what has befallen her," replied Bonbon,—"but she was disobedient, I want not to know anything about her; thou alone must aid her."

At these words, the light and the fairy disappeared, and Chaffinch sat in such darkness that he could not see his hand when he held it before his eyes. He was however, much comforted by thinking that he could now be of assistance to Gracious, though fear and anxiety still tormented him greatly, and his new friend, the little dog, was unable by all its caresses to divert him.

At last, the longed-for day dawned, and he was now able to continue his wanderings. Towards evening he arrived at the chief city, where he found everybody talking only of Gracious' beauty, and of Koloquintius' passion for her. It was said that the giant was very shortly to marry her, and that he had already commenced building a palace for the new queen. This news cut little Chaffinch to the heart.

When the people with whom he was speaking, saw his shepherd's pouch, they said, "This is a handsome little shepherd, why should he not tend the king's sheep? His majesty is in want of a shepherd, and would no doubt confer that high office upon him."

The desire of being near Gracious determined Chaffinch to take this hint. He therefore presented himself before Koloquintius, who regarded him attentively: as he only asked for courteous treatment, and required no wages, the king appointed him to be his own private shepherd. His new office did not, however, bring him into the vicinity of Gracious, so that he did not gain much thereby. He only learned that Koloquintius was very melancholy because Gracious did not respond to his love, and this comforted him a little.

Some days after, as he was following his sheep, he saw a state carriage, attended by twelve negroes on horseback, with drawn swords, quit the palace, and in this carriage sat Gracious. Little Chaffinch heroically threw himself in the way of the horses, held his shepherd's staff before them, and thundered out with his feeble voice, "Wretches! whither go you?"

When Gracious saw her Chaffinch in such great peril, she fainted, and he also lost his senses. When he came to himself, he seized his hazel wand,—instantly the good Bonbon stood beside him.

"Ah, kind lady!" said he, "Gracious is lost, perhaps already dead!"

"No," replied the Fairy, "Koloquintius is only sending her to the tower because he is furious at her coldness to him, and her fidelity to thee. Consider how thou may'st get thither also; think for thyself. I will assist thee; only I cannot change thee into a bird, because thou hast already been one; at all events Gracious will have much to suffer, for the tower is a terrible prison, but it serves her quite right,—why was she disobedient?"

Thereupon she vanished.

The prince, in great distress, conducted (that is, his little dog did it for him) the king's sheep along the road which the carriage that conveyed Gracious had taken, and he shortly came within sight of the terrible tower, which stood in the midst of a great plain, and had neither windows nor doors, only a small aperture at the top; it could only be entered by a subterranean passage, the entrance to which was concealed in a neighbouring mountain, which it was necessary to point out to those who were unacquainted with it. Prince Chaffinch was very glad that he had received such a clever little dog from the fairy, for it did all his business for him, whilst he kept his eyes constantly fixed on the tower. The more he considered, the more he was convinced of the impossibility of getting into it; but love, which conquers all difficulties, at last inspired him with a plan.

After he had lamented a thousand times that he could not again be a bird, he besought the good fairy Bonbon, to change him into a paper kite. She granted his request, and conferred on his little dog the power of effecting the transformation; he barked three times, took the hazel-rod in his mouth, and touched the prince with it, who now became a paper kite, with power to resume his own form as occasion might require. Then, by the aid of his faithful dog, the prince succeeded in first reaching the top of the tower, and then getting within it to Gracious.

It was no small delight to her to hear the assurances of his love, nor was it a less one to him to hear the same from her, and gratefully did he express his acknowledgments—for, in spite of his altered form, he still retained his speech. The pleasures of this conversation would have caused him to forget altogether that he could not remain for ever in the tower, and that he must feed his flock, if the little dog, more faithful to duty than he, had not pulled the string to which he was fastened, just at the right moment.

Chaffinch no sooner reached the ground, than he resumed his own figure, and drove the flock back again to the royal sheepfold; but his whole thought was on the pleasure of flying to his dear Gracious, which caused him to be greatly vexed whenever the wind blew too strongly for him to be able to ascend, and Gracious shared in his grief.

Thus they went on for some time; but as there are always to be found people who interfere in what does not concern them, others who want to know everything, and still more, others who are always striving to show themselves very obliging to the great and rich; it was soon observed by some of these, that the kite very often descended from the dark tower. Koloquintius was informed of it; he instantly went thither, in order to punish the audacious persons who dared to convey letters in this manner to Gracious, for it never struck him that the kite could serve for any other purpose. Chaffinch and Gracious were just in the most interesting conversation, when they were disturbed from it by the vehemence with which the faithful dog pulled back the prince, for Koloquintius ran up to him, exclaiming vehemently: "Where is the shepherd, where is the shepherd? I must kill him, because he has not informed me of what is going on here."

The dog, fearing that Koloquintius might take the string out of his mouth, and so get the prince into his own hands, let the kite fly, which was carried far away by the wind, which happened to be very high, and catching up the gourd flask, and the shepherd's pouch, ran off to his master, whom he loved very much, and who now had resumed his own figure. Favoured by the approaching night, they concealed themselves in the mountains, whilst Koloquintius, foaming with rage, was obliged to drive his sheep home himself. In order that no one should approach little Gracious, he caused his whole army to draw up on the plain, and commanded them to watch day and night, that no one whatsoever should approach the tower.