GRACIOSA AND PERCINET
A FRENCH STORY
THERE was once a King who was so rich that it would have been impossible for him to spend all his money, and yet his greatest wish was still to keep adding to his treasure.
The King’s wife had died and left him but one child, a daughter named Graciosa. This Princess was so beautiful, so kind and so gentle that she was beloved by all about her. The King also loved her dearly,—more dearly indeed than anything in the world except his treasure, but that was always first in his thoughts and his affections.
One day the King set out with his attendants to hunt in a forest near by.
The huntsmen soon started a deer that bounded away through the forest. The King followed it for a long distance, farther than he had ever gone before. Suddenly he came out on the other side of the forest, and there, in front of him, stood a vast castle with towers and turrets, and a moat around it.
The King called his chief huntsman to him and asked him whether he knew who lived in the castle.
The man replied that it belonged to the Duchess Grognon, and she was said to be so rich that she had never been able to count all her treasures.
As soon as the King heard this, he at once determined to stop at the castle and ask for refreshment. He was not only weary and thirsty from the chase, but he also had a great desire to see any one as rich as the Duchess, and perhaps he would be shown her treasures as well.
Grognon had already seen him from her window, and as soon as he turned toward the castle, she hastened down to meet him. She herself opened the door for him and smiling she bade him welcome.
When the King first looked at her he was amazed. Never had he seen any one so ugly. She was as dark and rough and broad as a toad. Her eyes were little and red, and her mouth was like a slit that stretched from ear to ear. But she was magnificently dressed and so covered with jewels that the King was dazzled by them and quite forgot how hideous was the one who wore them.
The Duchess invited the King to enter and at once commanded that a repast should be brought him with all sorts of cakes and sweets and fruits, and also a pipe of wine.
The King, who was very thirsty, was pleased to hear this order, and when the pipe of wine was brought in he waited impatiently for it to be opened. But when the Duchess struck the head of the pipe, instead of wine a great heap of gold fell out upon the floor.
The Duchess pretended to be very much surprised. “This is a strange thing,” said she. “I cannot imagine how they came to bring this gold instead of the wine I ordered. I pray your Majesty’s pardon for the mistake, which shall be well punished, I promise you.”
She then commanded that another pipe should be brought in, but when she struck this, out poured a heap of rubies.
The King was filled with wonder and admiration at the sight of all this treasure, but the Duchess pretended to be still more angry.
“The servant who made this mistake shall be well beaten, I promise you,” she cried. “Bring in another pipe, and this time be sure it is filled with good wine instead of all these stones.”
But she had no more success with the third pipe than with the second, for when she struck it, out poured emeralds. The Duchess pretended to fly into a fury and scornfully pushed the jewels aside with her foot. Pipe after pipe was brought, but one was full of sapphires, one of pearls, and still another of diamonds. The whole floor was covered with her treasures.
The King was bewildered. He scarcely knew how to express his wonder.
“Sire,” said the Duchess, smiling, “since you feel such an admiration for these poor trifles, perhaps you would like to see the treasure chambers from which these have been brought.”
Nothing could please the King better, and after Grognon had shown him all her treasures, which indeed seemed endless, he determined, if possible, to make her his wife that all this wealth might become his.
This plan suited the Duchess perfectly. Indeed it was for this purpose that she had shown her wealth to the King, and it was agreed between them that they should be married as soon as possible.
When the news of this intended marriage was brought to Graciosa, she was filled with grief and dismay. She had already heard of the Duchess Grognon and knew her to be not only a monster of ugliness, but of such an evil nature that nothing delighted her more than to tease and torment those around her and make their lives a misery to them. Nor could she understand how her father could make up his mind to take such a creature as his wife.
However, she hid her feelings as well as she could and determined to be obedient and patient with Grognon, hoping that in this way she might live with her at peace, and even perhaps win from her a little affection.
The day for the wedding drew near, and one morning word was brought to the King that Grognon would that day set forth on her way to his palace.
Wishing to do all honor to his bride, the King determined to ride forth and meet her, and he gave orders that Graciosa should make herself ready and ride with him to meet the Duchess.
Poor Graciosa had withdrawn to the palace gardens to weep in secret, for she did not wish others to know of the grief she felt over her father’s marriage. As she sat beside a fountain, her tears falling as clear and bright as the leaping waters, she saw a page coming toward her across the garden. He was a stranger to the Princess, and he was so tall and handsome, and his air so noble that Graciosa gazed at him with wonder.
When he reached the place where Graciosa was sitting he bent his knee before her. “Princess,” said he, “the King is waiting for you. He rides forth to-day to meet the Duchess Grognon, who has already set out from her castle, and he wishes you to ride with him.”
“Tell him I will come upon the moment,” said Graciosa. “But stay! First tell me who you are, for your face is strange to me. Are you one of the Duchess’s pages who has been sent on before her?”
“No, Princess,” replied the page. “I am indeed a stranger here, but no one has sent me hither. I have come hither because my greatest desire in life is to serve you, and, if it may be, to ease your sorrows in small measure by my love and devotion.”
“How!” cried the Princess. “Do you, a page, dare to speak to me of love and devotion? You should be well punished for your insolence, and no doubt you will be when I report the matter to the King, as rest assured I shall do as soon as I find an opportunity.”
“In truth, you have no cause for anger, Princess,” replied the stranger. “I am not a page, but Prince Percinet, the son of a King as rich and powerful as your own father. Long ago my father died, and I live in the palace of my mother, the Fairy Finetta. Through her I am possessed of many magic powers and can render myself invisible at will. It is only because of my desire to help you that I have come here dressed as a page.”
Graciosa was filled with wonder at this story. She had often heard of the fairy Prince Percinet, of his beauty and wit and power, but little had she thought to meet him. She could scarcely believe it possible that he loved her, and that it was for her sake he had come to the palace to serve as a page.
Still full of wonder, she arose and hastened away to where her father was waiting impatiently for her coming. He and his attendants were ready to set out at once, and a page was holding Graciosa’s palfrey.
She was about to mount when Percinet appeared, leading a snow-white horse so graceful and so beautiful that every one who saw it marveled. This horse, he said, had just come as a gift to the Princess Graciosa from one who refused to let his name be known.
It was not difficult for Graciosa to guess that the one who had given her the horse was Prince Percinet himself, but her father could not wonder enough over both the gift and the giver.
When the Princess had mounted the horse and gathered up the reins, it at once moved forward with such grace and lightness that all were filled with admiration. The King, at whose side she rode, kept admiring the steed and wondering as to whence it had come.
They had not traveled far when they saw Grognon and her train approaching them. The Duchess rode in a golden coach, drawn by six spotted horses, their harness glittering with gold and jewels. Grognon herself was magnificently dressed and covered with gems that fairly dazzled the eyes with their glitter, but this magnificence only made her look more hideous, like a toad peering out from a jeweled glove.
No sooner did the King come to the side of the chariot than he began to pay his compliments to Grognon, but the Duchess scarcely listened to him. Her eyes were fixed upon the horse upon which the Princess Graciosa was riding.
“That is a very beautiful horse,” said she. “Indeed it is finer than any in my stables, or, I am sure, in yours, either. I should have thought it would have been kept for me instead of your allowing your daughter to ride upon such a wonder.”
The King, seeing she was in a rage, tried to make excuses, but Grognon would not listen to him. Nothing would satisfy her but that Graciosa should light down from the horse and allow her to mount upon it instead, and ride beside the King as they returned to the palace.
To this Graciosa eagerly agreed. The fury shown by the Duchess terrified her, and her only wish was to turn aside Grognon’s anger and perhaps win from her a kindly word.
But no sooner had Grognon mounted the horse than it began to prance and curvette and leap from side to side so roughly that the Duchess thought her teeth would be loosened in her head; then suddenly it started off at full gallop, with Grognon screaming and clutching it by the mane. So swiftly sped the horse that no one could overtake it, and when it reached the palace it stopped with such suddenness that the Duchess was thrown violently off upon the stones of the courtyard.
When the King and Graciosa, followed by the courtiers and attendants, arrived at the palace, they were horrified to find Grognon lying on the stones of the courtyard, screaming and groaning.
She was lifted up and carried into the castle, and physicians were called to attend to her bruises and scratches.
“It is all the fault of that miserable girl,” Grognon screamed again and again. “It is some trick she arranged for me, and she had no other hope than that I should be killed outright. But she shall be punished for her wickedness. She shall find that she cannot treat me in such a manner without suffering for it.”
She then demanded that the King should send Graciosa to her and allow her to punish the Princess as she saw fit.
The King was loth to agree to this, and yet he dared not refuse, for he feared that Grognon might fall into such a fury that she would refuse to marry him and would return to her own castle, and so he would lose her treasures. He felt himself obliged to allow Grognon to carry out her wishes.
Graciosa was sent to the Duchess’s chamber and went with fear and trembling.
No sooner had she entered than the door was locked behind her. She saw, with terror, that back of Grognon’s couch stood four tall and terrible-looking attendants, each armed with a heavy staff.
“Now, my beauty,” cried Grognon furiously, “it is my turn. No doubt you were vastly amused by my misadventure, but now you yourself shall know how it feels to be covered with wounds and bruises.”
She then bade her attendants seize Graciosa and beat her as long as their strength held out, or until their staves were broken.
Graciosa would have begged for mercy, but suddenly a whisper sounded in her ear. “Fear not, Graciosa. I, Percinet, am beside thee. The blows shall not harm thee, but when they fall, cry out as though they were beyond all bearing.”
Graciosa at once recognized the voice of Percinet, and knowing he was there, all fear left her, and she could have laughed aloud for joy. However, she pretended to be almost fainting from terror.
Grognon now ordered the attendants to begin; they at once seized Graciosa and raised their staves, but she now saw that by Percinet’s magic the staves had been changed into rose-colored plumes, so soft and feathery that the blows she received from them were like the tenderest of caresses. But, remembering Percinet’s bidding, she cried aloud under the strokes as though she could scarcely bear the suffering.
The eyes of Grognon and her attendants were blinded so that they did not see the rods had been changed to plumes. The Duchess wondered at the strength of the Princess. She had expected to see her sink down, bruised and senseless under the rain of blows, but the harder the attendants beat her, the less did Graciosa feel the strokes.
At last the men, outwearied, dropped their rods, and Graciosa, pretending to weep, gathered her garments about her as though to hide her bruises.
“Go,” said Grognon harshly, pointing to the door. “You have received no more than you deserve, but this beating is nothing to what you shall receive, if you again try your tricks upon me.”
Graciosa crept away to her room and to her bed, pretending to be ill, which delighted Grognon and was as a soothing salve to her bruises.
Soon after the King and Grognon were married with great magnificence. The new Queen was dressed in cloth of gold and wore her most magnificent jewels; she received with satisfaction the compliments of the courtiers who pretended to admire her and praised her beauty and grace, while they laughed at her behind her back and wondered how the King had ever brought himself to marry such a hideous creature.
Graciosa was obliged to wear a hideous dress, and her ornaments were only common pebbles gathered from beside the road, with holes bored through them and strung together, but in spite of this her beauty shone out as the moon shines through the clouds at night time.
Soon after, a grand tournament was given in honor of the Queen. The knight who was chosen to ride for Grognon declared her to be the most beautiful creature in the world, and challenged all others to prove the contrary against him.
Many knights rode against him, but he overcame them all, for, knowing him to be the favorite of the Queen, none of them dared to try to overthrow him.
The heralds were about to proclaim him victor when a new and unknown knight rode into the field.
This knight rode a snow-white horse and was clad in silver armor. The only color he wore was a green silken scarf, that being Graciosa’s color.
This silver knight declared Graciosa to be the most beautiful and perfect creature in the world, even as he held Queen Grognon to be the most hideous and detestable, and this he would prove against any who dared to ride against him.
When the Queen heard what the knight said, her face grew as red as blood, and she gave such a cry of fury that the King trembled, and Graciosa almost fainted with terror. However, the Queen had no doubt but that her chosen knight would overthrow the newcomer, as he had all others.
The two knights reined back their horses and set their lances at rest, and then at the given signal they charged at each other. But it seemed the silver knight scarce needed to touch the other before he sent him rolling in the dust, and so sore wounded that it was difficult to revive him.
At once the silver knight disappeared, and no one was able to guess who he was or whence he had come, nor could they tell whither he had gone. Graciosa alone guessed, even when he first appeared, that the silver knight was no other than her fairy lover Percinet.
Grognon was in such a rage that she was like to lose her senses. She declared that Graciosa had arranged the whole plan so as to disgrace her before the court and demanded that the Princess should be left to her to punish as she pleased.
The King was afraid to refuse, for Grognon threatened that if he did she would take all her treasure and depart at once, and not one single jewel of it should he ever see again. With an anxious heart he at last agreed to her wishes, and Grognon, filled with triumph, determined to rid herself once and for all of the Princess.
That night, soon after the Princess had gone to her chamber, a number of armed men entered it and forced her to come away with them. They brought her to a closed carriage which was in waiting, and into this she was obliged to enter. After that she was driven on and on for a long distance.
At last the coach stopped, the door was opened, and Graciosa was forced to descend. She found the men had brought her into the midst of a deep and gloomy forest, and that here they meant to leave her.
Graciosa was filled with terror. She knew the forest to be full of lions, bears, and other savage creatures, and she could not forbear from weeping and complaining of the cruelty that could leave her there to be torn to pieces by the fangs of wild beasts. She even pleaded with the men to kill her at once, that her sufferings might the sooner be ended.
The attendants, however, paid little heed to her prayers and tears except to tell her they were acting under the Queen’s command, and soon the poor child found herself alone and helpless. Kneeling down, she said her prayers, and then meekly laid herself down to await whatever fate might befall her.
Suddenly the forest all around her was lighted up as though by the glow of thousands upon thousands of candles, and she saw before her a broad avenue, paved with stones of changing colors and leading up to a shining palace.
Graciosa gazed with wonder upon the sight, scarcely able to believe her eyes. “It must be the work of Prince Percinet,” she murmured. “He is guarding me from the savage beasts, even as he guarded me before from the fury of the cruel Grognon.”
A sound from behind startled her, and she turned with a cry, fearing one of the beasts might have stolen up to her unheard.
Instead there stood Prince Percinet himself, looking upon her with tenderness and admiration. Graciosa had never seen him appear so handsome. He was dressed in white satin, richly embroidered with silver, and around his neck hung a broad collar of emeralds.
“Do not be afraid, beautiful Graciosa,” said he. “I have come to lead you to the palace of my mother, the Fairy Finetta. She is waiting impatiently to welcome you, and be sure that in her palace you will be treated with only the greatest care and tenderness.”
At these words all fear left Graciosa. Blushing, she allowed Percinet to take her hand and to lead her up the avenue to the palace.
No sooner did they arrive at the foot of the steps than the golden doors swung open, and a tall and beautiful lady dressed in a shimmering green robe bordered with emeralds appeared, and after making herself known as the Fairy Finetta, she welcomed Graciosa with the greatest grace and dignity.
Graciosa was led into the palace, and everything she saw about her was so beautiful and wonderful that she hardly knew how to express her admiration. Wherever they went they were accompanied by soft music; doors opened before them as they approached, and in one apartment a feast was set forth for them with every sort of delicious food that can be imagined. It was served to them without hands, and nowhere did Graciosa see any one but themselves. This gave the Princess some anxiety.
“After all,” thought she to herself, “all this is magic and may at any moment vanish suddenly, even as it appeared, and I may find myself again in the forest, helpless and alone.” She therefore, as soon as she found an opportunity, asked the Fairy Finetta whether it would not be possible to send her back to her father’s palace again.
The fairy seemed both surprised and displeased at this question. “Nothing would be easier,” she replied, “but have you so soon wearied of our company that you should wish to leave us? You know how Percinet adores you. He will be miserable if he finds he is unable to make you happy even for a few short hours.”
Graciosa murmured something about her father.
“Your father is well and in good spirits,” replied the fairy; “he has not even missed you.”
The Princess could now no longer urge to be sent home. She agreed to remain in the castle for a while, at least. Percinet showed the greatest joy when he heard this. “Ah, Graciosa,” said he, “you cannot but know that I am miserable without you, and if you would accept my love and devotion, I would be the happiest creature in the world.”
The Princess blushed, but made no answer and Percinet dared not press her further.
The next few days passed like a dream for Graciosa. Every day she found herself provided with clothes and jewels more beautiful than any she had ever imagined. Every day invisible hands served her with food that was strange to her, yet very delicious. Often she walked in the gardens or amused herself by feeding the fish in the fountains. Percinet was almost constantly with her and found a thousand ways in which to please her and show his devotion, and the Fairy Finetta was always gracious and charming. But one day, when Percinet had left her for a short time, Graciosa began to think of her father, and she was seized with such a great desire to see him that she grew very sad, and could not forbear from weeping.
When Percinet returned and saw her tears, he at once asked her, with the greatest concern, what was troubling her.
“I am sad because I am thinking of my father,” replied Graciosa. “Oh, Percinet! Is it not possible for me to see him? I have been parted from him for so long.”
Percinet became very thoughtful, but presently he said, “It is indeed quite possible for you to see him and that without even leaving the palace, but I fear harm may come of it. However, as you know, I can refuse you nothing, so come with me.”
Percinet then led Graciosa to a high tower from which they could see a great stretch of country in every direction. He bade her place her right foot on his left foot, and her little finger on his thumb, and look in the direction he pointed out to her.
As soon as Graciosa had done this, she no longer saw Percinet or the tower, or anything around her. It seemed to her that she was back again in her father’s palace, in the chamber where the King sometimes went to be alone. She saw him there and in his hand he held a little picture of herself painted when she was a child and he was weeping and grieving over it so bitterly that Graciosa’s heart was wrung with pity for him. She wished to speak to him and throw her arms about his neck, but no sooner did she step forward toward him than she found herself back again on the tower with Percinet, and the vision of her father was gone.
Graciosa turned to the Prince, her face bathed with tears. “Dearest Percinet, if you love me, let me return to my father,” she cried. “He is grieving for me, and I cannot bear the thought of his sorrow.”
Percinet looked at her reproachfully. “And is my sorrow nothing to you?” he asked her. “You know how it would grieve me to the heart to lose you. The King was willing to leave you to the cruelty of Grognon, and I have treated you always with the tenderest respect, and yet you would gladly leave me to return to him.”
Graciosa could make no answer to this, and after a moment Percinet added with a sigh, “So be it.”
He then led her to the fairy and told her of Graciosa’s wish to leave them.
Finetta looked at her with a severe expression. “I fear Graciosa, that you are very ungrateful,” said she. “But if you wish to leave us, we will not keep you. Only, when you find yourself again in the power of the Queen, remember that it is of your own choice you are there.”
So saying, the fairy waved her hand, and at once the castle and all in it vanished away like mist. Graciosa found herself again in her father’s palace. With eager steps she hastened to the chamber where she had seen him sitting. He was still there, and weeping. She ran to him and threw her arms about him.
“Dearest father, do not grieve any longer,” she cried. “Your Graciosa has returned to you, loving you better than ever.”
The King was filled with joy at the sight of his daughter and embraced her and caressed her with so much tenderness that Graciosa hoped her sorrows were now ended, and that nothing but happiness lay before her.
But she had forgotten Grognon. The stepmother was furious when she heard that the Princess had returned to the castle. “Will I never be able to rid myself of this wretched girl!” she cried. “But wait a bit! I will make her so miserable that she will be glad enough to leave the palace herself, of her own will and desire.”
She then hastened away to the King, who was again alone, as Graciosa had gone to her chamber.
“I hear that Graciosa has returned!” cried Grognon. “The girl thinks she can come and go at pleasure and cares nothing for any anxiety or sorrow she may cause us. But leave her to me, and I will teach her a lesson in obedience that may save us much trouble in the future.”
The King was troubled at hearing this. He could not bear the thought of again putting the Princess in the power of her stepmother, and yet he knew Grognon’s furious temper and was afraid of awakening it. In the end, however, he agreed to what the Queen asked and promised that she should do as she wished with Graciosa.
Grognon had learned a lesson from the return of the Princess, and she now determined to call to her aid a fairy who was a friend of hers and was as wicked as herself. “This girl,” thought she, “is surely protected by some magic, and if I would succeed against her, I must call upon some power that is greater than my own.”
The fairy came in haste at the Queen’s summons, and when she found what was required of her, her little eyes sparkled with malice.
“This is indeed a matter to my own taste,” said she. “I will tell you how to set a task for the Princess that she cannot possibly accomplish. Then, when she fails, you can say she is disobedient and obstinate, and this will give you an excuse for breaking every bone in her body.”
The advice delighted Grognon. “Quick!” said she. “Tell me what I am to do, for I can hardly wait to rid myself of this creature.”
The fairy then drew from an enormous pocket in her gown a great mass of tangled threads of silk. They were of all colors of the rainbow, and each thread was so twisted in with the others that there seemed neither beginning nor end to it and yet was so fine that one could scarcely breathe upon it without breaking it.
“Take this silk to Graciosa,” said the fairy, “and tell her that before to-morrow she must separate the different colors from each other and wind them into skeins, each color to itself, and that not a single thread of them must be broken. This she will find it impossible to do, and when you visit her to-morrow and find that she has failed, it will give you an excuse to punish her as you see fit.”
This advice delighted the Queen. She took the skeins and hastened away to the place where she had had Graciosa imprisoned. The Princess was weeping and looked so beautiful in her tears that any heart less hard than Grognon’s would have pitied her. But her beauty only increased the Queen’s fury against her.
“Come, lazybones!” cried the Queen. “Here is something to give work to your idle fingers. Take these silks and separate them from each other, winding each color into a skein by itself. See that not a thread of it is broken, and do you have the task done before to-morrow, or else you shall suffer for it.”
“Alas, Madam!” cried the poor Princess. “You know that this is an impossible thing to do.”
“That is your concern,” cried Grognon harshly. “But this I will tell you; if you are too lazy and obstinate to do as I bid you, it is only right and proper that you should be punished.”
So saying, she gave Graciosa a push so violent that it almost threw her upon the floor and went on out, locking the door behind her.
Left alone, Graciosa took up the mass of silk and with careful fingers began to try to separate the strands, but hardly could she touch them before they broke, and she soon found the task was indeed impossible.
In despair she threw aside the silks and burst into tears.
“Alas! Alas! My sorrows are well deserved,” wept the poor Princess. “Had I but listened to Percinet and to the fairy’s warnings, I might even now be safe and happy in her palace with Percinet for my companion.”
Hardly had she spoken thus when the Prince himself stood before her.
“Ah, Graciosa,” said he, “are you perhaps beginning to learn at last the worth of my affection? You have indeed brought this sorrow on yourself, but I love you too dearly to be willing to see you suffer.”
He then struck the silk three times with a silver wand he carried. Immediately the tangles and knots were smoothed away, the different colors separated themselves one from another, and broken ends rejoined. In less time than it takes to tell, the task was done, and the different silks lay smoothly wound and side by side upon the table.
Graciosa hardly knew how to thank Percinet.
“Do not thank me,” said the Prince gravely. “I wish no thanks from you. You know how dearly I love you, and I, on my part, am sure that now you also love me. Come away with me from all these fears and sufferings and live with me in the palace my mother is eager to provide for us.”
But Graciosa could not yet make up her mind to marry one who was half a fairy.
“Ah, Percinet, forgive me!” she cried. “I know that you love me, but you are a fairy and I am a mortal, and I fear your love for me may not be lasting. Let us wait and see whether the Queen’s heart may not soften toward me. Perhaps she has only set me this task as a trial of my patience and does not really intend evil to me.”
“In other words, you trust to her cruelty rather than to