On a Pincushion · Through the Fire (2/4)

“I came with him,” said Jack, pointing to the red fireman. “And you must not be angry with him, for I made him bring me.”

“I am not the least angry, either with him or you,” said the Princess, very graciously. “But I want to know why you said you pitied me.”

“Because you look so unhappy, and I think it’s very sad for you to be parted from your Prince,” said Jack.

Here all the ladies crowded round him, and tried to stop his speaking, but the Princess said⁠—

“Silence! I insist upon it. It does no harm for me to hear him, and I will not allow you to stop him in this way. Thank you, little boy, for what you have said. And for you,” she added, turning to Jack’s first friend, “I am not the least angry with you, and I particularly desire that no one shall mention this to my father;” but just as she stopped speaking, a cloud of smoke was seen rolling over the hills, and the ladies cried⁠—

“The King! the King!”

“Go! go!” cried the Princess to Jack, and the fireman without more ado seized him, and placing him on his shoulders flew through the air with him at a great rate, and was far from the palace before Jack could get breath to speak.

“A fine mess you have nearly got me into!” grumbled the little man. “It will be the last time I ever take you anywhere with me, you may be sure. What would have happened to me if the King had come up and heard you talking to the Princess of the very subject he had forbidden us all to mention?”

Jack dared not say a word, as his companion was so angry, and on they went flying through the air at a dreadful pace. At last they reached the long dark tunnel and flew up it, and when they again came towards the light, the little man took Jack from his shoulders and flung him away with all his force, and he remembered nothing more till he found himself lying on the hearthrug in his own room. It might all have been a dream, only he was so sure it wasn’t.

The fire had gone out, and the only light in the room came from the street lamps. Jack jumped up and searched everywhere for any trace of the little man, but could find none. He ran to the fireplace and called, but there was no answer, and at last he went shivering and cold to bed to dream of the Princess and the strange bright country underground, of which no one knows.

In the morning he was awoke by his mother placing a little parcel in his hand as she kissed him. Jack was delighted when he opened it and found some crackers and sugar cakes and a wooden soldier off a Christmas-tree. He amused himself all the morning playing with them, but he could not forget the fire-people and the pale pretty Princess. He dared not tell his mother, lest he might make the fireman angry, and prevent his showing himself again. Next evening he was alone again, and sat looking anxiously between the bars, but nothing could he see of the fire-people. Then he ran to the window and looked out, in search of the water Prince or the little wind-fairy, but neither could he see, though it rained hard, and the wind blew loudly. So night after night passed, his mother went out and he was left alone, and yet he saw no trace of him, and he began to fear he should never know more of the fire-people.

New Year’s-eve came, and Jack’s mother had to go out and leave him to watch the new year in alone. It was a miserable night. It rained in torrents, and the wind blew, in great melancholy gusts. Jack sat by the window, and looked out on the wet street and the driving clouds. He had given up looking in the fire for his little red friend, and tonight he was busy thinking of the new year which would begin tomorrow.

“When this next year is done,” he said to himself, “I shall be eight years old. Mother says I am very small of my years. I wonder if I shall be bigger then.”

“Little Jack,” called a low sighing voice from the grate.

Jack started, and ran to the fireplace. The fire was almost out. There was only a dull red glare in the coals, but kneeling in it, holding on to the bars, was the fire Princess. She was paler than before, and looked quite transparent. Jack could see the coals plainly through her.

“Put on some more coal,” she said, shivering. “There is not enough for me to burn here, and if I don’t keep up a good blaze I shall go out altogether.”

Jack did as he was bid, and then sat down on the hearthrug, staring at the Princess with all his might. Her long bright hair fell over the bars, and though her face looked very small and pale, her eyes were immense, and glittered like diamonds.

“How beautiful you are!” he said at last.

“Am I?” said the Princess with a sigh. “So my Prince said. It was with the greatest difficulty I managed to get here tonight, but I was determined to come. Ever since I saw you, I have thought of you so much.”

“Have you?” said Jack, still staring.

“Yes, you were so sorry for me, and all my people are so unkind. Now I want you to do me a favour.”

“What is it?” asked Jack.

“Let the Prince come here and speak to me.”

“How am I to bring him?” said Jack.

“I will show you. Is it raining tonight?”

“Yes, fast.”

“That is very lucky; some of his people are sure to be about. Then all you must do is, to open the window and wait.”

“But the rain will come into the room,” said Jack.

“No, it will not, and if it does it will not do you any harm. You can’t be quenched with water. Bea good boy, and do as I tell you.”

So Jack threw open one of the windows. A great gust of wind blew into the room, and blew the cold wet rain into his face. The fire around the Princess broke out into a blaze, and then sank away, but she did not move, but called to Jack to stand between her and the window to keep off the draught and wet. He did as she bade him, and then she began to sing.

First she sang in a low voice, then her song grew louder and louder, and clearer and clearer. At last she stopped and said⁠—

“Now, little Jack, look on the windowsill and tell me what you see.”

Jack ran to the window, and just outside, seated on the sill, in a little pool of water, was a tiny man dressed in a dull green dress. He had long wavy hair, that looked heavy and wet, and his clothes were shiny with water. He eyed Jack very crossly for a minute or two, then he said⁠—

“Who are you, and what do you want?”

“Tell him,” whispered the Princess, “that he must bring Prince Fluvius here;” and Jack repeated to the water-fairy what she said.

“And who are you who dares to ask me to bring the Prince?” said he. “Do you think our Prince is to be taken about anywhere⁠—and everywhere, just because mortals want him.” But, on hearing this, the Princess began to sing again in the same soft voice, growing louder and louder, till the water-fairy sprang up, promising to bring Prince Fluvius, or do anything else Jack wished, if only the song would cease, as he could not endure the heat, for it was a spell the Princess sang, and if she had gone on he would have been dried up altogether.

Then the Princess leaned back amongst the coals in silence. The water-fairy at once disappeared, and Jack stood at the window watching for what would come with great interest.

The rain fell in torrents, and suddenly the room began to grow very dark. When the Princess saw this she raised her head.

“He is coming,” she said; and immediately there shot out from her, on all sides, a brilliant golden light, in the midst of which she looked even more beautiful than before. Then there floated up outside the window a white cloud, which rested on the sill. The cloud opened, and from it stepped the figure of a young man, gorgeously dressed in silver and green. He was about the size of the Princess, and next to her Jack thought he was the most beautiful little creature he had ever seen. He had long dark curls hanging down, and a sweet pale face, with eyes of a deep blue, just the colour of the sea.

At sight of Princess Pyra he started, and would have dashed right up to the bars, had she not begged him for both their sakes not to come inside the window.

“It is you, my darling,” he said, leaning into the room. “And I believed I should never see you again. Oh, let me only once take you in my arms!”

“Do not think of such a thing,” called the Princess. “It would be fatal to us both.”

“At any rate, we should perish together,” said Prince Fluvius.

“And how much better to live together!” said the Princess.

“If that were possible,” said the Prince, sighing.

“And it is possible,” said the Princess. “Since I last saw you I have learnt that there is only one person in the world who can help us, and that is the old man who sits on the North Pole. He knows everything, and could we but send to him and ask his advice, he would tell us what to do.”

“But how are we to send to him?” said the Prince. “If you were to go, the sea would surely quench you on the way, and I should be frozen directly I got to the ice-people, and never return to you. As for the wind-fairies, who are constantly there, they are such silly little things, they could never remember a message.”

“Little Jack,” cried the Princess, turning towards him, “you will go for us, will you not?”

“I?” cried Jack, frightened. “How am I to go?”

“Nothing can be easier. One of the wind-fairies will take you and bring you back⁠—as the Prince will direct. You shall go, tonight. Now, dear Jack, you will do it for us, will you not? And we shall be so grateful.”

Jack did not know what to say, but he looked first at the Prince sitting on the windowsill with the rain pouring around him, looking wistfully towards him, with his handsome mournful eyes; then he looked at the Princess kneeling on the glowing coals, entreating him with clasped hands to help them, while sparks fell from her bright eyes. And they were both so beautiful that he could not bear to refuse them, and was silent.

The Princess saw at once that he wavered, and said, smiling, “Then it is settled; you will go for us. And now, dear little Jack, listen very carefully to all the directions we give you, and be sure you do all we tell you. The old man at the North Pole is very mischievous and cunning, and always does his best to deceive anyone who comes to him for help. And there is one thing of which you must be very careful. You must not, whatever happens, ask him more than one question. The first question that he is asked he is bound to answer truthfully, but if you ask him more than one, he will at once seize you and keep you under the ice. He will do all he can to tempt you to ask more than one, but you must not mind him. And be sure to remember exactly what he says about me.”

“What am I to say, then?” asked Jack.

“Say, ‘I come from the fire Princess Pyra, and she is in love with Prince Fluvius, the water Prince, and wants to know how they are to be married;’ and then shut your lips and do not speak again, whatever he says. When you come to the ice-country, you will find it very cold, so I shall give you a fireball to keep you warm. And be sure you do not stop and talk to the ice-people, for if you do you will be frozen to death.”

“How am I to go?” asked Jack again.

“Go to the window, and you will see the wind-fairy who is to take you.”

Jack did as he was told, and saw standing beside Prince Fluvius a little man dressed in light dust-coloured clothes, which hung on him loosely, seeming barely to touch him.

His face was very cheerful, but there was scarcely any expression in it, and whenever he moved there came a violent gust of wind.

“Are you ready?” asked the Prince, kindly.

“Yes,” said Jack, feeling very much frightened.

“You need not be afraid, little Jack,” said Prince Fluvius; “you have nothing to do but to sit on his shoulders, and he will take you quite safely.”

So saying he touched him on the head, and Jack began to feel himself growing smaller and smaller, till he was the same size as the Prince and Princess.

“Come on, then,” said the wind-fairy, in an odd gusty voice. Jack sat down on his shoulders in the same way as he had before sat upon the fire-fairy, and they prepared to start.

“Goodbye, little Jack,” called the Princess from the fire. “When your turn comes, you will find that we shall not forget to help you.”

“Goodbye, little Jack,” echoed the Prince. “Do not forget all we have told you, and be sure you ask no second question of the old man.”

“Goodbye,” called Jack, and off they went. The rain beat into Jack’s face, and he felt giddy with the rate at which they flew, but he was silent, and held on tightly to the wind-fairy’s neck.

On they went in silence, going over the tops of the houses, among the chimney-tops, in a way Jack thought frightful. Then they came to the country, and flew over fields and lanes. At last the clouds cleared away, and the moon came out, and Jack could see where they were going. He was getting more used to his position now, and felt less afraid to look about him. They flew over woods and rivers, and passed villages, which looked in the distance as small as if they were made of toy houses and churches. At last they came in sight of the sea, and Jack could keep silence no longer, but burst out⁠—

“I hope we are not going over there?”

“Indeed we are,” said, or rather puffed out, his companion, for his words came out like a gust of wind. “I thought you were never going to speak, and I did not like to speak first. How are you? I hope you feel pretty comfortable.”

“Pretty well,” answered Jack. “But I am afraid if we cross the sea I shall tumble in.”

“No, you shan’t,” said the other. “I shall keep tight hold of you. Oh! it’s splendid when one gets into the middle of the sea. It’s worth blowing there.”

“Won’t it be very cold?” asked Jack.

“Nothing to speak of,” said his companion, carelessly. “When we get among the ice and snow you may be chilly, but I’ve got the fireball the Princess gave me to blow in front of us, and that will keep you warm. I wonder what it is you want to ask the old man. Won’t you tell me?”

“I think I’d better not,” said Jack. “I suppose he is a very wise old man.”

“Wise! He knows everything, and whatever you ask he’s sure to give you, as long as it’s the first question. Now we are going over the water.”

Then they began to cross the sea. Jack, who had quite got over his fear, enjoyed the journey. The sea danced and sparkled beneath them. The moon threw a silver crest on the top of each tiny wave. Here and there were little ships sailing briskly along in the breeze. Soon they lost sight of land altogether, and then Jack thought it was glorious.

Nothing but the bright sparkling sea all round for miles. He laughed aloud for pleasure, and would have been quite happy, only for a thought⁠—a naughty little thought⁠—which would keep coming into his mind, and which grew and grew in spite of himself. He put up his hands to his head to keep it out, but there it was all the same, and there it remained. It was this⁠—Why should he not ask the old man something for himself, instead of asking him about the Princess at all? Who would ever know? Why should he not ask him to make him straight and well? How pleased his mother would be if she came home that night to find her little boy a cripple no longer. How easy it would be to invent something to tell the Princess, and no one else would tell the truth. He knew it was naughty. He had promised, and he ought to keep his promise, and he thought of the Princess’s pale face and the Prince’s sad voice. And then he thought of his mother, and his own dull home, and could scarcely keep from crying.

“Listen!” said the wind-fairy. “Don’t you hear someone singing?”

Jack listened, and heard a sad sweet voice singing a song, which was more beautiful than anything he had ever heard before.