The Princess and the Goblin Page 6

  CHAPTER 6

  The Little Miner

  The next day the great cloud still hung over the mountain, and the rainpoured like water from a full sponge. The princess was very fond ofbeing out of doors, and she nearly cried when she saw that the weatherwas no better. But the mist was not of such a dark dingy grey; therewas light in it; and as the hours went on it grew brighter andbrighter, until it was almost too brilliant to look at; and late in theafternoon the sun broke out so gloriously that Irene clapped her hands,crying:

  'See, see, Lootie! The sun has had his face washed. Look how brighthe is! Do get my hat, and let us go out for a walk. Oh, dear! oh,dear! how happy I am!'

  Lootie was very glad to please the princess. She got her hat andcloak, and they set out together for a walk up the mountain; for theroad was so hard and steep that the water could not rest upon it, andit was always dry enough for walking a few minutes after the rainceased. The clouds were rolling away in broken pieces, like great,overwoolly sheep, whose wool the sun had bleached till it was almosttoo white for the eyes to bear. Between them the sky shone with adeeper and purer blue, because of the rain. The trees on the roadsidewere hung all over with drops, which sparkled in the sun like jewels.The only things that were no brighter for the rain were the brooks thatran down the mountain; they had changed from the clearness of crystalto a muddy brown; but what they lost in colour they gained in sound--orat least in noise, for a brook when it is swollen is not so musical asbefore. But Irene was in raptures with the great brown streamstumbling down everywhere; and Lootie shared in her delight, for she toohad been confined to the house for three days.

  At length she observed that the sun was getting low, and said it wastime to be going back. She made the remark again and again, but, everytime, the princess begged her to go on just a little farther and alittle farther; reminding her that it was much easier to go downhill,and saying that when they did turn they would be at home in a moment.So on and on they did go, now to look at a group of ferns over whosetops a stream was pouring in a watery arch, now to pick a shining stonefrom a rock by the wayside, now to watch the flight of some bird.Suddenly the shadow of a great mountain peak came up from behind, andshot in front of them. When the nurse saw it, she started and shook,and catching hold of the princess's hand turned and began to run downthe hill.

  'What's all the haste, nursie?' asked Irene, running alongside of her.

  'We must not be out a moment longer.'

  'But we can't help being out a good many moments longer.'

  It was too true. The nurse almost cried. They were much too far fromhome. It was against express orders to be out with the princess onemoment after the sun was down; and they were nearly a mile up themountain! If His Majesty, Irene's papa, were to hear of it, Lootiewould certainly be dismissed; and to leave the princess would break herheart. It was no wonder she ran. But Irene was not in the leastfrightened, not knowing anything to be frightened at. She kept onchattering as well as she could, but it was not easy.

  'Lootie! Lootie! why do you run so fast? It shakes my teeth when Italk.'

  'Then don't talk,' said Lootie.

  'But the princess went on talking. She was always saying: 'Look, look,Lootie!' but Lootie paid no more heed to anything she said, only ran on.

  'Look, look, Lootie! Don't you see that funny man peeping over therock?'

  Lootie only ran the faster. They had to pass the rock, and when theycame nearer, the princess saw it was only a lump of the rock itselfthat she had taken for a man.

  'Look, look, Lootie! There's such a curious creature at the foot ofthat old tree. Look at it, Lootie! It's making faces at us, I dothink.'

  Lootie gave a stifled cry, and ran faster still--so fast that Irene'slittle legs could not keep up with her, and she fell with a crash. Itwas a hard downhill road, and she had been running very fast--so it wasno wonder she began to cry. This put the nurse nearly beside herself;but all she could do was to run on, the moment she got the princess onher feet again.

  'Who's that laughing at me?' said the princess, trying to keep in hersobs, and running too fast for her grazed knees.

  'Nobody, child,' said the nurse, almost angrily.

  But that instant there came a burst of coarse tittering from somewherenear, and a hoarse indistinct voice that seemed to say: 'Lies! lies!lies!'

  'Oh!' cried the nurse with a sigh that was almost a scream, and ran onfaster than ever.

  'Nursie! Lootie! I can't run any more. Do let us walk a bit.'

  'What am I to do?' said the nurse. 'Here, I will carry you.'

  She caught her up; but found her much too heavy to run with, and had toset her down again. Then she looked wildly about her, gave a greatcry, and said:

  'We've taken the wrong turning somewhere, and I don't know where weare. We are lost, lost!'

  The terror she was in had quite bewildered her. It was true enoughthey had lost the way. They had been running down into a little valleyin which there was no house to be seen.

  Now Irene did not know what good reason there was for her nurse'sterror, for the servants had all strict orders never to mention thegoblins to her, but it was very discomposing to see her nurse in such afright. Before, however, she had time to grow thoroughly alarmed likeher, she heard the sound of whistling, and that revived her. Presentlyshe saw a boy coming up the road from the valley to meet them. He wasthe whistler; but before they met his whistling changed to singing.And this is something like what he sang:

  'Ring! dod! bang! Go the hammers' clang! Hit and turn and bore! Whizz and puff and roar! Thus we rive the rocks, Force the goblin locks.-- See the shining ore! One, two, three-- Bright as gold can be! Four, five, six-- Shovels, mattocks, picks! Seven, eight, nine-- Light your lamp at mine. Ten, eleven, twelve-- Loosely hold the helve. We're the merry miner-boys, Make the goblins hold their noise.'

  'I wish YOU would hold your noise,' said the nurse rudely, for the veryword GOBLIN at such a time and in such a place made her tremble. Itwould bring the goblins upon them to a certainty, she thought, to defythem in that way. But whether the boy heard her or not, he did notstop his singing.

  'Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen-- This is worth the siftin'; Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen-- There's the match, and lay't in. Nineteen, twenty-- Goblins in a plenty.'

  'Do be quiet,' cried the nurse, in a whispered shriek. But the boy,who was now close at hand, still went on.

  'Hush! scush! scurry! There you go in a hurry! Gobble! gobble! goblin! There you go a wobblin'; Hobble, hobble, hobblin'-- Cobble! cobble! cobblin'! Hob-bob-goblin!-- Huuuuuh!'

  'There!' said the boy, as he stood still opposite them. 'There!that'll do for them. They can't bear singing, and they can't standthat song. They can't sing themselves, for they have no more voicethan a crow; and they don't like other people to sing.'

  The boy was dressed in a miner's dress, with a curious cap on his head.He was a very nice-looking boy, with eyes as dark as the mines in whichhe worked and as sparkling as the crystals in their rocks. He wasabout twelve years old. His face was almost too pale for beauty, whichcame of his being so little in the open air and the sunlight--for evenvegetables grown in the dark are white; but he looked happy, merryindeed--perhaps at the thought of having routed the goblins; and hisbearing as he stood before them had nothing clownish or rude about it.

  'I saw them,' he went on, 'as I came up; and I'm very glad I did. Iknew they were after somebody, but I couldn't see who it was. Theywon't touch you so long as I'm with you.'

  'Why, who are you?' asked the nurse, offended at the freedom with whichhe spoke to them.

  'I'm Peter's son.'

  'Who's Peter?'

  'Peter the miner.'

  'I don't know him.' 'I'm his son, though.'

  'And why should the goblins mind you, pray?'

  'Because I don't mind them. I'm used to them.'

  'What difference does that make?'

  'If you're not afr
aid of them, they're afraid of you. I'm not afraidof them. That's all. But it's all that's wanted--up here, that is.It's a different thing down there. They won't always mind that songeven, down there. And if anyone sings it, they stand grinning at himawfully; and if he gets frightened, and misses a word, or says a wrongone, they--oh! don't they give it him!'

  'What do they do to him?' asked Irene, with a trembling voice.

  'Don't go frightening the princess,' said the nurse.

  'The princess!' repeated the little miner, taking off his curious cap.'I beg your pardon; but you oughtn't to be out so late. Everybody knowsthat's against the law.'

  'Yes, indeed it is!' said the nurse, beginning to cry again. 'And Ishall have to suffer for it.'

  'What does that matter?' said the boy. 'It must be your fault. It isthe princess who will suffer for it. I hope they didn't hear you callher the princess. If they did, they're sure to know her again: they'reawfully sharp.'

  'Lootie! Lootie!' cried the princess. 'Take me home.'

  'Don't go on like that,' said the nurse to the boy, almost fiercely.'How could I help it? I lost my way.'

  'You shouldn't have been out so late. You wouldn't have lost your wayif you hadn't been frightened,' said the boy. 'Come along. I'll soonset you right again. Shall I carry your little Highness?'

  'Impertinence!' murmured the nurse, but she did not say it aloud, forshe thought if she made him angry he might take his revenge by tellingsomeone belonging to the house, and then it would be sure to come tothe king's ears. 'No, thank you,' said Irene. 'I can walk very well,though I can't run so fast as nursie. If you will give me one hand,Lootie will give me another, and then I shall get on famously.'

  They soon had her between them, holding a hand of each.

  'Now let's run,' said the nurse.

  'No, no!' said the little miner. 'That's the worst thing you can do.If you hadn't run before, you would not have lost your way. And if yourun now, they will be after you in a moment.'

  'I don't want to run,' said Irene.

  'You don't think of me,' said the nurse.

  'Yes, I do, Lootie. The boy says they won't touch us if we don't run.'

  'Yes, but if they know at the house that I've kept you out so late Ishall be turned away, and that would break my heart.'

  'Turned away, Lootie! Who would turn you away?'

  'Your papa, child.'

  'But I'll tell him it was all my fault. And you know it was, Lootie.'

  'He won't mind that. I'm sure he won't.'

  'Then I'll cry, and go down on my knees to him, and beg him not to takeaway my own dear Lootie.'

  The nurse was comforted at hearing this, and said no more. They wenton, walking pretty fast, but taking care not to run a step.

  'I want to talk to you,' said Irene to the little miner; 'but it's soawkward! I don't know your name.'

  'My name's Curdie, little princess.'

  'What a funny name! Curdie! What more?'

  'Curdie Peterson. What's your name, please?'

  'Irene.'

  'What more?'

  'I don't know what more. What more is my name, Lootie?'

  'Princesses haven't got more than one name. They don't want it.'

  'Oh, then, Curdie, you must call me just Irene and no more.'

  'No, indeed,' said the nurse indignantly. 'He shall do no such thing.'

  'What shall he call me, then, Lootie?'

  'Your Royal Highness.' 'My Royal Highness! What's that? No, no,Lootie. I won't be called names. I don't like them. You told me onceyourself it's only rude children that call names; and I'm sure Curdiewouldn't be rude. Curdie, my name's Irene.'

  'Well, Irene,' said Curdie, with a glance at the nurse which showed heenjoyed teasing her; 'it is very kind of you to let me call youanything. I like your name very much.'

  He expected the nurse to interfere again; but he soon saw that she wastoo frightened to speak. She was staring at something a few yardsbefore them in the middle of the path, where it narrowed between rocksso that only one could pass at a time.

  'It is very much kinder of you to go out of your way to take us home,'said Irene.

  'I'm not going out of my way yet,' said Curdie. 'It's on the otherside of those rocks the path turns off to my father's.'

  'You wouldn't think of leaving us till we're safe home, I'm sure,'gasped the nurse.

  'Of course not,' said Curdie.

  'You dear, good, kind Curdie! I'll give you a kiss when we get home,'said the princess.

  The nurse gave her a great pull by the hand she held. But at thatinstant the something in the middle of the way, which had looked like agreat lump of earth brought down by the rain, began to move. One afteranother it shot out four long things, like two arms and two legs, butit was now too dark to tell what they were. The nurse began to tremblefrom head to foot. Irene clasped Curdie's hand yet faster, and Curdiebegan to sing again:

  'One, two-- Hit and hew! Three, four-- Blast and bore! Five, six-- There's a fix! Seven, eight-- Hold it straight! Nine, ten-- Hit again! Hurry! scurry! Bother! smother! There's a toad In the road! Smash it! Squash it! Fry it! Dry it! You're another! Up and off! There's enough!-- Huuuuuh!'

  As he uttered the last words, Curdie let go his hold of his companion,and rushed at the thing in the road as if he would trample it under hisfeet. It gave a great spring, and ran straight up one of the rockslike a huge spider. Curdie turned back laughing, and took Irene's handagain. She grasped his very tight, but said nothing till they hadpassed the rocks. A few yards more and she found herself on a part ofthe road she knew, and was able to speak again.

  'Do you know, Curdie, I don't quite like your song: it sounds to merather rude,' she said.

  'Well, perhaps it is,' answered Curdie. 'I never thought of that; it'sa way we have. We do it because they don't like it.'

  'Who don't like it?'

  'The cobs, as we call them.'

  'Don't!' said the nurse.

  'Why not?' said Curdie.

  'I beg you won't. Please don't.'

  'Oh! if you ask me that way, of course, I won't; though I don't a bitknow why. Look! there are the lights of your great house down below.You'll be at home in five minutes now.'

  Nothing more happened. They reached home in safety. Nobody had missedthem, or even known they had gone out; and they arrived at the doorbelonging to their part of the house without anyone seeing them. Thenurse was rushing in with a hurried and not over-gracious good night toCurdie; but the princess pulled her hand from hers, and was justthrowing her arms round Curdie's neck, when she caught her again anddragged her away.

  'Lootie! Lootie! I promised a kiss,' cried Irene.

  'A princess mustn't give kisses. It's not at all proper,' said Lootie.

  'But I promised,' said the princess.

  'There's no occasion; he's only a miner-boy.'

  'He's a good boy, and a brave boy, and he has been very kind to us.Lootie! Lootie! I promised.'

  'Then you shouldn't have promised.'

  'Lootie, I promised him a kiss.'

  'Your Royal Highness,' said Lootie, suddenly grown very respectful,'must come in directly.'

  'Nurse, a princess must not break her word,' said Irene, drawingherself up and standing stock-still.

  Lootie did not know which the king might count the worst--to let theprincess be out after sunset, or to let her kiss a miner-boy. She didnot know that, being a gentleman, as many kings have been, he wouldhave counted neither of them the worse. However much he might havedisliked his daughter to kiss the miner-boy, he would not have had herbreak her word for all the goblins in creation. But, as I say, thenurse was not lady enough to understand this, and so she was in a greatdifficulty, for, if she insisted, someone might hear the princess cryand run to see, and then all would come out. But here Curdie cameagain to the rescue.

  'Never mind, Princess Irene,' he said. 'You mustn't kiss me tonight.But you shan't break your word.
I will come another time. You may besure I will.'

  'Oh, thank you, Curdie!' said the princess, and stopped crying.

  'Good night, Irene; good night, Lootie,' said Curdie, and turned andwas out of sight in a moment.

  'I should like to see him!' muttered the nurse, as she carried theprincess to the nursery.

  'You will see him,' said Irene. 'You may be sure Curdie will keep hisword. He's sure to come again.'

  'I should like to see him!' repeated the nurse, and said no more. Shedid not want to open a new cause of strife with the princess by sayingmore plainly what she meant. Glad enough that she had succeeded bothin getting home unseen, and in keeping the princess from kissing theminer's boy, she resolved to watch her far better in future. Hercarelessness had already doubled the danger she was in. Formerly thegoblins were her only fear; now she had to protect her charge fromCurdie as well.