The Little Swineherd
THE PRINCE IN DISGUISE
HERE was once a poor prince, who had but a very small kingdom; still, as it was large enough to support a wife, he had a mind to marry.
It was, to be sure, rather bold of him to venture to say to the emperor’s daughter: “Will you have me?” Yet, venture he did; for his name was celebrated both far and near, and there were scores of princesses who would gladly have said “Yes”, but the question was, whether she would say so or not?
Now we shall see, presently.
Over the grave of the prince’s father there grew a rose-tree, and a beautiful rose-tree it was. It only bloomed once in every five years, and then it only bore one rose; but what a rose it was! Its perfume was so exquisite, that everybody forgot their cares and sorrows when they smelt it. Besides this, he had a nightingale, who sang as though all the lovely melodies in the world had been assembled in its little throat. He resolved to make the princess a present of this rose and this nightingale, and accordingly they were placed in two large silver shrines, and sent to her.
The emperor had them brought to him in a large room, where the princess was playing at “There came a knight a-wooing” with her ladies-in-waiting; and when she saw the silver shrines containing the presents, she clapped her hands for joy.
“GOOD MORNING,” SAID HE.
“If it could but be a kitten!” said she. But out came the rose-tree with the beautiful rose.
“How very elegantly it is made!” exclaimed all the court ladies.
“It is more than elegant,” said the emperor; “it is charming.”
But the princess, having felt it, was ready to cry.
“Fie, papa!” said she; “it is not an artificial rose, but merely a natural one.”
“Fie!” echoed all the ladies-in-waiting, “it is merely a natural rose.”
“Let’s see what the other shrine may contain, before we fly into a passion,” said his majesty; and then out came the nightingale, and sang so sweetly, that nobody at first thought of any spiteful fault-finding
“Superbe! charmant!” cried the court ladies; for they all chattered French, however badly.
“The bird reminds me of the late empress’s musical-box,” observed an old lord-in-waiting; “it has the same tone and the same execution.”
“Yes,” said the emperor, crying like a little child.
“But it is not a real bird, I trust ?” asked the princess.
“Yes, it is a real bird,” said those who had brought it.
“Then let it fly away,” said the princess, who would not hear of the prince coming to pay his respects to her.
But he was not to be discouraged. He painted his countenance brown and black, drew his cap over his forehead, and then knocked at the palace door.
“Good morning, emperor,” said he; “can I find any employment at the palace?”
“Why,” said the emperor, “there are so many that apply for places, that I really don’t know whether we can do any-
