“And so,” said Pellegrina, still staring at Edward.
“What happened to the princess?” said Abilene.
“And so,” said Pellegrina, turning back to Abilene, “the king, her father, said that the princess must marry; and soon after this, a prince came from a neighboring kingdom and he saw the princess and, immediately, he loved her. He gave her a ring of pure gold. He placed it on her finger. He said these words to her: ‘I love you.’ But do you know what the princess did?”
Abilene shook her head.
“She swallowed the ring. She took it from her finger and swallowed it. She said, ‘That is what I think of love.’ And she ran from the prince. She left the castle and went deep into the woods. And so.”
“And so what?” said Abilene. “What happened then?”
“And so, the princess became lost in the woods. She wandered for many days. Finally, she came to a little hut, and she knocked on the door. She said, ‘Let me in; I am cold.’
“There was no answer.
“She knocked again. She said, ‘Let me in; I am hungry.’
“A terrible voice answered her. The voice said, ‘Enter if you must.’
“The beautiful princess entered, and she saw a witch sitting at a table counting pieces of gold.
“‘Three thousand six hundred and twenty-two,’ said the witch.
“‘I am lost,’ said the beautiful princess.
“‘What of it?’ said the witch. ‘Three thousand six hundred and twenty-three.’
“‘I am hungry,’ said the princess.
“‘Not my concern,’ said the witch. ‘Three thousand six hundred and twenty-four.’
“‘But I am a beautiful princess,’ said the princess.
“‘Three thousand six hundred and twenty-five,’ replied the witch.
“‘My father,’ said the princess, ‘is a powerful king. You must help me or there will be consequences.’
“‘Consequences?’ said the witch. She looked up from her gold. She stared at the princess. ‘You dare to talk to me of consequences? Very well, then, we will speak of consequences: tell me the name of the one you love.’
“‘Love!’ said the princess. She stamped her foot. ‘Why must everyone always speak of love?’
“‘Whom do you love?’ said the witch. ‘You must tell me the name.’
“‘I love no one,’ said the princess proudly.
“‘You disappoint me,’ said the witch. She raised her hand and said one word: ‘Farthfigery.’
“And the beautiful princess was changed into a warthog.
“‘What have you done to me?’ squealed the princess.
“‘Talk to me of consequences now, will you?’ said the witch, and she went back to counting her pieces of gold. ‘Three thousand six hundred and twenty-six,’ said the witch as the warthog princess ran from the hut and out again into the forest.
“The kings’ men were in the forest, too. And what were they looking for? A beautiful princess. And so when they came upon an ugly warthog, they shot it immediately. Pow!”
“No,” said Abilene.
“Yes,” said Pellegrina. “The men took the warthog back to the castle and the cook slit open its belly and inside it she found a ring of pure gold. There were many hungry people in the castle that night and all of them were waiting to be fed. So the cook put the ring on her finger and finished butchering the warthog. And the ring that the beautiful princess had swallowed shone on the cook’s hand as she did her work. The end.”
“The end?” said Abilene indignantly.
“Yes,” said Pellegrina, “the end.”
“But it can’t be.”
“Why can’t it be?”
“Because it came too quickly. Because no one is living happily ever after, that’s why.”
“Ah, and so.” Pellegrina nodded. She was quiet for a moment. “But answer me this: how can a story end happily if there is no love? But. Well. It is late. And you must go to sleep.”
Pellegrina took Edward from Abilene. She put him in his bed and pulled the sheet up to his whiskers. She leaned close to him. She whispered, “You disappoint me.”
After the old lady left, Edward lay in his small bed and stared up at the ceiling. The story, he thought, had been pointless. But then most stories were. He thought of the princess and how she had become a warthog. How gruesome! How grotesque! What a terrible fate!
“Edward,” said Abilene, “I love you. I don’t care how old I get, I will always love you.”
Yes, yes, thought Edward.
He continued to stare up at the ceiling. He was agitated for some reason that he could not name. He wished that Pellegrina had put him on his side so that he might look at the stars.
And then he remembered Pellegrina’s description of the beautiful princess. She shone as bright as the stars on a moonless night. For some reason, Edward found comfort in these words and he repeated them to himself —
5
THE HOUSE ON EGYPT STREET became frantic with activity as the Tulane family prepared for their voyage to England. Edward possessed a small trunk, and Abilene packed it for him, filling it with his finest suits and several of his best hats and three pairs of shoes, all so that he might cut a fine figure in London. Before she placed each outfit in the trunk, she displayed it to him.
“Do you like this shirt with this suit?” she asked him.
Or, “Would you like to wear your black derby? You look very handsome in it. Shall we pack it?”
And then, finally, on a bright Saturday morning in May, Edward and Abilene and Mr. and Mrs. Tulane were all onboard the ship, standing at the railing. Pellegrina was at the dock. On her head, she wore a floppy hat strung around with flowers. She stared straight at Edward. Her dark eyes glowed.
“Goodbye,” Abilene shouted to her grandmother. “I love you.”
The ship pulled away from the dock. Pellegrina waved to Abilene.
“Goodbye, lady,” she called, “goodbye.”
Edward felt something damp in his ears. Abilene’s tears, he supposed. He wished that she would not hold him so tight. To be clutched so fiercely often resulted in wrinkled clothing. Finally, all the people on land, including Pellegrina, dis-appeared. Edward, for one, was relieved to see the last of her.
As was to be expected, Edward Tulane exacted much attention onboard the ship.
“What a singular rabbit,” said an elderly lady with three strings of pearls wrapped around her neck. She bent down to look more closely at Edward.
“Thank you,” said Abilene.
Several little girls onboard gave Edward deep glances full of longing. They asked Abilene if they might hold him.
“No,” said Abilene, “I’m afraid that he’s not the kind of rabbit who likes to be held by strangers.”
Two young boys, brothers named Martin and Amos, took a particular interest in Edward.
“What does he do?” Martin asked Abilene on their second day at sea. He pointed at Edward who was sitting on a deck chair with his long legs stretched in front of him.
“He doesn’t do anything,” said Abilene.
“Does he wind up somewhere?” asked Amos.
“No,” said Abilene, “he does not wind up.”
“What’s the point of him then?” said Martin.
