The sorcerer muttered to himself and turned over the pages, and then stopped at one on which Michael saw little figures of Kings and Queens of all sorts, some of which he knew, and some of which he had never seen before.
“There,” he cried, “is old King Réné who came to our court last year, and that is Queen Constance, and that is their nephew Prince Guilbert, who will be king when they are dead, and here are our neighbours the King and Queen of the next country, and oh, my father, who is this lovely Princess next to them?”
“ ’Tis their daughter Princess Joan,” said the wizard with a sigh. “But do not look at her, my son, for she will bring nothing but trouble to all who know her.”
“I don’t care if she bring trouble or happiness,” cried the Prince. “But for certain she is the most beautiful creature in the world,” and he seized the book and looked long at the tiny figure of the Princess. Truly it was very beautiful. It was dressed in white, with a golden girdle round the waist, and a wreath of golden daisies on its head, and as Michael looked, it turned upon the pages, and smiled at him till he smiled back again, and could not move his eyes from it.
When the wizard saw this, he took the book from the young man’s hands, and hid it away, saying,
“Think no more of Princess Joan, however beautiful she be, or one day you will rue it dearly.”
Prince Michael made no answer, but he thought all the more of the little picture of the Princess. After he had left the tower, and returned to the palace, he could not forget her, but dreamt of her all night, and thought of her all day.
Next morning he went to the King and said, “My father, I am come to beg that you will send to the King of the next country and ask if I may have his daughter, Princess Joan, for my wife, for I have seen her portrait, and there is no one in the world whom I love so well.”
When the King heard this he was delighted.
“Our good neighbours,” he said, “are rich and powerful, and it will be a capital thing for our son to marry their daughter.” So he at once sent off an ambassador to beg for the hand of Princess Joan for Prince Michael.
Joan’s father and mother were delighted with the offer, and at once resolved to accept it; but the Queen’s heart sank within her, for she thought, “Our poor Joan is not like any other maid who ever lived before, and perhaps when Prince Michael sees her and finds this out, he will refuse to wed her after all;” but she said nothing of her fears, and the ambassador returned to the court, loaded with presents, and bearing a message of acceptance.
Till his return Prince Michael knew no peace or rest, but wandered about among the hills by himself, thinking of Joan, and still, in his heart, he wondered what the magician had meant when he said that if he thought much of Princess Joan, one day he would rue it.
At last he said to himself, “I will disguise myself as a poor man, and go and see my Princess for myself before the ambassador returns, then shall I know what the wizard means.”
So he dressed himself as a peasant, and started alone without telling anyone whither he went, and he travelled day and night till he came to the country where Joan dwelt and to her father’s palace. Then he walked near the palace gardens, and no one noticed him, and he saw a group of lovely ladies, who sat together on the grass.
His heart beat high as he looked at them, for in their midst, most beautiful of all, sat the Princess Joan. Her yellow hair fell to her waist, her face was like a blush rose, and her eyes were blue as forget-me-nots, but when she lifted them, he saw that they were clear and hard as glass, and her voice when she spoke was like a bright cold bell.
There ran up to her a little serving-maid, crying bitterly, and said,
“I beg of you, Princess, to let me return to my own home for a time, for my father, the huntsman, has broken his leg and is very ill.”
“Why should you cry for that?” said the Princess. “ ’Tis your father and not you that is hurt; but you may go, for when you cry and your eyes look red you are ugly, and I don’t like to see you, so be sure that when you return you are pretty and bright as ever.”
When her ladies heard her they looked angry, but no one spoke, and the little maid went crying away.
Up there came a groom from the palace and said,
“Your Royal Highness, the horse that you rode yesterday is dead, and we think it is because you would ride so far when it was already tired, as we told you.”
“Dead is it?” cried the Princess. “Then see quickly and get me another, that I may ride again tomorrow, and be sure this time that it is a good strong horse, or it may give way beneath me and so my ride be shortened.”
The groom went away muttering, and the Princess’s ladies looked even graver than before, but the Princess’s own face was bright as a summer sky, and she talked on without heeding their sad looks.
Prince Michael turned away with a heavy heart.
“The magician spoke truly,” he said to himself, “and there will be nothing but sorrow for all those who love my poor Princess Joan.”
Yet he could not bear to leave her and return at once to his own home, and still he remained near the palace, and for
