The Birthday of the Infanta

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
It was the birthday of the Infanter. She was just
twelve years of age, and the sun was shining brightly
in the gardens of the palace. Although she was a
real princess and the Infanter of Spain, she had only
one birthday every year, just like the children of quite
poor people. So it was naturally a matter of great
importance to the whole country that she should have a

(00:23):
really fine day for the occasion, and a really fine
day it certainly was. The tall striped tulips stood straight
up upon their stalks, like long rows of soldiers, and
looked defiantly across the grass at the roses and said,
we are quite as splendid as you are now. The

(00:44):
purple butterflies fluttered about with gold dust on their wings,
visiting each flower in turn. The little lizards crept out
of the crevices of the wall and lay basking in
the white glare, and the pomegranates split and cracked with
the heat and showed their bleeding red hearts. Even the
pale yellow lemons that hung in such profusion from the

(01:06):
moldering trellis and along the de arcades seemed to have
caught a richer color from the wonderful sunlight, and the
magnolia trees opened their great globe like blossoms of folded
ivory and filled the air with a sweet, heavy perfume.
The little Princess herself walked up and down the terrace
with her companions and played at hide and seek round

(01:29):
the stone vases and the old moss grown statues. On
ordinary days, she was only allowed to play with children
of her own rank, so she had always to play alone.
But her birthday was an exception, and the king had
given orders that she was to invite any of her
young friends whom she liked, to come and amuse themselves
with her. There was a stately grace about these slim

(01:52):
Spanish children as they glided about their boys with their
large plumed hats and short fluttering cloaks, the girls holding
up the trains of their long brocaded gowns and shielding
the sun from their eyes with huge fans of black
and silver. But the Infanter was the most graceful of all,

(02:12):
and the most tastefully attired after the somewhat cumbrous fashion
of the day. Her robe was of gray satin, the
skirt and the wide puffed sleeves heavily embroidered with silver,
and a stiff corset studded with rows of fine pearls.
Two tiny slippers with big pink rosettes peeped out beneath

(02:33):
her dress as she walked. Pink and pearl was her
great gauze fan, and in her hair, which like an
aureole of faded gold, stood out stiffly round her pale
little face, she had a beautiful white rose. From a
window in the palace, the sad, melancholy King watched them.

(02:54):
Behind him stood his brother Don Petro of Aragon, whom
he hated, and his confessor, the Grand Inquisitor of Grenada,
sat by his side. Saddah even than usual was the King,
for as he looked at the infant, bowing with childish
gravity to the assembling countess, or laughing behind her fan

(03:15):
at the grim Duchess of Albuquerque, who always accompanied her,
he thought of the young queen, her mother, who but
a short time before, so it seemed to him, had
come from the gay country of France, and had withered
away in a somber splendor of the Spanish court, dying
just six months after the birth of her child, and

(03:37):
before she had seen the almonds blossom twice in the orchard,
or plucked the second year's fruit from the old, gnarled
fig tree that stood in the center of the now
grass grown courtyard. So great had been his love for
her that he had not suffered even the grave to
hide her from him. She had been embalmed by a

(03:58):
Moorish physician, who, in return for this service had been
granted his life, which for heresy and suspicion of magical
practices had been already forfeited, men said to the Holy Office.
And her body was still lying on its tapestried bier
in the black marble chapel of the palace, just as
the monks had borne her in on that windy March

(04:19):
day nearly twelve years before. Once every month the king,
wrapped in a dark cloak and with a muffled lantern
in his hand, went and knelt by her side, calling
out Mi Reyna, Mi reyna, and sometimes breaking through the
formal etiquette that in Spain governs every separate action of
life and sets limits even to the sorrows of a king,

(04:42):
he would clutch at the pale jeweled hands in a
wild agony of grief, and try to wake by his
mad kisses the cold painted face. To day he seemed
to see her again, as he had seen her first
at the Castle of Fontainebleau, when he was but fifteen
years of age and she still younger. They had been

(05:04):
formally betrothed on that occasion by the Papal Nuncio in
the presence of the French King and all the court,
and he had returned to the escurial bearing with him
a little ringlet of yellow hair and a memory of
two childish lips bending down to kiss his hand as
he stepped into his carriage. Later on had followed the

(05:25):
marriage hastily performed at Burgos, a small town on the
frontier between the two countries, and a grand public entry
into Madrid with the customary celebration of high Mass at
the Church of La Atocha, and the more than usually
solemn Auto d'afae, in which nearly three hundred heretics, amongst
whom were many Englishmen, had been delivered over to the

(05:48):
Secular arm to be burned. Certainly, he had loved her madly,
and to the ruin many forts of his country, then
at war with England for the possession of the m
of the new world. He had hardly ever permitted her
to be out of his sight. For her, he had forgotten,
or seemed to have forgotten, all grave affairs of state.

(06:12):
And with that terrible blindness, that passion which brings upon
its servants, he had failed to notice that the elaborate
ceremonies by which he sought to please her did but
aggravate the strange malady from which she suffered. When she died,
he was for a time like one bereft of reason. Indeed,

(06:32):
there is no doubt but that he would have formerly
abdicated and retired to the great Trappist monastery at Grenada,
of which he was already titular prior, had he not
been afraid to leave the little Infanta the mercy of
his brother, whose cruelty even in Spain was notorious, and
who was suspected by many of having caused the Queen's

(06:54):
death by means of a pair of poisoned gloves that
he had presented to her on the occasion of her
visiting his castle in Aragun, even after the expiration of
the three years of public mourning that he had ordained
throughout his whole dominions by royal edict he would never
suffer his ministers to speak about any new alliance. And

(07:15):
when the Emperor himself sent to him and offered him
the hand of the lovely Archduchess of Bohemia, his niece
in marriage, he bade the ambassadors tell their master that
the King of Spain was already wedded to sorrow, and
that though she was but a barren bride, he loved
her better than beauty, an answer that cost his crown

(07:37):
the rich provinces of the Netherlands, which soon after, at
the Emperor's instigation, revolted against him under the leadership of
some fanatics of the Reformed Church. His whole married life,
with its fierce, fiery, colored joys and a terrible agony
of its sudden ending, seemed to come back to him

(07:58):
to day as he watched the Phanta playing on the terrace.
She had all the Queen's pretty petulance of manner, the
same wilful way of tossing her head, the same proud, curved,
beautiful mouth, the same wonderful smile Re sourier de France. Indeed,

(08:19):
as she glanced up now and then at the window,
or stretched out her little hand for the stately Spanish
gentleman to kiss. But the shrill laughter of the children
grated on his ears, and the bright, pitiless sunlight mocked
his sorrow, and a dull odor of strange spices, spices
such as embalmers use, seemed to taint or was it

(08:43):
fancy the clear morning air. He buried his face in
his hands, And when the Infanta looked up again, the
curtains had been drawn and the king had retired, she
made a little move of disappointment and shrugged her shoulders.
He might have stayed with her on her birthday, What

(09:03):
did the stupid state affairs matter? Or had he gone
to that gloomy chapel where the candles were always burning,
and where she was never allowed to enter. How silly
of him when the sun was shining so brightly and
everybody was so happy. Besides, he would miss the sham

(09:23):
bull fight, for which the trumpet was already sounding, to
say nothing of the puppet show and the other wonderful things.
Her uncle and the Grand Inquisitor were much more sensible.
They had come out on the terrace and paid her
nice compliments. So she tossed her pretty head, and taking
Don Petro by the hand. She walked slowly down the

(09:47):
steps towards a long pavilion of purple silk that had
been erected at the end of the garden, the other
children following in strict order of precedence, those who had
the longest names going first. A procession of noble boys
fantastically dressed as torridors, came out to meet her, and
a young Count of Tierra Nueva, a wonderfully handsome lad

(10:10):
of about fourteen years of age, uncovering his head with
all the grace of a born Hidalgo and grandee of Spain,
led her solemnly into a little gilt and ivory chair
that was placed on a raised day above the arena.
The children grouped themselves all round, fluttering their big fans

(10:30):
and whispering to each other, and Don Pedro and the
Grand Inquisitor stood laughing at the entrance. Even the Duchess,
the Camarera Maya, as she was called, a thin, hard
featured woman with a yellow ruff, did not look quite
so bad tempered as usual, and something like a chill
smile flitted across her wrinkled face and twitched her thin,

(10:53):
bloodless lips. It certainly was a marvelous bull fight, and
much the infantafort than the real bull fight that she
had been brought to see at Seville on the occasion
of the visit of the Duke of Palmer to her father.
Some of the boys pranced about on richly caparison hobby horses,

(11:14):
brandishing long javelins with gay streamers of bright ryebands attached
to them. Others went on foot, waving their scarlet cloaks
before the bull and vaulting lightly over the barrier when
he charged them. And as for the bull himself, he
was just like a live bull, though he was only
made of wicker work and stretched hide, and sometimes insisted

(11:37):
on running round the arena on his hind legs, which
no live bull ever dreams of doing. He made a
splendid fight of it, too, and his children got so
excited that they stood up upon the benches and waved
their lace handkerchiefs and cried out Bravo Torrow, Bravo torrow,
just as sensibly as if they had been grown up people.

(12:00):
At last, however, after a prolonged combat during which several
of the hobby horses were gored through and through, and
their riders dismounted, The young Count of Tierra Nueva brought
the bull to his knees, and, having obtained permission from
the Infanta to give the coup de grass, he plunged
his wooden sword into the neck of the animal with

(12:22):
such violence that the head came right off and disclosed
a laughing face of little Monsieur de Laurin, the son
of the French ambassador at Madrid. The arena was then
cleared amidst much applause, and the dead hobby horses dragged
solemnly away by two Moorish pages in yellow and black liveries.

(12:44):
And after a short interlude, during which a French posture
master performed upon the tightrope, some Italian puppets appeared in
a semi classical tragedy of Sophonisba on the stage of
a small theater that had been built up for the purpose.
They acted so well, and their gestures were so extremely natural,

(13:04):
that at the clothes of the play, the eyes of
the Infanter were quite dim with tears. Indeed, some of
the children really cried and had to be comforted with sweetmeats,
and the Grand Inquisitor himself was so affected that he
could not help saying to Don Pedro that it seemed
to him intolerable that things made simply out of wood

(13:24):
and colored wax, and worked mechanically by wires should be
so unhappy and meet with such terrible misfortunes. An African
juggler followed, who brought in a large flat basket covered
with a red cloth, and having placed it in the
center of the arena, he took from his turban a
curious reed pipe and blew through it. In a few moments,

(13:48):
the cloth began to move, and as the pipe grew
shriller and shriller, two green and gold snakes put out
their strange wedge shaped heads and rose up slowly, swaying
to and fro with the music as a plant sways
in the water. The children, however, were rather frightened that
their spotted hoods and quick darting tongs, and were much

(14:09):
more pleased when the juggler made a tiny orange tree
grow out of the sand and bare pretty white blossoms
and clusters of real fruit, And when he took the
fan of the little daughter of the Marques de Lastores
and changed it into a blue bird that flew all
around the pavilion and sang. Their delight and amazement knew

(14:31):
no bounds. The solemn mignuet, too, performed by the dancing
boys from the Church of Nuesta Senora del Pilar, was charming.
The Infanta had never before seen this wonderful ceremony, which
takes place every year at maytime in front of the
high Altar of the Virgin and in her honor. And indeed,

(14:52):
none of the royal family of Spain had entered the
Great Cathedral of Saragosa since a mad priest, supposed by
many to have been in the pain Elizabeth of England,
had tried to administer a poisoned wafer to the Prince
of the Asturias. So she had known only by hearsay
of our ladies dance, as it was called, and it

(15:13):
certainly was a beautiful sight. The boys wore old fashioned
court dresses of white velvet, and their curious three cornered
hats were fringed with silver and surmounted with huge plumes
of ostrich feathers. The dazzling whiteness of their costumes as
they moved about in the sunlight being still more accentuated

(15:34):
by their swarthy faces and long black hair. Everybody was
fascinated by the grave dignity with which they moved through
the intricate figures of the dance, and by the elaborate
graces of their slow gestures and stately boughs. And when
they had finished their performance and off their great plumed
hats to the Infanta, she acknowledged their reverence with much courtesy,

(15:57):
and made a vow that she would send a large
wax candle to the shrine of our Lady of Pilar
in return for the pleasure that she had given her.
A troop of handsome Egyptians, as the Gypsies were termed
in those days, then advanced into the arena, and, sitting down,
crossed legs in a circle, began to place softly upon

(16:18):
their zivers, moving their bodies to the tune, and humming
almost below their breath, a low, dreamy air. When they
caught sight of Don Pedro, they scowled at him, and
some of them looked terrified, for only a few weeks
before he had had two of their tribe hanged for
sorcery in the market place at Seville. But the pretty

(16:39):
Infanter charmed them as she leaned back, peeping over her
fan with her great blue eyes, and they felt sure
that one as lovely as she was could never be
cruel to any one. So they played on very gently
and just touching the cords of the zivers with their
long pointed nails, and their heads began to nod as

(17:02):
though they were falling asleep. Suddenly, with a cry so
shrill that all the children were startled, and Don Pedro's
hand clutched at the agate pommel of his dagger. They
leaped to their feet and whirled madly round the enclosure,
beating their tambourines and chanting some wild love song in
their strange guttural language. Then at another signal, they all

(17:25):
flung themselves again to the ground and lay there quite still,
the dull strumming of the ziphas being the only sound
that broke the silence. After that they had done this
several times, they disappeared for a moment and came back,
leading a brown shaggy bear by a chain and carrying
on their shoulders some little barbary apes. The bear stood

(17:49):
upon his head with the utmost gravity, and the wizened
apes played all kinds of amusing tricks with two gipsy
boys who seemed to be their masters. And fought with
tiny so lords, and fired off guns and went through
a regular soldiers drill, just like the king's own bodyguard.
In fact, the Gypsies were a great success, but the

(18:10):
funniest part of the whole morning's entertainment was undoubtedly the
dancing of the little Dwarf. When he stumbled into the arena,
waddling on his crooked legs and wagging his huge, misshapen
head from side to side, their children went off into
a loud shout of delight, and the Infanta herself laughed

(18:30):
so much that the Camara was obliged to remind her
that although there were many precedents in Spain for a
king's daughter weeping before her equals, there were none for
a princess of the blood royal making so merry before
those who were her inferiors in birth. The dwarf, however,
was really quite irresistible, and even at the Spanish court,

(18:53):
always noted for its cultivated passion for the horrible, so
fantastic a little monster had never been seen. It was
his first appearance, too. He had been discovered only the
day before, running wild through the forest by two of
the nobles who happened to have been hunting in a
remote part of the great cork wood that surrounded the town,

(19:15):
and had been carried off by them to the palace
as a surprise for the Infanter, his father, who was
a poor charcoal burner, being but too well pleased to
get rid of so ugly and useless a child. Perhaps
the most amusing thing about him was his complete unconsciousness
of his own grotesque appearance. Indeed, he seemed quite happy

(19:37):
and full of the highest spirits. When the children laughed,
he laughed as freely and as joyously as any of them,
And at the close of each dance he made them
each the funniest of boughs, smiling and nodding at them,
just as if he was really one of themselves, and
not a little misshapen thing that nature, in some humorous

(19:58):
mood had fashioned for us to mock at. As for
the Infanta, she absolutely fascinated him. He could not keep
his eyes off her, and seemed to dance for her alone,
And when at the close of the performance, remembering how
she had seen the great ladies of the court, fro
bouquase to Caffarelli, the famous Italian treble whom the Pope

(20:20):
had sent from his own chapel to Madrid that he
might cure the King's melancholy by the sweetness of his voice.
She took out of her hair the beautiful white rose, and,
partly for a jest and partly to tease the Camarera,
threw it to him across the arena with her sweetest smile.
He took the whole matter quite seriously, and, pressing the

(20:41):
flower to his rough, coarse lips, he put his hand
upon his heart and sank on one knee before her,
grinning from ear to ear, and with his little bright
eyes sparkling with pleasure. This so upset the gravity of
the Infanta that she kept on laughing long after. The
little dwarf had ran out of the arena and expressed

(21:02):
a desire to her uncle that the dance should be
immediately repeated. The Camarer, however, on the plea that the
sun was too hot, decided that it would be better
that her Highness should return without delay to the palace,
where a wonderful feast had been already prepared for her,
including a real birthday cake with her own initials worked

(21:23):
all over it in painted sugar, and a lovely silver
flag waving from the top. The Infanta accordingly rose up
with much dignity, and having given orders that the little
Dwarf was to dance again for her after the hour
of siesta, and conveyed her thanks to the young Count
of Tierra Nueva for his charming reception. She went back

(21:46):
to her apartments, the children following in the same order
in which they had entered. Now. When the little Dwarf
heard that he was to dance a second time before
the Infanta, and by her own express command, he was
so proud that he ran out into the garden, kissing
the white rose in an absurd ecstasy of pleasure, and

(22:07):
making the most uncouth and clumsy gestures of delight. The
flowers were quite indignant at his daring to intrude into
their beautiful home, and when they saw him capering up
and down the walks and waving his arms above his
head in such a ridiculous manner, they could not restrain
their feelings any longer. He is really far too ugly

(22:29):
to be allowed to play in any place where, we are,
cried the tulips. He shall drink poppy juice and go
to sleep. For a thousand years since the great scarlet lilies,
and they grew quite hot and angry. He is a
perfect horror, screamed the cactus. Why he is twisted and stumpy,
and his head is completely out of proportion with his legs. Really,

(22:54):
he makes me feel prickly all over. If he comes
near me, I will stink him with my thorns. And
he has actually got one of my best blooms, exclaimed
the white rose tree. I gave it to the infander
this morning myself as a birthday present, and he is
stone in it from her. And she called out thief, thief,

(23:17):
thief at the top of her voice. Even the red geraniums,
who did not usually give themselves airs and were known
to have a great many poor relations, themselves, curled up
in disgust when they saw him. And when the violence
meekly remarked that though he was extremely plain, still he
could not help it, they retorted with a good deal

(23:38):
of justice, that that was his chief defect, and that
there was no reason why one should admire a person
because he was incurable. And indeed, some of the violets
themselves felt that the ugliness of the little dwarf was
almost ostentatious, and that he would have shown much better
taste if he had looked sad or at least pensive,

(23:58):
instead of jumping about merrily and throwing himself into such
grotesque and silly attitudes. As for the old Sundial, who
was an extremely remarkable individual and at once told the
time of day to no less a person than the
Emperor Charles the Fifth himself, he was so taken aback
by the little dwarf's appearance that he almost forgot to

(24:20):
mark two whole minutes with his long, shadowy finger, and
could not help saying to the great milk white peacock,
who was sunning herself in a balustrade, that every one
knew that the children of kings were kings, and that
the children of charcoal burners were charcoal burners, and that
it was absurd to pretend that it wasn't so, a
statement with which the peacock entirely agreed, and indeed screamed out, certainly, certainly,

(24:48):
in such a loud, harsh voice, that the goldfish who
lived in the basin of the cool splashing fountain put
their heads out of the water and asked the huge
stone tritus what on earth was the master? But somehow,
the birds liked him. They had seen him often in
the forest, dancing about like an elf after the eddying leaves,

(25:10):
or crouched up in the hollow of some old oak tree,
sharing his nuts with the squirrels. They did not mind
his being ugly a bit. Why, even the nightingale herself,
who sang so sweetly in the orange grooves at night
that sometimes the moon leaned down to listen, was not
much to look at after all, And besides he had

(25:30):
been kind to them. And during that terribly bitter winter,
when there were no berries on the trees and the
ground was as hard as iron, and the wolves had
come down to the very gates of the city to
look for food, he had never once forgotten them, but
had always given them the crumbs out of his little
hunch of black bread, and divided with them whatever poor
breakfast he had. So they flew round and round him,

(25:56):
just touching his cheek with their wings as they passed
and chatted to each other, And the little dwarf was
so pleased that he could not help showing them the
beautiful white rose and telling them that the infanter herself
had given it to him because she loved him. They
did not understand a single word of what he was saying,
but that made no matter, for they put their heads

(26:17):
on one side and looked wise, which is quite as
good as understanding a thing, and very much easier. The
lizards also took an immense fancy to him, and when
he grew tired of running about and flung himself down
on a grass to rest, they played and romped all
over him and tried to amuse him in the best
way they could. Every One cannot be as beautiful as

(26:40):
a lizard, they cried, That would be too much to expect.
And though it sounds absurd to say so, he is
really not so ugly after all, provided, of course, that
one shuts one's eyes and does not look at him.
The lizards were extremely philosophical by nature, and often sat
thinking for hours and hours together when there's nothing else

(27:01):
to do, or when the weather was too rainy for
them to go out. The flowers, however, were excessively annoyed
at their behavior, and that the behavior of the birds
it only shows, they said, what a vulgarizing effects this
incessant rushing and flying about has well bled people always
stay exactly in the same place as we do. No

(27:24):
one ever saw us hopping up and down the walks,
or galloping madly through the grass after the dragon flies.
When we do one change of air, we send for
the gardener, and he carries us to another bed. This
is dignified, and as it should be. But birds and
lizards have no sense of repose, and indeed birds have
not even a permanent to dress. They are mere vagrants

(27:47):
like the gypsies, and should be treated in exactly the
same manner. So they put their noses in the air
and looked very haughty, and were quite delighted when after
some time they saw the little dwarf scramble up from
the grass and make his way across the terrace to
the palace. He should certainly be kept indoors for the
rest of his natural life, they said, Look at his

(28:10):
hunched back and his crooked legs, and they began to titter.
But the little dwarf knew nothing of all this. He
liked the birds and the lizards immensely, and thought that
the flowers were the most marvelous things in the whole world, except,
of course, the infanter. But then she had given him
the beautiful white rose, and she loved him, and that

(28:33):
made a great difference. How he wished that he had
gone back with her. She would have put him on
her right hand and smiled at him, and he would
have never left her side, but would have made her
his playmate and taught her all kinds of delightful tricks.
For though he had never been in a palace before,
he knew a great many wonderful things. He could make

(28:56):
little cages out of rushes for the grasshoppers to sing in,
and fashioned the long jointed bamboo into the pipe that
pan loves to hear. He knew the cry of every bird,
and could call the starlings from the tree top or
the heron from the mere. He knew the trail of
every animal, and could track the hare by its delicate footprints,

(29:19):
and the boar by the trampled leaves. All the wild dances.
He knew, the mad dance in red raiment with the autumn,
the light dance in blue sandals over the corn that
dance with the white snow reefs in winter, and the
blossom dance through the orchards in spring. He knew where
the woodpigeons built their nests, and once when a fowler

(29:39):
had snared the parent birds. He had brought up the
young ones himself, and had built a little dove cot
for them in the cleft of a pollard elm. They
were quite tame and used to feed out of his
hand every morning. She would like them, and the rabbits
that scurried about in the long fern and a jazze
with their steely feathers and black bill and the hedgehogs

(30:01):
that could curl themselves up into prickly balls, and the
great wise tortoises that crawled slowly about, shaking their heads
and nibbling at the young leaves. Yes, she must certainly
come to the forest and play with him. He would
give her his own little bed and would watch outside
the window till dawn to see that the wild horned

(30:22):
cattle did not harm her, nor the gaunt wolves creep
too near the hut. And at dawn he would tap
her the shutters and wake her, and they would go
out and dance together all the day long. It was
really not a bit lonely in a forest. Sometimes a
bishop rode through on his white mule, reading out of

(30:42):
a painted book, Sometimes in their green velvet caps and
their jerkins of tanned deer skin. The falconers passed by
with hooded hawks on their wrists. At vintage time came
the grape traders with purple hands and feet, wreathed with
glossy ivy, and carrying dripping skins of wine. And the
charcoal burners sat round their huge braziers at night, watching

(31:05):
their dry logs charring slowly in the fire and roasting
chestnuts in their ashes. And the robbers came out of
their caves and made merry with them. Once too, he
had seen a beautiful procession winding up the long dusty
road to Torledo. The monks went in front, singing sweetly
and carrying bright banners and crosses of gold. And then

(31:28):
in silver armor with matchlocks and pikes, came as soldiers,
and in their midst watched three barefooted men in strange
yellow dresses, painted all over with wonderful figures, and carrying
lighted candles in their hands. Certainly there was a great
deal to look at in the forest, And when she
was tired, he would find a soft bank of moss

(31:50):
for her, or carry her in his arms, for he
was very strong. Though he knew that he was not tall.
He would make her a necklace, a red briny berry
that would be quite as pretty as the white berries
that she wore on her dress. And when she was
tired of them, she could throw them away, and he
would find her others. He would bring her acorn cups

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and dew drenched anemones and tiny glow worms to be
stars in the pale gold of her hair. But where
was she, he asked the white rose, and it made
him no answer. The whole palace seemed asleep, and even
where their shutters had not been closed, heavy curtains had
been drawn across the windows to keep out the glare.

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He wandered all round, looking for some place through which
he might gain an entrance, and at last he caught
sight of a little private door that was lying open.
He slipped through and found himself in a splendid hall,
far more splendid, he feared, than the forest. There was
so much more gilding everywhere, and even the floor was

(32:52):
made of great colored stones, fitted together into a sort
of geometrical pattern. But little Infanter was not there, only
some wonderful white statues that looked down at him from
their jasper pedestals with sad, blank eyes. And strangely smiling lips.
At the end of the hall rung a richly embroidered

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curtain of black velvet, powdered with suns and stars, the
king's favorite devices, and embroidered on the color he loved best.
Perhaps she was hiding behind that he would try at
any rate, So he stole quietly across and drew it aside. No,
there was only another room, though a prettier room he

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fought than the one he had just left. The walls
were hung with a many figured, green arrass of needle
wrought tapestry representing a hunt, the work of some Flemish
artists who had spent more than seven years in its composition.
It had once been the chamber of Jean Lefaux, as
he was called, that mad king who was so enamored

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of the chase that he had often tried, in his
delirium to mount the huge, rearing horses and to drag
down the stag on which the great hounds were leaping,
sounding his hunting horn and stabbing with his dagger at
the pale flying deer. It was now used as the
council room, and on the center table were lying the
red portfolios of the ministers stamped with the gold tulips

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of Spain and with the arms and emblems of the
House of Habsburg. The little dwarf looked in wonder all
round him, and was half afraid to go on. The strange,
silent horsemen that galloped so swiftly through the long glades
without making any noise, seemed to him like those terrible
phantoms of whom he had heard the charcoal Bernard speaking,

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the comprachos, who hunts only at night, and if they
meet a man, turn him into a hind and chase him.
But he thought of the pretty infanter and took courage.
He wanted to find her alone and to tell her
that he too loved her. Perhaps she was in the
room beyond. He ran across the soft Moorish carpets and

(35:04):
opened the door. No, she was not here either. The
room was quite empty. It was a throne room used
for the reception of foreign ambassadors when the king, which
of late had not been often, consented to give them
a personal audience. The same room in which many years
before envoys had appeared from England to make arrangements for

(35:26):
the marriage of their queen. Then one of the Catholic
sovereigns of Europe with the emperor's eldest son. The hangings
were of gilt cordoven lever, and a heavy gilt chandelier
with branches for three hundred wax lights hung down from
a black and white ceiling. Underneath a great canopy of
gold cloth, on which the lions and towers of the

(35:48):
Castile were embroidered in seed pearls. Stood the throne, itself,
covered with a rich pall of black velvet, studded with
silver tulips and elaborately fringed with silver and pearls. On
the second step of the throne was placed a kneeling
stool of the Infanta, of its cushion of cloth of
silver tissue. And below that, again, and beyond the limit

(36:10):
of the canopy, stood the chair for the Papal Nuncio,
who alone had the right to be seated in the
king's presence on the occasion of any public ceremonial, and
whose cardinal's hat with its tangled scarlet tassels, lay on
a purple tabouret in front. On the wall facing the
throne hung the life sized portrait of Charles the Fifth

(36:33):
in hunting dress with a great mastiff by his side,
and a picture of Philip the Second, receiving the homage
of the Netherlands. Occupied the center of the other wall.
Between the windows stood a black ebony cabinet, inlaid with
plates of ivory, on which the figures from Holbein's Dance
of Death had been graved by the hand. Some said

(36:53):
of that famous master himself. But the little dwarf cared
nothing for all this magnificence. He would not have given
his rose for all the pearls and a canopy, nor
one white petal of his rose for the throne itself.
What he wanted was to see the Infanter before she
went down to the pavilion, and to ask her to
come away with him when he had finished his dance.

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Here in the palace the air was close and heavy,
but in the forest the wind blew free, and a
sunlight with wandering hands of gold moved the tremulous leaves aside.
There were flowers too in the forest, not so splendid,
perhaps as the flowers in the garden, but more sweetly scented.
For all that, hyacinths in early spring that flooded with

(37:39):
waving purple, The cool glens and grassy knolls, yellow primroses
that nestled in little clumps round the gnarll roots of
the oak trees, bright celandine and blue, speedwell and irises,
lilac and gold. There were gray catkins on the hazels,
and the foxgloves drooped with the weight of their dappled
bee haunted cells. The chestnut had its spires of white stars,

(38:02):
and a hawthorn its pallid moons of beauty. Yes, surely
she would come, if he could only find her. She
would come with him to the fair forest, and all
day long he would dance for her delight. A smile
lit up his eyes at the fort, and he passed
into the next room. Of all the rooms, this was
the brightest and most beautiful. The walls were covered with

(38:26):
a pink flowered look a da mask patterned with birds
and dotted with dainty blossoms of silver. The furniture was
of massive silver, festooned with florid reefs and swinging cupids.
In front of the two large fireplaces stood great screens
broidered with parrots and peacocks. And on the floor, which

(38:47):
was of sea green onyx, seemed to stretch far away
into the distance, nor was he alone. Standing under the
shadow of the doorway at the extreme end of the room,
he saw a little figure watching him. His heart trembled,
a cry of joy broke from his lips, and he
moved out into the sunlight. As he did so, the

(39:10):
figure moved out also, and he saw it plainly the infanter.
It was a monster, the most grotesque monster he had
ever beheld, not properly shaped as all other people were,
but hunchbacked and crooked limbed, with huge, lolling head and
mane of black hair. The little dwarf frowned, and the

(39:32):
monster frowned also. He laughed, and it laughed with him,
and held its hand to its sides, just as he
himself was doing. He made it a mocking bow, and
it returned him a low reverence. He went towards it,
and it came to meet him, copying each step that
he made, and stopping. When he stopped himself. He shouted

(39:53):
with amusement, and ran forward and reached out his hand,
and the hand of the monster touched his, and it
was as cold as ice. He grew afraid and moved
his hand across, and a monster's hand followed it. Quickly.
He tried to press on, but something smooth and hard
stopped him. The face of the monster was now close

(40:16):
to his own, and seemed full of terror. He brushed
his hair off his eyes. It imitated him. He struck
at it, and it returned blow for blow. He loathed it,
and it made hideous faces at him. He drew back,
and it retreated. What is it? He fought for a moment,
and looked round at the rest of the room. It

(40:38):
was strange, but everything seemed to have its double in
this invisible wall of clear water. Yes, picture of a
picture was repeated, and a couch for couch. The sleeping
fawn that lay in the alcove by the doorway had
its twin brother that slumbered, and a silver venus that
stood in the sunlight held out her arms to a
venus as lovely as herself. Was it echo? He had

(41:02):
called to her once in the valley, and she had
answered him word for word. Could she mock the eye
as she mocked a voice? Could she make a minic
world just like the real world. Could the shadows of
things have color and life and movement? Could it be
that he started and taking from his breast the beautiful
white rose. He turned round and kissed it. The monster

(41:25):
had a rose of its own, petal for petal the same.
It kissed it with like kisses, and pressed it to
its heart with horrible gestures. When the truth dawned upon him,
he gave a wild cry of despair and fell sobbing
to the ground. So it was he who was misshapen
and hunchbacked, fouled to look at, and grotesque. He himself

(41:48):
was the monster. And it was at him that all
his children had been laughing, And a little princess, who
he had fought loved him, She too had been merely
mocking at his ugliness and making merry over his twisted limbs.
Why had they not left him in the forest? But
there was no mirror to tell him how loavesome he was.

(42:09):
Why had his father not killed him rather than sell
him to his shame? The hot tears poured down his cheeks,
and he tore a white rose to pieces. The sprawling
monster did the same, and scattered the faint petals in
the air. It groveled on the ground, and when he
looked at it, it watched him with a face drawn

(42:30):
with pain. He crept away, lest he should see it,
and covered his eyes with his hands. He crawled, like
some wounded thing into the shadow and lay there moaning.
And at that moment the Infanta herself came in with
her companions through the open window, And when they saw

(42:51):
the ugly little dwarf lying on the ground and beating
the floor with his clenched hands in the most fantastic
and exaggerated manner, they went off into shouts of happy laughter,
and stood all round him and watched. His dancing was funny,
said the infant, but his acting as funny as still. Indeed,

(43:11):
he is almost as good as their puppets, only of
course not quite so natural. And she fluttered her big
fan and applauded. The little dwarf never looked up, and
his sobs grew fainter and fainter, and suddenly he gave
a curious gasp and clutched his side, And then he

(43:32):
fell back again and lay quite still. That is capital,
said the Infanta, after a pause. But now you must
dance for me, yes, cried all the children. You must
get up and dance, for you are as clever as
the barbary apes, and much more ridiculous. But the little
dwarf made no answer, and the Infanter stamped her foot

(43:55):
and called out to her uncle, who was walking on
the terrace with the Chamberlain, reading some dispatches that had
just arrived from Mexico, where the Holy Office had recently
been established. My funny little dwarf is sulking, she cried.
You must wake him up and tell him to dance
for me. They smiled at each other and sauntered in,
and Don Pedro stooped down and slapped the dwarf on

(44:18):
the cheek with his embroidered glove. You must dance, he said,
But de monst you must dance. The Infanter of Spain
and the Indies wishes to be amused. But the little
dwarf never moved. A whipping master should be sent for,
said Don Pedro wearily, and he went back to the terrace.

(44:40):
But the Chamberlain looked grave, and he knelt beside the
little dwarf and put his hand upon his heart, and
after a few moments he shrugged his shoulders and rose up, and,
having made a low bow to the Infanta, he said,
Mi Bella, princessa, your funny little dwarf will never dance again.
It is pity, for he is so ugly that he

(45:02):
might have made the king smile. But why will he
not dance again, asked the Infanta, laughing because his heart
is broken, answered the Chamberlain, and the infanter frowned, and
her dainty rose leaved lips cold in pretty disdain for
the future. Let those who come to play with me

(45:22):
have no hearts, she cried, and she ran out into
the garden. End of the birthday of the Infanta