The Necklace of Princess Fiorimonde: And Other Stories by Mary De Morgan

Author:Mary De Morgan
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Fairy tales, Children's stories
Publisher: Standard Ebooks
Published: 2026-02-18T03:01:19+00:00

and it will fly to her side, and you will see it no more; and now be­gone.”

Mi­chael seized the heart with a cry of joy and ex­ulta­tion, and then turned and fled from the room through an open iron door, and passed through the pas­sages, no longer softly car­peted and hung with silk, but dreary and bare, made of cold stone, down which his foot­steps echoed and clashed.

He hur­ried from the castle as quickly as might be, and once out­side did not stop to look for the old man or the mon­ster, but swam the moat, and went straight to where his boat lay moored as he had left it, nearly sev­en years be­fore, and nev­er paused till he had rowed so far that the gray castle and the shore had al­most passed from view. At last he came again to the shore where he had bought his boat of the fish­er­men, and here he went on land, and star­ted to walk till he had reached Joan’s coun­try, and her fath­er’s castle.

He had no money, and his clothes were rags, his hair was thin and gray, and his shoulders bent. He looked like a poor beg­gar, and he had to beg food as he went, or he would have been starved. Still, he was ready to cry for joy, be­cause he took with him the little soft heart he had gone so far to find.

He trudged on both day and night, mak­ing great haste, for he knew that the sev­en years were al­most gone, and he was afraid lest already he might be too late, and find that Joan had mar­ried someone else. At last, after many weary miles, he reached her coun­try, and drew near to the palace where she lived, and here he found that the people were all dec­or­at­ing their houses, and mak­ing pre­par­a­tions as if for some great fest­iv­al.

He stopped and begged for food from a wo­man who stood by a cot­tage door, and when she had giv­en him some bread, as he ate it he asked her to tell him what went on in the coun­try, and why there was such re­joicing.

“It is for the mar­riage of the King’s daugh­ter Joan,” said the wo­man; “To­mor­row she is to be mar­ried to old King Lam­bert, and the wed­ding will be very grand, but none of the coun­try folk like it, for he is old and ugly, and they say he does not love her at all, but only mar­ries her that he may be king of this coun­try as well as his own. The Queen is in sore dis­tress about it, and for sev­en years re­fused her con­sent; but they will be over to­mor­row, and so they will be wed, and the guests are already be­gin­ning to ar­rive at the palace, and each one brings some splen­did gift.”

“I will be a guest at that wed­ding,” cried Mi­chael; “And I bring the best gift of all for the bride;” and he hur­ried on again, not heed­ing the wo­man’s scorn and laughter.

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