SALOME

PEOPLE

Herod Antipas, Tetrarch of Judea IOKANAAN the prophet THE YOUNG SYRIAN, Captain of the Guard TIGELLINUS, a young Roman CAPPADOCIAN A A NUBIAN FIRST SOLDIER SECOND SOLDIER THE PAGE OF HERODIAS JEWS, the Nazarenes, etc.. A SLAVE Naaman, the executioner

HERODIAS, wife of the Tetrarch SALOME, daughter of Herodias THE SLAVES OF SALOME

SCENE

[A great terrace in Herod's palace overlooking the banqueting hall. Some soldiers are leaning on the balcony. On the right there is a huge staircase. On the left, basically, an old cistern surrounded by a wall of green bronze. Moonlight.]

THE YOUNG SYRIAN. As beautiful is the Princess Salome tonight!

THE PAGE OF HERODIAS. Look at the moon. The moon looks very strange. Looks like a woman rising from a tomb. She looks like a dead woman. Looks like she was looking for dead.

THE YOUNG SYRIAN. She looks very strange. It looks like a little princess who wears a yellow veil, and whose feet are of silver. It looks like a princess who has feet like little white doves. . . Looks like she was dancing.

THE PAGE OF HERODIAS. It's like a dead woman. She moves very slowly. [Noise in the banqueting hall.]

FIRST SOLDIER. What an uproar! Who are those wild beasts howling?

SECOND SOLDIER. Jews. They are always so. It is they talk about their religion.

FIRST SOLDIER. Why do they dispute about their religion?

SECOND SOLDIER. I do not know. They always do. . . The Pharisees say that there are angels, and the Sadducees declare that angels do not exist.

FIRST SOLDIER. I think it is ridiculous to dispute about such things.

THE YOUNG SYRIAN. As beautiful is the Princess Salome tonight!

THE PAGE OF HERODIAS. You are always looking. You look too much. Do not look at people that way. . . It may happen.

THE YOUNG SYRIAN. She is very beautiful tonight.

FIRST SOLDIER. The Tetrarch has a sombre look.

SECOND SOLDIER. Yes, it looks dark.

FIRST SOLDIER. He looks at something.

SECOND SOLDIER. He looks at someone.

FIRST SOLDIER. Who does he look?

SECOND SOLDIER. I do not know.

THE YOUNG SYRIAN. As the princess is pale! I never saw her so pale. It is like the shadow of a white rose in a silver mirror

THE PAGE OF HERODIAS. Do not watch it. You look too much!

FIRST SOLDIER. Herodias has filled the cup of the Tetrarch.

THE CAPPADOCIAN. This is the Queen Herodias, she who wears a black miter sewed with pearls, and whose hair is powdered with blue?

FIRST SOLDIER. Yes, it is Herodias. This is the Tetrarch's wife.

SECOND SOLDIER. The Tetrarch is very fond of wine. He has wine of three sorts. One that comes from the island of Samothrace, and is purple like the cloak of Caesar.

THE CAPPADOCIAN. I've never seen Caesar.

SECOND SOLDIER. Another that comes from the town of Cyprus, which is yellow like gold.

THE CAPPADOCIAN. I love gold.

SECOND SOLDIER. And the third is a Sicilian wine. That wine is as red as blood.

THE NUBIAN. The gods of my country very fond of blood. Twice a year we sacrifice young men and maidens: fifty young men and a hundred maidens. But it seems that we never give them enough because they are very harsh to

us.

THE CAPPADOCIAN. In my country there are no gods left, the Romans drove them out. There are some who say they took refuge in the mountains, but I do not think so. I spent three nights on the mountains seeking them everywhere. I have not found. Finally, I called them by name and they have not appeared. I think they are dead.

FIRST SOLDIER. The Jews worship a God we can not see.

THE CAPPADOCIAN. I can not understand this.

FIRST SOLDIER. Finally, they believe in things that can not see.

THE CAPPADOCIAN. It seems absolutely ridiculous.

THE VOICE OF IOKANAAN. After me shall come another mightier than me. I am not worthy to even untie his sandals. When cometh the solitary places shall be glad. They shall blossom like the lily. The eyes of the blind shall see the day, and ears of the deaf shall be opened. . . The newborn child shall put his hand on the dragon's lair, and lead the lions by their manes.

SECOND SOLDIER. Make him be silent. He is always saying ridiculous things.

FIRST SOLDIER. But no, this is a holy man. It is also very soft. Every day I feed him. He thanks me.

THE CAPPADOCIAN. Who is it?

FIRST SOLDIER. He is a prophet.

THE CAPPADOCIAN. What is his name?

FIRST SOLDIER. Iokanaan.

THE CAPPADOCIAN. Where is he?

FIRST SOLDIER. Desert, where he ate locusts and wild honey. He was dressed in camel hair, and around his waist he wore a leather belt. He was very shy. A large crowd followed. He even had disciples.

THE CAPPADOCIAN. What does he talk?

FIRST SOLDIER. We never know. Sometimes he says terrible things, but it is impossible to understand.

THE CAPPADOCIAN. Can we see?

FIRST SOLDIER. No. The Tetrarch does not allow it.

THE YOUNG SYRIAN. The Princess has hidden her face behind her fan! Her little white hands are fluttering like doves that fly to their dove. They look like white butterflies. They are quite like white butterflies.

THE PAGE OF HERODIAS. But what is that to you? Why watch it? Do not watch it. . . It may happen.

THE CAPPADOCIAN [Pointing to the cistern] What a strange prison!

SECOND SOLDIER. This is an old cistern.

THE CAPPADOCIAN. An old cistern! it must be very unhealthy.

SECOND SOLDIER. But no. For example, the Tetrarch's brother, his elder brother, the first husband of Herodias the Queen, was imprisoned there for twelve years. It is not death. At the end we had to strangle her.

THE CAPPADOCIAN. Strangled? Who dared to do that?

SECOND SOLDIER [Pointing to the Executioner, a huge negro] That man, Naaman.

THE CAPPADOCIAN. He had no fear?

SECOND SOLDIER. But no. The Tetrarch sent him the ring.

THE CAPPADOCIAN. What ring?

SECOND SOLDIER. The ring of death. Thus, it has not been afraid.

THE CAPPADOCIAN. However, it is terrible thing to strangle a king.

FIRST SOLDIER. Why? The Kings have but one neck, like other men.

THE CAPPADOCIAN. I think it's terrible.

THE YOUNG SYRIAN. But the Princess is getting up! She leaves the table! She looks very troubled. Ah! she is coming here. Yes, she comes to us. How pale she is. I never saw her so pale. . .

THE PAGE OF HERODIAS. Do not look. Please do not watch it.

THE YOUNG SYRIAN. It is like a dove that has strayed. . . It is like a narcissus trembling in the wind. . . It looks like a silver flower. [Between Salome.]

SALOME. I will not stay. I can not have stayed. Why does the Tetrarch look at me he still with his mole's eyes under his shaking eyelids? . . . It is strange that the husband of my mother looks at me like that. I do not know what that means. . . In fact, if I know.

THE YOUNG SYRIAN. You have left the feast, Princess?

SALOME. As the air here! Finally, here you breathe! Within there are Jews from Jerusalem who are tearing at their foolish ceremonies, and barbarians who drink and spill their wine on the pavement, and Greeks from Smyrna with painted eyes and painted cheeks, and their hair curled into spirals, and Egyptians silent and subtle, with long nails of jade and russet cloaks, and Romans with their brutality, their heaviness, their big words. Ah! I loathe the Romans! These are common, and they give themselves the airs of noble lords.

THE YOUNG SYRIAN. Do not you want to sit down, princess?

THE PAGE OF HERODIAS. Why talk to him? Why watch it? . . . Oh! there would be a misfortune.

SALOME. It's good to see the moon! It resembles a small coin. It looks like a tiny silver flower. She is cold and chaste. . . I'm sure she is a virgin. She has the beauty of a virgin. . . Yes, she is a virgin. She has never soiled. She was never given to men, like the other goddesses.

THE VOICE OF IOKANAAN. He came to the Lord! He came, the son of Man. The centaurs have hidden themselves in the rivers and the nymphs have left the rivers and lying beneath the leaves in the forests.

SALOME. Who cried out?

SECOND SOLDIER. The prophet, Princess.

SALOME. Ah! the prophet. One of whom the Tetrarch is afraid?

SECOND SOLDIER. We know nothing of that, Princess. This is the prophet Jokanaan.

THE YOUNG SYRIAN. Would you like me to your litter, Princess? The weather is beautiful in the garden.

SALOME. He says terrible things about my mother, is not it?

SECOND SOLDIER. We never understand what he says, Princess.

SALOME. Yes, he says terrible things about her.

A SLAVE. Princess, the Tetrarch prays you to return to the feast.

SALOME. I will not return.

THE YOUNG SYRIAN. Pardon me, Princess, but if you return not some misfortune may happen there.

SALOME. Is he an old man, the prophet?

THE YOUNG SYRIAN. Princess, it were better to return. Let me take you home.

SALOME. The prophet. . . Is he an old man?

FIRST SOLDIER. No, princess, this is a very young man.

SECOND SOLDIER. We do not know. There are some who say it is Elijah?

SALOME. Who is Elijah?

SECOND SOLDIER. An ancient prophet of this country, princess.

A SLAVE. What answer should I give the Tetrarch from the Princess?

THE VOICE OF IOKANAAN. Rejoice not, O land of Palestine, because the rod of him that smote thee is broken. For from the seed of the serpent shall come a basilisk, and that which is born devour the birds.

SALOME. What a strange voice! I would speak with him.

FIRST SOLDIER. I fear it is impossible, Princess. The Tetrarch does not want to be spoken. It has even forbidden the high priest to talk to him.

SALOME. I want to talk to him.

FIRST SOLDIER. It is impossible, Princess.

SALOME. I want to.

THE YOUNG SYRIAN. Indeed, Princess, it were better to return to the feast.

SALOME. Bring out the prophet.

FIRST SOLDIER. We dare not, princess.

SALOME [Approaching the cistern and looking down] It's dark in there! It must be terrible to be in so black a hole! This is like a tomb. . . [The soldiers] You did not hear? Take him out. I want to see.

SECOND SOLDIER. I pray you, princess, not to require this of us.

SALOME. You make me wait.

FIRST SOLDIER. Princess, our lives belong to you, but we can not do what you ask us. . . Finally, it is not us that you should ask.

SALOME [Looking at the young Syrian] Ah!

THE PAGE OF HERODIAS. Oh! what's going to happen? I'm sure something terrible will happen.

SALOME [Approaching the young Syrian] Do this for me, is it not, Narraboth? Do this for me? I've always been kind to you. Was it not you do this for me? I would but look, this strange prophet. So much has been talked about him. Often I have heard the Tetrarch talk of him. I think he is afraid of him, the Tetrarch. I'm sure he is afraid of him. . . Are you also Narraboth, do you also have fear?

THE YOUNG SYRIAN. I'm not afraid of him, princess. I'm not afraid of anyone. But the Tetrarch has formally forbidden that lifts the cover of this well.

SALOME. Do this for me, Narraboth, and tomorrow when I pass in my litter beneath the gateway of the idol-sellers I will let fall a little flower for you, a little green flower.

THE YOUNG SYRIAN. Princess, I can not, I can not.

SALOME [smiling] Do this for me, Narraboth. You know you will do this for me. And tomorrow when I pass in my litter by the bridge of the idol-buyers, I will look through the muslin veils, I will look, Narraboth, I will smile, perhaps. Look at me, Narraboth. Look at me. Ah! you know you'll do what I ask. You well know, is not it? . . . I know.

THE YOUNG SYRIAN [Signing to the third soldier] Bring out the prophet. . . Princess Salome desires to see.

SALOME. Ah!

THE PAGE OF HERODIAS. Oh! as the moon looks strange! Like the hand of a dead woman who tries to cover herself with a shroud.

THE YOUNG SYRIAN. She looks very strange. Looks like a little princess who has amber eyes. Through the clouds of muslin she is smiling like a little princess.

[The prophet comes out of the tank. Salome looks at him and back.]

IOKANAAN. Where is he whose cup of abominations is now full? Where is he who in a robe of silver shall one day die before all the people? Tell him to come that he may hear the voice of him who cried in the waste and in the palaces of kings.

SALOME. Of which he speaks?

THE YOUNG SYRIAN. You never know, Princess.

IOKANAAN. Where is she who saw the men painted on the walls, images of the Chaldeans painted with colors, and gave herself to the lust of her eyes, and sent ambassadors into Chaldea?

SALOME. It's my mother talking about it.

THE YOUNG SYRIAN. But no, Princess.

SALOME. If it's my mother.

IOKANAAN. Where is she who has abandoned the Captains of Assyria, who have shoulder belts on their loins, and on their heads crowns of many colors? Where is she who gave herself to the young men of Egypt who are clothed in fine linen and hyacinth, whose shields are of gold and silver helmets, and who have great bodies? Tell him to get up from the bed of her abominations, from his bed incestuous, that she may hear the words of one who prepares the way of the Lord that they should repent of his sins. Though she will not repent, but will remain in their abominations, called him to come, for the Lord's scourge in the hand.

SALOME. But it is terrible, very terrible.

THE YOUNG SYRIAN. Do not stay here, Princess, I beg you.

SALOME. This is his eyes above that are terrible. They look like black holes burned by torches in a tapestry of Tyre. Looks like the black caverns where the dragons, the black caverns of Egypt where dragons make their lairs. Looks like black lakes troubled by fantastic moons. . . Do you think he will speak again?

THE YOUNG SYRIAN. Do not stay here, Princess! Please do not stay here.

SALOME. As wasted he is! it looks like a thin ivory statue. It looks like a silver image. I am sure he is chaste, as the moon. It looks like a ray of money. The flesh should be very cold, like ivory. . . I would look closely.

THE YOUNG SYRIAN. No, no, Princess!

SALOME. I must look at him closer.

THE YOUNG SYRIAN. Princess! Princess!

IOKANAAN. Who is this woman looking at me? I do not want her looking at me. Why look at me she with her golden eyes, under her gilded eyelids? I do not know who it is. I do not know. Tell him to go away. This is not to her that I am talking about.

SALOME. I am Salome, daughter of Herodias, Princess of Judea.

IOKANAAN. Back! Daughter of Babylon! Do not approach the Lord's chosen. Thy mother hath filled the earth with the wine of her iniquities, and the cry of her sinning hath come to the ears of God.

SALOME. Speak again, Iokanaan. Your voice intoxicates me.

THE YOUNG SYRIAN. Princess! Princess! Princess!

SALOME. Speak again. Speak again, Iokanaan, and tell me what I must do.

IOKANAAN. Do not approach me, daughter of Sodom, but cover your face with a veil, and scatter ashes on your head and go into the desert looking for the son of Man.

SALOME. Who is he, the son of Man? Is it as beautiful as thou at me?

IOKANAAN. Back! Back! I hear in the palace the beating of wings of the angel of death.

THE YOUNG SYRIAN. Princess, I beseech thee to go!

IOKANAAN. Angel of the Lord God, what dost thou here with thy sword? Whom do you seek in this filthy house? . . . The day of him who shall die in silver dress did not come

SALOME. Iokanaan.

IOKANAAN. Who is speaking?

SALOME. Iokanaan! I'm in love with your body. Thy body is white like the lilies of a field that the mower hath never mowed. Thy body is white like the snows that lie on the mountains, like the snows that lie on the Judean hills, and down into the valleys. The roses in the garden of the Queen of Arabia are not so white as thy body. Neither the roses in the garden of the Queen of Arabia, nor the feet of the dawn who stomp on the leaves, nor the breast of the moon when she lies on the breast of the sea. . . There is nothing in the world so white as thy-corps. Let me touch your body!

IOKANAAN. Back, daughter of Babylon! This is the woman came evil into the world. Do not talk to me. I do not wanna listen. I only listen to the words of the Lord God.

SALOME. Thy body is hideous. It is like the body of a leper. It is like a plastered wall where vipers have crawled like a plastered wall where the scorpions have made their nest. It is like a whited sepulcher, and that is full of disgusting things. It is horrible, thy body is horrible! . . . It is of thy hair that I am, Iokanaan. Your hair is like clusters of grapes, bunches of black grapes that hang from the vines of Edom in the land of the Edomites. Your hair is like the cedars of Lebanon, like the great cedars of Lebanon that give their shade to the lions and robbers who would hide during the day. The long dark nights, the nights when the moon does not show where the stars are afraid, are not as black. The silence that dwells in the forest is not as black. There is nothing in the world so black as thy hair. . . Let me touch your hair.

IOKANAAN. Back, daughter of Sodom! Do not touch me. Do not desecrate the temple of the Lord God.

SALOME. Thy hair is horrible. They are covered with mud and dust. Looks like a crown of thorns placed on thy head. Looks like a knot of serpents coiled round thy neck. I do not like your hair. . . It is thy mouth that I desire, Iokanaan. Your mouth is like a band of scarlet on a tower of ivory. It is like a pomegranate cut with a knife of ivory. The pomegranate flowers that blossom in the gardens of Tyre, and are redder than roses, are not so red. The red blasts of trumpets that herald the arrival of kings, and make afraid the enemy are not so red. Thy mouth is redder than the feet of those who tread the wine in the presses. It is redder than the feet of the doves who inhabit the temples and are fed by the priests. It is redder than the feet of him who cometh from a forest where he killed a lion, and seen gilded tigers. Your mouth is like a branch of coral that fishers have found in the twilight of the sea and they keep for the kings. . . ! It is like the vermilion that the Moabites find in the mines of Moab, and the kings take from them. It is like the bow of the Persian king who is painted with vermilion, and is tipped with coral. There is nothing in the world so red as thy mouth. . . let me kiss thy mouth.

IOKANAAN. Ever! daughter of Babylon! Daughter of Sodom! ever.

SALOME. I will kiss thy mouth, Iokanaan. I will kiss thy mouth.

THE YOUNG SYRIAN. Princess, thou who art like a bundle of myrrh, thou who art the dove of all doves, look not at this man, not his! Do not say such things. I can not endure. . . Princess, do not say these things.

SALOME. I will kiss thy mouth, Iokanaan.

THE YOUNG SYRIAN. Ah! [He kills himself and falls between Salome and Jokanaan.]

THE PAGE OF HERODIAS. The young Syrian has slain himself! The young captain has slain himself! He has slain himself who was my friend! I gave him a small box of perfumes and ear-rings wrought in silver, and now he killed

himself! Ah! did he not say that some misfortune was about to happen? . . . I predicted it myself and it came ut. I knew the moon was seeking a death, but I did not know it was him she wanted. Ah! why did I not hid the moon? If I had hidden in a cavern she would not have seen.

FIRST SOLDIER. Princess, the young captain has slain himself.

SALOME. Let me kiss thy mouth, Iokanaan.

IOKANAAN. Do you not fear, daughter of Herodias? Do not I said I had heard in the palace the beating of wings of the angel of death, and the angel is not he come?

SALOME. Let me kiss thy mouth.

IOKANAAN. Daughter of adultery, there is one who can save you. This is the one I told you about. Go get it. It is in a boat on the Sea of Galilee, and he speaks to his disciples. Kneel beside the sea, and call it by name. When he comes toward you, and it comes to all who call, bow down at his feet and ask forgiveness of your sins.

SALOME. Let me kiss thy mouth.

IOKANAAN. Be cursed, daughter of an incestuous mother, be damned.

SALOME. I will kiss thy mouth, Iokanaan.

IOKANAAN. I do not want to watch you. I do not look at you. You are damned, Salome, thou art damned. [He goes into the tank.]

SALOME. I will kiss thy mouth, Iokanaan, I will kiss thy mouth.

FIRST SOLDIER. We must bear away the body to another. The Tetrarch does not see dead bodies, save the bodies of those he killed himself.

THE PAGE OF HERODIAS. He was my brother, and closer than a brother. I gave her a small box full of perfumes, and a ring of agate that he wore always on hand. In the evening we walked along the river and among the almond trees and he told me things of his country. He always spoke very low. The sound of his voice was like the sound of the flute a flute player. Also he had much to look at himself in the river. I made him blame for that.

SECOND SOLDIER. You're right, he must hide the body. It should not be that The Tetrarch.

FIRST SOLDIER. The Tetrarch will not come here. He never comes on the terrace. He is too afraid of the prophet.

[Enter Herod, Herodias and the whole court.]

HEROD. Where is Salome? Where is the princess? Why is she not return to the banquet as I had ordered it? ah! is!

HERODIAS. Do not watch it. You are always looking!

HEROD. The moon has a strange look tonight. Is it not that the moon looks very strange? Looks like a mad woman, a woman who is seeking everywhere for lovers. She is naked too. She is naked. The clouds are seeking to clothe her, but she does not want. She reels through the clouds like a drunken woman. . . I'm sure she is looking for lovers. . . Is she not reel like a drunken woman? It looks like a mad woman, is it not?

HERODIAS. No. The moon is like the moon, that's all. . . Let's go You have nothing to do here.

HEROD. I will stay! Manasseh, lay carpets there. Light torches. Bring forth the ivory tables, and tables of jasper. The air here is delicious. I will drink more wine with my guests. Ambassadors to Caesar must show all honors.

HERODIAS. This is not because of them that you remain.

HEROD. Yes, air is delicious. Come, Herodias, our guests await us. Ah! I slipped! I slipped in blood! This is a bad omen. This is a very bad omen. Why is there blood here? . . . And the corpse? What does this body here? Do you think I am like the king of Egypt who never gives a feast without showing its guests a corpse? Finally, who is it? I will not watch it.

FIRST SOLDIER. This is our captain, sire. It is the young Syrian whom you made captain just three days ago.

HEROD. I have not given any orders to kill him.

SECOND SOLDIER. He killed himself, Lord.

HEROD. Why? I made him captain!

SECOND SOLDIER. We do not know, Lord. But he killed himself.

HEROD. It seems strange to me. I thought that there was the Roman philosophers who slew themselves. Is it not true, Tigellinus, that philosophers at Rome slay themselves?

TIGELLINUS. There are some who slay themselves, sire. They are the Stoics. They are very rude people. Finally, it is ridiculous people. I find them very ridiculous.

HEROD. So do I. It is ridiculous to kill.

TIGELLINUS. It laughs at them in Rome. The Emperor has written a satire against them. It is recited everywhere.

HEROD. Ah! He has written a satire against them? Caesar is wonderful. He can do anything. . . It is strange that he was killed, the young Syrian. I regret it. Yes, I am very sorry. For it was beautiful. He was even very fair. He had very languorous eyes. I remember that I saw looked languorously at Salome. Indeed, I found he had too much at her.

HERODIAS. There are others who look too much.

HEROD. His father was king. I have driven from his kingdom. And his mother was a queen, you made a slave Herodias. So he was here as a guest. It was because of this that I made him my captain. I am sorry he is dead. . . Finally, why have you left the body here? It must be taken elsewhere. I do not want to see. . . Take it. . . [They take away the corpse.] It's cold here. It is windy here. Is there not a wind?

HERODIAS. But no. There is no wind.

HEROD. But if there is wind. . . And I hear something in the air like a flutter, like a beating of giant wings. Do not you hear?

HERODIAS. I hear nothing.

HEROD. I no longer hear myself. But I heard it. It was probably the wind. It happened. But no, I can still hear. Do not you hear? This is quite a flutter.

HERODIAS. I tell you there is nothing. You are sick. Let's go

HEROD. I'm not sick. This is your daughter who is ill. She looks very ill, your daughter. I never saw her so pale.

HERODIAS. I told you not to watch it.

HEROD. Pour the wine. [Wine is brought.] Salome, come drink a little wine with me. I have here a wine that is exquisite. This is Caesar himself who sent it to me. Dip into it thy little red lips and then I drain the cup.

SALOME. I am not thirsty, Tetrarch.

HEROD. You hear how she answers me, your daughter.

HERODIAS. I think she is right. Why do you always watch?

HEROD. Bring fruit. [Fruits are brought.] Salome, come and eat fruits with me. I love to see in a fruit the mark of thy little teeth. Bite but a little piece of this fruit, and then I eat what is left.

SALOME. I'm not hungry, Tetrarch.

HEROD [to Herodias] You see how you have brought up your daughter.

HERODIAS. My daughter and I come of a royal race. As for you, your grandfather was a camel! Also, he was a thief!

HEROD. You lie!

HERODIAS. You know it's true.

HEROD. Salome, come sit by me. I will give you the throne of thy mother.

SALOME. I'm not tired, Tetrarch.

HERODIAS. You see what she thinks of you.

HEROD. Bring. . . What do I want? I do not know. Ah! Ah! I remember. . .

THE VOICE OF IOKANAAN. This is the time! What I predicted has come, saith the Lord God. The day that I had spoken.

HERODIAS. Make him be silent. I do not wanna hear her voice. This man ever hurling insults against me.

HEROD. He said nothing against you. Also, this is a very great prophet.

HERODIAS. I do not believe in prophets. Is it a man can say what will happen? Nobody knows. Also, he always insults me. But I think you are afraid of him. . . Finally, I know you are afraid of him.

HEROD. I'm not afraid of him. I'm not afraid of anyone.

HERODIAS. If you are afraid of him. If you were not afraid of him, why not deliver it to the Jews who for six months you ask?

A JEW. Indeed, Lord, it would be better if we deliver it.

HEROD. This enough. I've already given you my answer. I will not give him up. He is a man who has seen God.

A JEW. That is impossible. Nobody has seen God since the prophet Elijah. He is the last man who saw God. By this time, God does not show. He hides. And therefore there are great evils in the country.

ANOTHER JEW. Finally, it is unclear if the prophet Elijah did indeed see God. It was rather the shadow of God that he saw.

A THIRD JEW. God never hides. He is always and in everything. God is in evil as in good.

A FOURTH JEW. Do not say that. This is a very dangerous idea. This is an idea that comes from Alexandria, where they teach Greek philosophy. And the Greeks are Gentiles. They are not even circumcised.

A FIFTH JEW. We can not know how God works His ways are very mysterious. Perhaps what we call evil are good, and what we call good are evil. We can know nothing. The need is to submit to all. God is very strong. It breaks at the same time the weak and strong. He has no concern to anyone.

FIRST JEW. It is true that. God is terrible. He breaks the weak and strong as men break corn in a mortar. But this man has seen God. Nobody has seen

God since the prophet Elijah.

HERODIAS. Make them be silent. They bore me

HEROD. But I heard qu'Iokanaan itself is your prophet Elijah.

A JEW. That can not. Since the days of Elijah there are over three hundred years.

HEROD. There are some who say it is the prophet Elijah.

A NAZARENE. But, I'm sure this is the prophet Elijah.

A JEW. But no, this is not the prophet Elijah.

THE VOICE OF IOKANAAN. The day has come, the Lord's day, and I hear upon the mountains the feet of him who is the Saviour of the world.

HEROD. What does this mean? Savior of the world?

TIGELLINUS. It is a title that takes Caesar.

HEROD. But Caesar is not coming into Judaea. Yesterday I received letters from Rome. No one told me anything about that. And you, Tigellinus, who have been in Rome during the winter, you have not heard of this?

TIGELLINUS. Indeed, Lord, I have not heard. I explain the title. This is one of the titles of Caesar.

HEROD. It can not come, Caesar. It is gout. They say he has feet of an elephant. Also there are reasons of State. He who leaves Rome loses Rome. He will not come. But, finally, is the master, Caesar. It will come if he wants. But I do not think he comes.

FIRST NAZARENE. This is not of Caesar that the prophet spoke, Lord.

HEROD. No Caesar?

FIRST NAZARENE. No, Lord.

HEROD. From whom did he speak?

FIRST NAZARENE. The Messiah has come.

A JEW. The Messiah has not come.

FIRST NAZARENE. He came, and it works miracles everywhere.

HERODIAS. Oh! Oh! miracles. I do not believe in miracles. I saw too. [To the Page.] My range.

FIRST NAZARENE. This man of miracles. Thus, on the occasion of a marriage which took place in a small town in Galilee, a town of some importance, He changed water into wine. People who were there have told me. Also He healed two lepers that were seated before the Gate of Capernaum simply by touching them.

SECOND NAZARENE. No, it was two blind men that He healed at Capernaum.

FIRST NAZARENE. No, they were lepers. But He hath healed blind people also, and we have seen on a mountain talking with angels.

A Sadducee. The angels do not exist.

A PHARISEE. Angels exist, but I do not think this man has talked with them.

FIRST NAZARENE. He was seen by a crowd of people talking with angels.

A Sadducee. Not with angels.

HERODIAS. As they annoy me, these men! They are beasts. They are altogether ridiculous. [To the Page.] Hey! Well, my range. [The Page gives her the fan.] You seem to dream. Do not dream. The dreamers are sick. [She strikes the Page with her fan.]

SECOND NAZARENE. Also there is the miracle of the daughter of Jairus.

FIRST NAZARENE. But yes, it is very certain that. We can not deny it.

HERODIAS. These people are crazy. They too looked at the moon. Tell them to shut up.

HEROD. What is that this miracle of the daughter of Jairus?

FIRST NAZARENE. The daughter of Jairus was dead. He resurrected.

HEROD. He raises the dead?

FIRST NAZARENE. Yes, Lord. He raises the dead.

HEROD. I do not want him to do that. I forbid him to do that. I permit no man to raise the dead. We must look for this man and tell him that I forbid Him to raise the dead. Where is he now, this man?

SECOND NAZARENE. It is everywhere, Lord, but it is very difficult to find.

FIRST NAZARENE. They say he is in Samaria.

A JEW. It is clear that this is the Messiah, he is in Samaria. This is not to the Samaritans that Messias shall come. The Samaritans are accursed. They bring no offerings to the Temple.

SECOND NAZARENE. He left Samaria a few days. I believe that this time it is in the vicinity of Jerusalem.

FIRST NAZARENE. But no, it's not there. I have just come from Jerusalem. It has not heard from him for two months.

HEROD. Finally, it does not matter! But we must find it and tell him from me that I forbid Him to raise the dead. To change water into wine, healing lepers and the blind. . . he can do all things if He will. I have nothing to say against it. Indeed, I find to heal a leper is a good deed. But I do not allow it raises the dead. . . It would be terrible if the dead return.

THE VOICE OF IOKANAAN. Ah! the shameless! the prostitute! Ah! the

daughter of Babylon with her golden eyes and her gilded eyelids! Thus says the Lord God. Bring it against a multitude of men. Let the people take stones and stone her. . .

HERODIAS. Make it stop!

THE VOICE OF IOKANAAN. Let the captains of the hosts pierce her with their swords, let them crush her beneath their shields.

HERODIAS. But it is infamous.

THE VOICE OF IOKANAAN. Thus I will wipe out all wickedness from the earth, and all women shall learn not to follow the abominations of that.

HERODIAS. You hear what he says against me? You insult your wife leave?

HEROD. But he did not say your name.

HERODIAS. What does it matter? You know it's me he seeks to revile. And I am your wife, does not it?

HEROD. Yes, dear and noble Herodias, you are my wife, and before that you were the wife of my brother.

HERODIAS. It is you who didst snatch me from his arms.

HEROD. Indeed, I was the strongest. . . but do not talk about it. I do not want to talk about that. This is because of this that the prophet said the terrible words. Perhaps because of this he will befall. Do not talk about it. . . Noble

Herodias, we are mindful of our guests. Pour me a drink, my beloved. Fill with wine the great goblets of silver and the great goblets of glass. I will drink to Caesar. There are Romans here, we must drink to Caesar.

ALL. Caesar! Caesar!

HEROD. You do not notice as your daughter is pale.

HERODIAS. What do you feel she be pale or not?

HEROD. I never saw her so pale.

HERODIAS. Do not watch it.

THE VOICE OF IOKANAAN. In that day the sun shall become black as sackcloth of hair, and the moon become like blood, and the stars of heaven shall fall upon the earth like green figs falling from a tree, and the kings of the earth shall be afraid .

HERODIAS. Ah! Ah! I would like to see that day which he speaks, when the moon become like blood and when the stars fall upon the earth like unripe figs. This prophet talks like a drunken man. . . But I can not stand the sound of his voice. I hate his voice. Command him to be silent.

HEROD. But no. I do not understand what he said, but it may be an omen.

HERODIAS. I do not believe in omens. He speaks like a drunken man.

HEROD. Maybe he is drunk with the wine of God!

HERODIAS. What wine is that, the wine of God? From what vineyards is it? In what wine-press may one find it?

HEROD. [It Salome's eyes.] Tigellinus, when you were in Rome recently, is that the Emperor speak with you about. . .?

TIGELLINUS. About what, Lord?

HEROD. About what? Ah! I asked you a question, is it not? I forgot what I wanted to know.

HERODIAS. You look again at my daughter. Do not watch it. I have already said that.

HEROD. You say nothing else.

HERODIAS. I repeat.

HEROD. And restoration of the temple which has been talked about so much? Are we going to do something? They say, is it not that the veil of the sanctuary has disappeared?

HERODIAS. It was you who took it. You speak in rhyme. I do not want to stay here. Let's go.

HEROD. Salome, dance for me.

HERODIAS. I do not want her to dance.

SALOME. I have no desire to dance, Tetrarch.

HEROD. Salome, daughter of Herodias, dance for me.

HERODIAS. Leave her alone.

HEROD. I command you to dance, Salome.

SALOME. I will not dance, Tetrarch.

HERODIAS [laughing] That's how she obeys you!

HEROD. What is it that makes me dance or not? This does not bother me. I'm happy tonight. I am very pleased. I have never been so happy.

FIRST SOLDIER. It looks dark, the Tetrarch. Is he not a sombre look?

SECOND SOLDIER. He looks dark.

HEROD. Why should I not happy? Caesar, who is the master of the world, who is lord of all, loves me. He just sent me gifts of great value. So he promised me to summon to Rome the King of Cappadocia who is mine enemy. Perhaps in Rome he will crucify. He can do whatever he wants, Caesar. Finally, he is the master. So you see, I have the right to be happy. There is nothing in the world that can mar my happiness.

THE VOICE OF IOKANAAN. He will sit upon his throne. It shall be clothed in purple and scarlet. In his hand he shall bear a golden cup full of his

blasphemies. And the angel of the Lord shall smite him. It will be eaten by worms.

HERODIAS. You hear what he said about you. He says you'll be eaten by worms.

HEROD. This is not me that he speaks. He never says anything against me. It's the King of Cappadocia that he speaks, the King of Cappadocia who is mine enemy. This is the one that will be eaten by worms. It's not me. He never said anything against me, this prophet, save that I sinned in taking to wife the wife of my brother. Maybe he's right. Indeed, you are sterile.

HERODIAS. I'm sterile, me. And you say that, you always look that my daughter, you who wanted to dance for your pleasure. It's ridiculous to say that. I have borne a child. You never had a child, even one of your slaves. It is you who are sterile, it's not me.

HEROD. Shut up. I tell you that you are sterile. You did not give a child, and the prophet says that our marriage is not a real marriage. He says it is an incestuous marriage, a marriage that will bring misfortune. . . I fear he is right. I'm sure he's right. But this is not the time to talk about these things. By this time I want to be happy. By the way I am. I am very pleased. There is nothing I lack.

HERODIAS. I am glad you are in such good humor that evening. This is not your custom. But it is late. Let's go. You remember that at sunrise we all go hunting. Ambassadors to Caesar must be all honor, is not it?

SECOND SOLDIER. As it looks dark, the Tetrarch.

FIRST SOLDIER. Yes, it looks dark.

HEROD. Salome, Salome, dance for me. I pray thee dance for me. Tonight I'm sad. Yes, I am very sad tonight. When I came here, I slipped in blood, which is a bad omen, and I heard, I'm sure I heard a whirring in the air, a beating vast wings. I do not know what that means. . . I'm sad tonight. Therefore dance for me. Dance for me, Salome, I beseech thee. If you dance for me you can ask me anything you want and I will give it. Yes, dance for me, Salome, and give you whatever you ask me, if only half of my kingdom.

SALOME [Rising] You give me everything I ask, Tetrarch?

HERODIAS. Do not dance, my daughter.

HEROD. Everything, even the half of my kingdom.

SALOME. You swear it, Tetrarch?

HEROD. I swear it, Salome.

HERODIAS. My daughter, do not dance.

SALOME. What do you swear, Tetrarch?

HEROD. On my life, my crown, my gods. Anything you want I will give it, if only half of my kingdom, if you dance for me. Oh! Salome, Salome, dance for me.

SALOME. You have sworn, Tetrarch.

HEROD. I swore, Salome.

SALOME. All I ask you, if only half your kingdom?

HERODIAS. Do not dance, my daughter.

HEROD. If only half of my kingdom. As queen, you'd be beautiful, Salome, if it please thee to ask for half of my kingdom. Is she not be fair as a queen? . . . Ah! it is cold here! there is a very cold wind, and I hear. . . why is it that I hear in the air this beating of wings? Oh! there seems to be a bird, a large black bird that hovers over the terrace. Why I can not see this bird? The beating of its wings is terrible. The wind of its wings is terrible. It's a cold wind. . . But no, it's not cold at all. Rather, it is very hot. It's too hot. I'm suffocating. Pour water on my hands. Give me snow to eat. Loosen my mantle. Quick, quick, loosen my coat. . . No. Leave it. It is my garland that hurts me, my garland of roses. It seems that these flowers are made of fire. They have burned my forehead. [He snatches the crown from his head, and throws it on the table.] Ah! I can breathe. How red those petals! Looks like blood stains on the tablecloth. It does not matter. We must not find symbols in each thing you see. It makes life impossible. It would be better to say that stains of blood are as lovely as rose petals. It would be much better to say that. . . But not talking about that. Now I am happy. I am very pleased. I have the right to be happy, is not it? Your daughter will dance for me. Is it that you'll dance for me, Salome? You promised to dance for me.

HERODIAS. I do not want her to dance.

SALOME. I dance for you, Tetrarch.

HEROD. You hear what your daughter says. She will dance for me. You are right, Salome, dance for me. And, after you have danced do not forget to ask me anything you want. Anything you want I will give it, if only half of my kingdom. I swore, is not it?

SALOME. You have sworn, Tetrarch.

HEROD. And I've never broken my word. I am not of those who break their oaths. I can not lie. I am the slave of my word and my word is the word of a king. The king of Cappadocia always lies, but it's not a real king. He is a coward. Also he owes me money they do not want to pay. He has even insulted my ambassadors. He said some very hurtful. But Caesar will crucify him when he comes to Rome. I'm sure Caesar will crucify him. Or it will eat worms. The prophet has prophesied. Well! Salome, what do you expect?

SALOME. I'm waiting until my slaves bring perfumes and the seven veils, and deprive me of my sandals.

[Slaves bring perfumes and the seven veils, and take off the sandals of Salome.]

HEROD. Ah! you dance barefoot! It's good! It's good! Thy little feet will be like white doves. They like little white flowers that dance upon the trees. . . Ah! not. She will dance on blood! There is blood on the floor. I do not want her to dance in the blood. It would be a very bad omen.

HERODIAS. What do you feel she dance on blood? You have walked in you. . .

HEROD. What do I care? Ah! look at the moon! She has become red. She turned red as blood. Ah! the prophet foretold. He predicted that the moon would become red like blood. Is not he predicted that? You've all heard. The moon became as blood. Do not you see?

HERODIAS. So I see, and the stars are falling like unripe figs, is not it? And the sun became black as sackcloth of hair, and the kings of the earth are afraid. This at least is seen. For once in his life the prophet was right. The kings of the earth are afraid. . . Finally, let's go. You are sick. They will say at Rome that you are crazy. Let's go, I tell you.

THE VOICE OF IOKANAAN. Who is he that cometh from Edom, from Bozrah with that comes her dress dyed purple, who shineth in the beauty of his garments, and works with all-powerful force? Why is thy raiment stained with scarlet?

HERODIAS. Let's go. The voice of that man maddens me. I do not want my daughter dance while he screams like that. I do not want her dance while you look like that. Finally, I do not want her to dance.

HEROD. Do not rise, my wife, my queen, it's useless. I do not go within till she hath danced. Dance, Salome, dance for me.

HERODIAS. Do not dance, my daughter.

SALOME. I am ready, Tetrarch.

[Salome dances the dance of seven veils.]

HEROD. Ah! it's beautiful, it's beautiful! You see she has danced for me, your daughter. Come near, Salome! Near, that I can give you your salary. Ah! I pay those who dance for me. You, I will pay you well. I'll give you everything you want. What wilt thou have?

SALOME [Kneeling] I wish they presently bring me in a silver bowl. . .

HEROD [Laughing] In a silver charger? but yes, in a pool of money, certainly. She is charming, is not it? What do you want us to bring thee in a silver bowl, sweet and fair Salome, thou that art fairer than all the daughters of Judaea? What do you want us to bring thee in a silver charger? Tell me. Whatever that may be, thou shalt receive. My treasures belong to thee. What is this, Salome.

SALOME [Rising] The head of Iokanaan.

HDODIAS. Ah! well said, my daughter.

HEROD. No, no.

HERODIAS. Well said, my daughter.

HEROD. No, no, Salome. You do not ask me that. Do not listen to your mother. She always gives you bad advice. Do not listen.

SALOME. I do not listen to my mother. This is for my own pleasure that I ask the head of Iokanaan in a silver bowl. You have sworn, Herod. Remember that you have sworn.

HEROD. I know. I have sworn by my gods. I know. But I pray thee, Salome, ask me anything. Ask me half of my kingdom, and I will give it. But do not ask me what you asked me.

SALOME. I ask the head of Iokanaan.

HEROD. No, no, I do not want.

SALOME. You have sworn, Herod.

HERODIAS. Yes, you have sworn. Everyone has heard you. You swore it before everybody.

HERODIAS. Shut up. It's not that I speak to you.

HERODIAS. My daughter has done well to ask the head of this man. He vomited insults against me. He has said unspeakable things against me. We see that she loves her mother. Do not yield, my daughter. He swore, he swore.

HEROD. Shut up. Do not talk to me. . . See, Salome, must be reasonable, does not it? Is it not reasonable that he should be? I have never been hard on you. I have always loved. . . Maybe, I have loved too. So do not ask me that. It's horrible, it's terrible to ask of me. Basically, I do not think you're serious. The head of a decapitated man, this is an ugly thing, is not it? This is not something that a virgin should look upon. What fun would that give you? No. No, no, you do not want that. . . Hear me a moment. I have an emerald, a great emerald and round as the favorite of Caesar sent me. If you look through this emerald thou canst see that which passeth afar off. Caesar himself carries a very similar when he goes to the circus. But mine is bigger. I know it is larger. It is the largest emerald in the world. Do not you want that? Ask me and I will give it.

SALOME. I ask the head of Iokanaan.

HEROD. You are not listening, you are not listening. Finally, let me speak, Salome.

SALOME. The head of Iokanaan.

HEROD. No, no, you do not want that. You say that just to hurt me, because I have watched you throughout the evening. Hey! Well, yes. I have watched you throughout the evening. Your beauty has troubled me. Your beauty has grievously troubled me, and I've watched too. But I never do it again. It should look neither things nor people. We should look in the mirror. For mirrors do but show us masks. . . Oh! Oh! Wine! I am thirsty. . . Salome,

Salome, let us be friends. Finally, see. . . What I meant? What was that? Ah! I remember! . . . Salome! No, come closer to me. I'm afraid you do not hear me. . . Salome, thou knowest my white peacocks, my beautiful white peacocks, that walk in the garden between the myrtles and the tall cypress. Their beaks are gilded, and grains they eat are smeared with gold, and their feet are stained with purple. The rain comes when they cry, and when they strut around the moon shows herself to heaven. They go two by two among the cypress and the black myrtles, and each has a slave to tend it. Sometimes they fly through the trees, and sometimes they sleep on the grass and around the pond. There is no in the world birds so wonderful. There is no king of the world that has such wonderful birds. I'm sure even Caesar has no peacocks. Well! I'll give you fifty of my peacocks. They will follow you everywhere, and among them you will like the moon in a big white cloud. . . I will give them all. I have only one hundred, and there is no king of the world who has peacocks like mine, but I will give them all. Only thou must loose me from my word and do not ask me what you asked me. [He empties the cup of wine.]

SALOME. Give me the head of Iokanaan.

HERODIAS. Well said, my daughter! You, you are ridiculous with your peacocks.

HEROD. Shut up. You are always crying. You scream like a beast of prey. Do not shout like that. Your voice annoys me. Hush, I tell you. . . Salome, think about what you do. This man may have come from God. I'm sure it comes from God. It is a holy man. God's finger touched him. God has put into his mouth terrible words. In the palace, as in the desert, God is always with him. . . At least, it is possible. It is not known, but it is possible that God is with him and for him. So maybe if he died, a misfortune happen to me. Finally, he said that when he dies a misfortune happen to someone. It can be up to me. Remember, I slipped in blood when I came here. Also I heard a whirring in the air, a beating of giant wings. These are ill omens. And there were others. I'm sure there were others, though I saw them not. Well! Salome, you do not want something bad from happening to me? You do not want that. Finally, listen to me.

SALOME. Give me the head of Iokanaan.

HEROD. You see, you are not listening. Be calm. I am very calm. I am quite calm. Listen. I have some hidden gems here that even your mother has never seen; jewels quite extraordinary. I have a pearl necklace of four rows. They are like unto moons chained with rays of silver. Looks like fifty moons caught in a golden net. A queen was on the ivory breast. But when you carry it, you'll be as beautiful as a queen. I have amethysts of two kinds. One that is black like wine. The one that is red like wine that has colored with water. I have topazes yellow as the eyes of tigers, and topazes that are pink as the eyes of the pigeon, and green topazes like cats' eyes. I have opals that burn always with a flame that is cold as ice, opals that make sad men's minds and are afraid of darkness. I have onyxes like the eyeballs of a dead woman. I have moonstones that change when the moon changes, and are wan when they see the sun. I have sapphires big like eggs and blue as blue flowers. The sea wanders within them, and the moon comes never to trouble the blue of their waves. I have beryl and beryls, I have chrysoprase and rubies, I have sardonyx and hyacinth, and chalcedony, and I will give them all, all, and I will add other things. King of the Indies has just sent me four fans fashioned from the feathers of parrots, and the King of Numidia a garment of ostrich feathers. I have a crystal that is not possible for women to see and even young men should look after being beaten with rods. In a coffer of nacre I have three wondrous turquoises. He who wears them on his forehead can imagine things that do not exist, and he who carries them in his hand can make women infertile. They are treasures of great value. They are priceless treasures. And that's not all. In an ebony coffer I have two cups of amber that are like apples of gold. If an enemy pour poison into these cups they become like apples of silver. In a coffer incrusted with amber I have sandals incrusted with glass. I have mantles that come from the land of the Seres, and bracelets decked with carbuncles and with jade that come from the city of Euphrates. . . Finally, what do you, Salome? Tell me what you want and I will give it. I will give you whatever you ask for, except one thing. I will give everything I have but one life. I give thee the mantle of high priest. I give thee the veil of the sanctuary.

JEWS. Oh! Oh!

SALOME. Give me the head of Iokanaan.

HEROD [Sinking back in his seat] Let her be given what she asks! It is the

daughter of his mother! [The first soldier approaches. Herodias draws from the hand of the Tetrarch the ring of death and gives the Soldier, who immediately executioner. The Executioner looks scared.] Who took my ring? There was a ring on my right hand. Who drank my wine! There was wine in my cup. She was full of wine. Someone has been drinking? Oh! I'm sure something terrible will happen to someone. [The Executioner goes down into the cistern.] Ah! why did I give my word? Kings should swear an oath. If they keep it not, that's terrible. If they keep it, it is terrible also. . .

HERODIAS. I think my daughter has done well.

HEROD. I'm sure something terrible will happen.

SALOME [She leans over the cistern and listens.] There is no noise. I hear nothing. Why does screams he not, this man? Ah! if someone wanted to kill me, I cry out, I would struggle, I would not suffer. . . Strike, strike, Naaman. Strike, I tell you. . . No. I hear nothing. There is a silence awful. Ah! something is dropped. I heard something fall. It was the executioner's sword. He is afraid, this slave! He dropped his sword. He dares not kill him. He is a coward, this slave! We must send troops. [She sees the Page of Herodias and addresses him.] Come here. You were a friend of him who died, did not it? Well, there's not dead men enough. Tell the soldiers they go down and bring me what I ask, the thing the Tetrarch has promised me, what's mine. [The Page recoils. It is addressed to the soldiers.] Come here, soldiers. Go down into this cistern and bring me the head of this man. [The soldiers retreated.] Tetrarch, Tetrarch, command your soldiers to bring me the head of Iokanaan. [A huge black arm, the arm of the Executioner, comes forth from the cistern on a silver shield the head of Iokanaan. Salome seizes it. Herod hides his face with his cloak. Herodias smiles and fans herself. The Nazarenes fall on their knees and start praying.] Ah! you did not let me kiss thy mouth, Iokanaan. Well! I will kiss it now. I will bite it with my teeth as one bites a ripe fruit. Yes, I will kiss thy mouth, Iokanaan. I've told you, is it not? I've told you. Well! I will kiss it now. . . But why did not you look at me? Thine eyes that were so terrible, that were so full of rage and scorn, are shut now. Why are they shut? Open your eyes! Lift up thine eyelids, Iokanaan. Why did not you look? Are you afraid of me, Iokanaan, you do not want to watch? . . . And your tongue was like a red snake darting poison, it moves no more, she says nothing, Iokanaan, that scarlet viper that spat its venom upon me. It's strange, is not it? How is it that the red viper stirs no longer? . . . You do not want me,

Iokanaan. Thou hast rejected. You told me the infamous things. You treated me like a courtesan, a prostitute, to me, Salome, daughter of Herodias, Princess of Judea! Well, Iokanaan, I still live, but you are dead, and thy head belongs to me. I can do what I want. I can throw it to dogs and birds of the air. What the dogs leave, the birds of the air shall devour. . . Ah! Iokanaan, Iokanaan, you were the only man I loved. All other men were hateful to me. But you, you were beautiful. Your body was a column of ivory set upon feet of silver. It was a garden full of doves and lilies of silver. It was a tower of silver decked with shields of ivory. There was nothing in the world so white as thy body. There was nothing in the world so black as thy hair. In the whole world there was nothing so red as thy mouth. Your voice was a censer that scattered strange perfumes, and when I looked on thee I heard a strange music! Ah! why did you not look at me? Behind your hands and blasphemies thou didst hide thy face. You put your eyes on the covering of him who would see his God. Well, you saw, your God, Iokanaan, but me, me. . . thou hast ever seen. If you had seen me, thou wouldst have loved me. I saw you, Iokanaan, and I have loved you. Oh! as I have loved you. I love you still, Iokanaan. I love only you. . . I thirst for your beauty. I am hungry for thy body. And neither wine nor apples can appease my desire. What shall I do now, Iokanaan? Neither the floods nor the great waters can quench my passion. I was a princess, and thou didst scorn me. I was a virgin, thou didst. I was chaste, and thou didst fill my veins with fire. . . Ah! Ah! why did you not look at me? If you had looked you would have loved. I know you have loved me, and the mystery of love is greater than the mystery of death. It should look as love.

HEROD. It is monstrous, thy daughter, she is quite monstrous. Finally, what she did is a great crime. I'm sure it's a crime against some unknown God.

HERODIAS. I agree with what my daughter did, and I would stay here now.

HEROD [rising] Ah! brother's wife speaks! Come! I do not want to stay here. Come, I say. I'm sure something terrible will happen. Manasseh, Issachar, Ozias, put out the torches. I do not want to look at things. I do not want things that concern me. Out the torches. Hide the moon! Hide the stars! Let us hide ourselves in our palace, Herodias. I'm getting scared.

[The slaves put out the torches. The stars disappear. A great cloud passes

through the moon and conceals it completely. The stage becomes quite dark. The Tetrarch begins to climb the stairs.]

THE VOICE OF SALOME. Ah! I have kissed thy mouth, Iokanaan, I have kissed thy mouth. There was a bitter taste on your lips. Was it the taste of blood? . . . But perhaps is it the taste of love. They say that love hath a bitter taste. . . But what matter? Who cares? I have kissed thy mouth, Iokanaan, I have kissed thy mouth.

[A ray of moonlight falls on Salome and illumines her.]

HEROD [Turning round and seeing Salome] Kill that woman!

[The soldiers rush forward and crush beneath their shields Salome, daughter of Herodias, Princess of Judea.] THE HAPPY PRINCE

High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his sword-hilt.

He was very much admired indeed. He is as beautiful as a weathercock, remarked one of the Town Councillors who wished to gain a reputation for having artistic tastes; only not quite so useful, he added, fearing lest people should think him unpractical, which he really was not.

Why cant you be like the Happy Prince? asked a sensible mother of her little boy who was crying for the moon. The Happy Prince never dreams of crying for anything.

I am glad there is some one in the world who is quite happy, muttered a disappointed man as he gazed at the wonderful statue.

He looks just like an angel, said the Charity Children as they came out of the cathedral in their bright scarlet cloaks and their clean white pinafores.

How do you know? said the Mathematical Master, you have never seen one.

Ah! but we have, in our dreams, answered the children; and the Mathematical Master frowned and looked very severe, for he did not approve of children dreaming.

One night there flew over the city a little Swallow. His friends had gone away to Egypt six weeks before, but he had stayed behind, for he was in love with the most beautiful Reed. He had met her early in the spring as he was flying down the river after a big yellow moth, and had been so attracted by her slender waist that he had stopped to talk to her.

Shall I love you? said the Swallow, who liked to come to the point at once, and the Reed made him a low bow. So he flew round and round her, touching the water with his wings, and making silver ripples. This was his courtship, and it lasted all through the summer.

It is a ridiculous attachment, twittered the other Swallows; she has no money, and far too many relations; and indeed the river was quite full of Reeds. Then, when the autumn came they all flew away.

After they had gone he felt lonely, and began to tire of his lady-love. She has no conversation, he said, and I am afraid that she is a coquette, for she is always flirting with the wind. And certainly, whenever the wind blew, the Reed made the most graceful curtseys. I admit that she is domestic, he

continued, but I love travelling, and my wife, consequently, should love travelling also.

Will you come away with me? he said finally to her; but the Reed shook her head, she was so attached to her home.

You have been trifling with me, he cried. I am off to the Pyramids. Goodbye! and he flew away.

All day long he flew, and at night-time he arrived at the city. Where shall I put up? he said; I hope the town has made preparations.

Then he saw the statue on the tall column.

I will put up there, he cried; it is a fine position, with plenty of fresh air. So he alighted just between the feet of the Happy Prince.

I have a golden bedroom, he said softly to himself as he looked round, and he prepared to go to sleep; but just as he was putting his head under his wing a large drop of water fell on him. What a curious thing! he cried; there is not a single cloud in the sky, the stars are quite clear and bright, and yet it is raining. The climate in the north of Europe is really dreadful. The Reed used to like the rain, but that was merely her selfishness.

Then another drop fell.

What is the use of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off? he said; I must look for a good chimney-pot, and he determined to fly away.

But before he had opened his wings, a third drop fell, and he looked up, and sawAh! what did he see?

The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were running down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in the moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity.

Who are you? he said.

I am the Happy Prince.

Why are you weeping then? asked the Swallow; you have quite drenched me.

When I was alive and had a human heart, answered the statue, I did not know what tears were, for I lived in the Palace of Sans-Souci, where sorrow is not allowed to enter. In the daytime I played with my companions in the garden, and in the evening I led the dance in the Great Hall. Round the garden ran a very lofty wall, but I never cared to ask what lay beyond it, everything about me was so beautiful. My courtiers called me the Happy Prince, and happy indeed I was, if pleasure be happiness. So I lived, and so I died. And now that I am dead they have set me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness and all the misery of my city, and though my heart is made of lead yet I cannot chose but weep.

What! is he not solid gold? said the Swallow to himself. He was too polite to make any personal remarks out loud.

Far away, continued the statue in a low musical voice, far away in a little street there is a poor house. One of the windows is open, and through it I can see a woman seated at a table. Her face is thin and worn, and she has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she is a seamstress. She is embroidering passion-flowers on a satin gown for the loveliest of the Queens maids-of-honour to wear at the next Court-ball. In a bed in the corner of the room her little boy is lying ill. He has a fever, and is asking for oranges. His mother has nothing to give him but river water, so he is crying. Swallow,

Swallow, little Swallow, will you not bring her the ruby out of my sword-hilt? My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move.

I am waited for in Egypt, said the Swallow. My friends are flying up and down the Nile, and talking to the large lotus-flowers. Soon they will go to sleep in the tomb of the great King. The King is there himself in his painted coffin. He is wrapped in yellow linen, and embalmed with spices. Round his neck is a chain of pale green jade, and his hands are like withered leaves.

Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, said the Prince, will you not stay with me for one night, and be my messenger? The boy is so thirsty, and the mother so sad.

I dont think I like boys, answered the Swallow. Last summer, when I was staying on the river, there were two rude boys, the millers sons, who were always throwing stones at me. They never hit me, of course; we swallows fly far too well for that, and besides, I come of a family famous for its agility; but still, it was a mark of disrespect.

But the Happy Prince looked so sad that the little Swallow was sorry. It is very cold here, he said; but I will stay with you for one night, and be your messenger.

Thank you, little Swallow, said the Prince.

So the Swallow picked out the great ruby from the Princes sword, and flew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town.

He passed by the cathedral tower, where the white marble angels were sculptured. He passed by the palace and heard the sound of dancing. A beautiful girl came out on the balcony with her lover. How wonderful the stars are, he said to her, and how wonderful is the power of love!

I hope my dress will be ready in time for the State-ball, she answered; I have ordered passion-flowers to be embroidered on it; but the seamstresses are so lazy.

He passed over the river, and saw the lanterns hanging to the masts of the ships. He passed over the Ghetto, and saw the old Jews bargaining with each other, and weighing out money in copper scales. At last he came to the poor house and looked in. The boy was tossing feverishly on his bed, and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so tired. In he hopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside the womans thimble. Then he flew gently round the bed, fanning the boys forehead with his wings. How cool I feel, said the boy, I must be getting better; and he sank into a delicious slumber.

Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince, and told him what he had done. It is curious, he remarked, but I feel quite warm now, although it is so cold.

That is because you have done a good action, said the Prince. And the little Swallow began to think, and then he fell asleep. Thinking always made him sleepy.

When day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath. What a remarkable phenomenon, said the Professor of Ornithology as he was passing over the bridge. A swallow in winter! And he wrote a long letter about it to the local newspaper. Every one quoted it, it was full of so many words that they could not understand.

To-night I go to Egypt, said the Swallow, and he was in high spirits at the prospect. He visited all the public monuments, and sat a long time on top of the church steeple. Wherever he went the Sparrows chirruped, and said to each other, What a distinguished stranger! so he enjoyed himself very much.

When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince. Have you any commissions for Egypt? he cried; I am just starting.

Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, said the Prince, will you not stay with me one night longer?

I am waited for in Egypt, answered the Swallow. To-morrow my friends will fly up to the Second Cataract. The river-horse couches there among the bulrushes, and on a great granite throne sits the God Memnon. All night long he watches the stars, and when the morning star shines he utters one cry of joy, and then he is silent. At noon the yellow lions come down to the waters edge to drink. They have eyes like green beryls, and their roar is louder than the roar of the cataract.

Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, said the Prince, far away across the city I see a young man in a garret. He is leaning over a desk covered with papers, and in a tumbler by his side there is a bunch of withered violets. His hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are red as a pomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes. He is trying to finish a play for the Director of the Theatre, but he is too cold to write any more. There is no fire in the grate, and hunger has made him faint.

I will wait with you one night longer, said the Swallow, who really had a good heart. Shall I take him another ruby?

Alas! I have no ruby now, said the Prince; my eyes are all that I have left. They are made of rare sapphires, which were brought out of India a thousand years ago. Pluck out one of them and take it to him. He will sell it to the jeweller, and buy food and firewood, and finish his play.

Dear Prince, said the Swallow, I cannot do that; and he began to weep.

Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, said the Prince, do as I command you.

So the Swallow plucked out the Princes eye, and flew away to the students

garret. It was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole in the roof. Through this he darted, and came into the room. The young man had his head buried in his hands, so he did not hear the flutter of the birds wings, and when he looked up he found the beautiful sapphire lying on the withered violets.

I am beginning to be appreciated, he cried; this is from some great admirer. Now I can finish my play, and he looked quite happy.

The next day the Swallow flew down to the harbour. He sat on the mast of a large vessel and watched the sailors hauling big chests out of the hold with ropes. Heave a-hoy! they shouted as each chest came up. I am going to Egypt! cried the Swallow, but nobody minded, and when the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince.

I am come to bid you good-bye, he cried.

Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, said the Prince, will you not stay with me one night longer?

It is winter, answered the Swallow, and the chill snow will soon be here. In Egypt the sun is warm on the green palm-trees, and the crocodiles lie in the mud and look lazily about them. My companions are building a nest in the Temple of Baalbec, and the pink and white doves are watching them, and cooing to each other. Dear Prince, I must leave you, but I will never forget you, and next spring I will bring you back two beautiful jewels in place of those you have given away. The ruby shall be redder than a red rose, and the sapphire shall be as blue as the great sea.

In the square below, said the Happy Prince, there stands a little match-girl. She has let her matches fall in the gutter, and they are all spoiled. Her father will beat her if she does not bring home some money, and she is crying. She has no shoes or stockings, and her little head is bare. Pluck out my other eye, and give it to her, and her father will not beat her.

I will stay with you one night longer, said the Swallow, but I cannot pluck out your eye. You would be quite blind then.

Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, said the Prince, do as I command you.

So he plucked out the Princes other eye, and darted down with it. He swooped past the match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of her hand. What a lovely bit of glass, cried the little girl; and she ran home, laughing.

Then the Swallow came back to the Prince. You are blind now, he said, so I will stay with you always.

No, little Swallow, said the poor Prince, you must go away to Egypt.

I will stay with you always, said the Swallow, and he slept at the Princes feet.

All the next day he sat on the Princes shoulder, and told him stories of what he had seen in strange lands. He told him of the red ibises, who stand in long rows on the banks of the Nile, and catch gold-fish in their beaks; of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself, and lives in the desert, and knows everything; of the merchants, who walk slowly by the side of their camels, and carry amber beads in their hands; of the King of the Mountains of the Moon, who is as black as ebony, and worships a large crystal; of the great green snake that sleeps in a palm-tree, and has twenty priests to feed it with honey-cakes; and of the pygmies who sail over a big lake on large flat leaves, and are always at war with the butterflies.

Dear little Swallow, said the Prince, you tell me of marvellous things, but more marvellous than anything is the suffering of men and of women. There is no Mystery so great as Misery. Fly over my city, little Swallow, and tell me what you see there.

So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making merry in their beautiful houses, while the beggars were sitting at the gates. He flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of starving children looking out listlessly at the black streets. Under the archway of a bridge two little boys were lying in one anothers arms to try and keep themselves warm. How hungry we are! they said. You must not lie here, shouted the Watchman, and they wandered out into the rain.

Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen.

I am covered with fine gold, said the Prince, you must take it off, leaf by leaf, and give it to my poor; the living always think that gold can make them happy.

Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the Happy Prince looked quite dull and grey. Leaf after leaf of the fine gold he brought to the poor, and the childrens faces grew rosier, and they laughed and played games in the street. We have bread now! they cried.

Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The streets looked as if they were made of silver, they were so bright and glistening; long icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eaves of the houses, everybody went about in furs, and the little boys wore scarlet caps and skated on the ice.

The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave the Prince, he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs outside the bakers door when the baker was not looking and tried to keep himself warm by flapping his wings.

But at last he knew that he was going to die. He had just strength to fly up to the Princes shoulder once more. Good-bye, dear Prince! he murmured, will you let me kiss your hand?

I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow, said the Prince, you have stayed too long here; but you must kiss me on the lips, for I love you.

It is not to Egypt that I am going, said the Swallow. I am going to the House of Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?

And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his feet.

At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if something had broken. The fact is that the leaden heart had snapped right in two. It certainly was a dreadfully hard frost.

Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in company with the Town Councillors. As they passed the column he looked up at the statue: Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince looks! he said.

How shabby indeed! cried the Town Councillors, who always agreed with the Mayor; and they went up to look at it.

The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and he is golden no longer, said the Mayor in fact, he is litttle beter than a beggar!

Little better than a beggar, said the Town Councillors.

And here is actually a dead bird at his feet! continued the Mayor. We must really issue a proclamation that birds are not to be allowed to die here. And the Town Clerk made a note of the suggestion.

So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince. As he is no longer beautiful he is no longer useful, said the Art Professor at the University.

Then they melted the statue in a furnace, and the Mayor held a meeting of the Corporation to decide what was to be done with the metal. We must have another statue, of course, he said, and it shall be a statue of myself.

Of myself, said each of the Town Councillors, and they quarrelled. When I last heard of them they were quarrelling still.

What a strange thing! said the overseer of the workmen at the foundry. This broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace. We must throw it away. So they threw it on a dust-heap where the dead Swallow was also lying.

Bring me the two most precious things in the city, said God to one of His Angels; and the Angel brought Him the leaden heart and the dead bird.

You have rightly chosen, said God, for in my garden of Paradise this little bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the Happy Prince shall praise me.

THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE ROSE

She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses, cried the young Student; but in all my garden there is no red rose.

From her nest in the holm-oak tree the Nightingale heard him, and she looked out through the leaves, and wondered.

No red rose in all my garden! he cried, and his beautiful eyes filled with tears. Ah, on what little things does happiness depend! I have read all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is my life made wretched.

Here at last is a true lover, said the Nightingale. Night after night have I sung of him, though I knew him not: night after night have I told his story to the stars, and now I see him. His hair is dark as the hyacinth-blossom, and his lips are red as the rose of his desire; but passion has made his face like pale ivory, and sorrow has set her seal upon his brow.

The Prince gives a ball to-morrow night, murmured the young Student, and my love will be of the company. If I bring her a red rose she will dance with me till dawn. If I bring her a red rose, I shall hold her in my arms, and she will lean her head upon my shoulder, and her hand will be clasped in mine. But there is no red rose in my garden, so I shall sit lonely, and she will pass me by. She will have no heed of me, and my heart will break.

Here indeed is the true lover, said the Nightingale. What I sing of, he sufferswhat is joy to me, to him is pain. Surely Love is a wonderful thing. It is more precious than emeralds, and dearer than fine opals. Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it, nor is it set forth in the marketplace. It may not be purchased of the merchants, nor can it be weighed out in the balance for gold.

The musicians will sit in their gallery, said the young Student, and play upon their stringed instruments, and my love will dance to the sound of the harp and the violin. She will dance so lightly that her feet will not touch the floor, and the courtiers in their gay dresses will throng round her. But with me she will not dance, for I have no red rose to give her; and he flung himself down on the grass, and buried his face in his hands, and wept.

Why is he weeping? asked a little Green Lizard, as he ran past him with his tail in the air.

Why, indeed? said a Butterfly, who was fluttering about after a sunbeam.

Why, indeed? whispered a Daisy to his neighbour, in a soft, low voice.

He is weeping for a red rose, said the Nightingale.

For a red rose? they cried; how very ridiculous! and the little Lizard, who was something of a cynic, laughed outright.

But the Nightingale understood the secret of the Students sorrow, and she sat silent in the oak-tree, and thought about the mystery of Love.

Suddenly she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She passed through the grove like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed across the garden.

In the centre of the grass-plot was standing a beautiful Rose-tree, and when she saw it she flew over to it, and lit upon a spray.

Give me a red rose, she cried, and I will sing you my sweetest song.

But the Tree shook its head.

My roses are white, it answered; as white as the foam of the sea, and whiter than the snow upon the mountain. But go to my brother who grows round the old sun-dial, and perhaps he will give you what you want.

So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing round the old

sun-dial.

Give me a red rose, she cried, and I will sing you my sweetest song.

But the Tree shook its head.

My roses are yellow, it answered; as yellow as the hair of the mermaiden who sits upon an amber throne, and yellower than the daffodil that blooms in the meadow before the mower comes with his scythe. But go to my brother who grows beneath the Students window, and perhaps he will give you what you want.

So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing beneath the Students window.

Give me a red rose, she cried, and I will sing you my sweetest song.

But the Tree shook its head.

My roses are red, it answered, as red as the feet of the dove, and redder than the great fans of coral that wave and wave in the ocean-cavern. But the winter has chilled my veins, and the frost has nipped my buds, and the storm has broken my branches, and I shall have no roses at all this year.

One red rose is all I want, cried the Nightingale, only one red rose! Is there no way by which I can get it?

There is away, answered the Tree; but it is so terrible that I dare not tell it to you.

Tell it to me, said the Nightingale, I am not afraid.

If you want a red rose, said the Tree, you must build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with your own hearts-blood. You must sing to me with your breast against a thorn. All night long you must sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and your life-blood must flow into my veins, and become mine.

Death is a great price to pay for a red rose, cried the Nightingale, and Life is very dear to all. It is pleasant to sit in the green wood, and to watch the Sun in his chariot of gold, and the Moon in her chariot of pearl. Sweet is the scent of the hawthorn, and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the valley, and the heather that blows on the hill. Yet Love is better than Life, and what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man?

So she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She swept over the garden like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed through the grove.

The young Student was still lying on the grass, where she had left him, and the tears were not yet dry in his beautiful eyes.

Be happy, cried the Nightingale, be happy; you shall have your red rose. I will build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own hearts-blood. All that I ask of you in return is that you will be a true lover, for Love is wiser than Philosophy, though she is wise, and mightier than Power, though he is mighty. Flame-coloured are his wings, and coloured like flame is his body. His lips are sweet as honey, and his breath is like frankincense.

The Student looked up from the grass, and listened, but he could not understand what the Nightingale was saying to him, for he only knew the things that are written down in books.

But the Oak-tree understood, and felt sad, for he was very fond of the little

Nightingale who had built her nest in his branches.

Sing me one last song, he whispered; I shall feel very lonely when you are gone.

So the Nightingale sang to the Oak-tree, and her voice was like water bubbling from a silver jar.

When she had finished her song the Student got up, and pulled a note-book and a lead-pencil out of his pocket.

She has form, he said to himself, as he walked away through the grove that cannot be denied to her; but has she got feeling? I am afraid not. In fact, she is like most artists; she is all style, without any sincerity. She would not sacrifice herself for others. She thinks merely of music, and everybody knows that the arts are selfish. Still, it must be admitted that she has some beautiful notes in her voice. What a pity it is that they do not mean anything, or do any practical good. And he went into his room, and lay down on his little pallet-bed, and began to think of his love; and, after a time, he fell asleep.

And when the Moon shone in the heavens the Nightingale flew to the Rosetree, and set her breast against the thorn. All night long she sang with her breast against the thorn, and the cold crystal Moon leaned down and listened. All night long she sang, and the thorn went deeper and deeper into her breast, and her life-blood ebbed away from her.

She sang first of the birth of love in the heart of a boy and a girl. And on the top-most spray of the Rose-tree there blossomed a marvellous rose, petal following petal, as song followed song. Pale was it, at first, as the mist that hangs over the riverpale as the feet of the morning, and silver as the wings of the dawn. As the shadow of a rose in a mirror of silver, as the shadow of a rose in a water-pool, so was the rose that blossomed on the topmost spray of the Tree.

But the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. Press closer, little Nightingale, cried the Tree, or the Day will come before the rose is finished.

So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and louder and louder grew her song, for she sang of the birth of passion in the soul of a man and a maid.

And a delicate flush of pink came into the leaves of the rose, like the flush in the face of the bridegroom when he kisses the lips of the bride. But the thorn had not yet reached her heart, so the roses heart remained white, for only a Nightingales hearts-blood can crimson the heart of a rose.

And the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. Press closer, little Nightingale, cried the Tree, or the Day will come before the rose is finished.

So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and the thorn touched her heart, and a fierce pang of pain shot through her. Bitter, bitter was the pain, and wilder and wilder grew her song, for she sang of the Love that is perfected by Death, of the Love that dies not in the tomb.

And the marvellous rose became crimson, like the rose of the eastern sky. Crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as a ruby was the heart.

But the Nightingales voice grew fainter, and her little wings began to beat, and a film came over her eyes. Fainter and fainter grew her song, and she felt something choking her in her throat.

Then she gave one last burst of music. The white Moon heard it, and she forgot the dawn, and lingered on in the sky. The red rose heard it, and it trembled all over with ecstasy, and opened its petals to the cold morning air.

Echo bore it to her purple cavern in the hills, and woke the sleeping shepherds from their dreams. It floated through the reeds of the river, and they carried its message to the sea.

Look, look! cried the Tree, the rose is finished now; but the Nightingale made no answer, for she was lying dead in the long grass, with the thorn in her heart.

And at noon the Student opened his window and looked out.

Why, what a wonderful piece of luck! he cried; here is a red rose! I have never seen any rose like it in all my life. It is so beautiful that I am sure it has a long Latin name; and he leaned down and plucked it.

Then he put on his hat, and ran up to the Professors house with the rose in his hand.

The daughter of the Professor was sitting in the doorway winding blue silk on a reel, and her little dog was lying at her feet.

You said that you would dance with me if I brought you a red rose, cried the Student. Here is the reddest rose in all the world. You will wear it to-night next your heart, and as we dance together it will tell you how I love you.

But the girl frowned.

I am afraid it will not go with my dress, she answered; and, besides, the Chamberlains nephew has sent me some real jewels, and everybody knows that jewels cost far more than flowers.

Well, upon my word, you are very ungrateful, said the Student angrily; and

he threw the rose into the street, where it fell into the gutter, and a cartwheel went over it.

Ungrateful! said the girl. I tell you what, you are very rude; and, after all, who are you? Only a Student. Why, I dont believe you have even got silver buckles to your shoes as the Chamberlains nephew has; and she got up from her chair and went into the house.

What I a silly thing Love is, said the Student as he walked away. It is not half as useful as Logic, for it does not prove anything, and it is always telling one of things that are not going to happen, and making one believe things that are not true. In fact, it is quite unpractical, and, as in this age to be practical is everything, I shall go back to Philosophy and study Metaphysics.

So he returned to his room and pulled out a great dusty book, and began to read.

THE SELFISH GIANT

Every afternoon, as they were coming from school, the children used to go and play in the Giants garden.

It was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass. Here and there over the grass stood beautiful flowers like stars, and there were twelve peach-trees that in the spring-time broke out into delicate blossoms of pink and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit. The birds sat on the trees and sang so sweetly that the children used to stop their games in order to listen to them. How happy we are here! they cried to each other.

One day the Giant came back. He had been to visit his friend the Cornish ogre, and had stayed with him for seven years. After the seven years were over he had said all that he had to say, for his conversation was limited, and he determined to return to his own castle. When he arrived he saw the children playing in the garden.

What are you doing here? he cried in a very gruff voice, and the children ran away.

My own garden is my own garden, said the Giant; any one can understand that, and I will allow nobody to play in it but myself. So he built a high wall all round it, and put up a notice-board.

TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED

He was a very selfish Giant.

The poor children had now nowhere to play. They tried to play on the road, but the road was very dusty and full of hard stones, and they did not like it. They used to wander round the high wall when their lessons were over, and talk about the beautiful garden inside. How happy we were there, they said to each other.

Then the Spring came, and all over the country there were little blossoms and little birds. Only in the garden of the Selfish Giant it was still winter. The birds did not care to sing in it as there were no children, and the trees forgot

to blossom. Once a beautiful flower put its head out from the grass, but when it saw the notice-board it was so sorry for the children that it slipped back into the ground again, and went off to sleep. The only people who were pleased were the Snow and the Frost. Spring has forgotten this garden, they cried, so we will live here all the year round. The Snow covered up the grass with her great white cloak, and the Frost painted all the trees silver. Then they invited the North Wind to stay with them, and he came. He was wrapped in furs, and he roared all day about the garden, and blew the chimney-pots down. This is a delightful spot, he said, we must ask the Hail on a visit. So the Hail came. Every day for three hours he rattled on the roof of the castle till he broke most of the slates, and then he ran round and round the garden as fast as he could go. He was dressed in grey, and his breath was like ice.

I cannot understand why the Spring is so late in coming, said the Selfish Giant, as he sat at the window and looked out at his cold white garden; I hope there will be a change in the weather.

But the Spring never came, nor the Summer. The Autumn gave golden fruit to every garden, but to the Giants garden she gave none. He is too selfish, she said. So it was always Winter there, and the North Wind, and the Hail, and the Frost, and the Snow danced about through the trees.

One morning the Giant was lying awake in bed when he heard some lovely music. It sounded so sweet to his ears that he thought it must be the Kings musicians passing by. It was really only a little linnet singing outside his window, but it was so long since he had heard a bird sing in his garden that it seemed to him to be the most beautiful music in the world. Then the Hail stopped dancing over his head, and the North Wind ceased roaring, and a delicious perfume came to him through the open casement. I believe the Spring has come at last, said the Giant; and he jumped out of bed and looked out.

What did he see?

He saw a most wonderful sight. Through a little hole in the wall the children had crept in, and they were sitting in the branches of the trees. In every tree

that he could see there was a little child. And the trees were so glad to have the children back again that they had covered themselves with blossoms, and were waving their arms gently above the childrens heads. The birds were flying about and twittering with delight, and the flowers were looking up through the green grass and laughing. It was a lovely scene, only in one corner it was still winter. It was the farthest corner of the garden, and in it was standing a little boy. He was so small that he could not reach up to the branches of the tree, and he was wandering all round it, crying bitterly. The poor tree was still quite covered with frost and snow, and the North Wind was blowing and roaring above it. Climb up! little boy, said the Tree, and it bent its branches down as low as it could; but the boy was too tiny.

And the Giants heart melted as he looked out. How selfish I have been! he said; now I know why the Spring would not come here. I will put that poor little boy on the top of the tree, and then I will knock down the wall, and my garden shall be the childrens playground for ever and ever. He was really very sorry for what he had done.

So he crept downstairs and opened the front door quite softly, and went out into the garden. But when the children saw him they were so frightened that they all ran away, and the garden became winter again. Only the little boy did not run, for his eyes were so full of tears that he did not see the Giant coming. And the Giant stole up behind him and took him gently in his hand, and put him up into the tree. And the tree broke at once into blossom, and the birds came and sang on it, and the little boy stretched out his two arms and flung them round the Giants neck, and kissed him. And the other children, when they saw that the Giant was not wicked any longer, came running back, and with them came the Spring. It is your garden now, little children, said the Giant, and he took a great axe and knocked down the wall. And when the people were going to market at twelve oclock they found the Giant playing with the children in the most beautiful garden they had ever seen.

All day long they played, and in the evening they came to the Giant to bid him good-bye.

But where is your little companion? he said: the boy I put into the tree. The Giant loved him the best because he had kissed him.

We dont know, answered the children; he has gone away.

You must tell him to be sure and come here to-morrow, said the Giant. But the children said that they did not know where he lived, and had never seen him before; and the Giant felt very sad.

Every afternoon, when school was over, the children came and played with the Giant. But the little boy whom the Giant loved was never seen again. The Giant was very kind to all the children, yet he longed for his first little friend, and often spoke of him. How I would like to see him! he used to say.

Years went over, and the Giant grew very old and feeble. He could not play about any more, so he sat in a huge armchair, and watched the children at their games, and admired his garden. I have many beautiful flowers, he said; but the children are the most beautiful flowers of all.

One winter morning he looked out of his window as he was dressing. He did not hate the Winter now, for he knew that it was merely the Spring asleep, and that the flowers were resting.

Suddenly he rubbed his eyes in wonder, and looked and looked. It certainly was a marvellous sight. In the farthest corner of the garden was a tree quite covered with lovely white blossoms. Its branches were all golden, and silver fruit hung down from them, and underneath it stood the little boy he had loved.

Downstairs ran the Giant in great joy, and out into the garden. He hastened across the grass, and came near to the child. And when he came quite close his face grew red with anger, and he said, Who hath dared to wound thee? For on the palms of the childs hands were the prints of two nails, and the prints of two nails were on the little feet.

Who hath dared to wound thee? cried the Giant; tell me, that I may take my big sword and slay him.

Nay! answered the child; but these are the wounds of Love.

Who art thou? said the Giant, and a strange awe fell on him, and he knelt before the little child.

And the child smiled on the Giant, and said to him, You let me play once in your garden, to-day you shall come with me to my garden, which is Paradise.

And when the children ran in that afternoon, they found the Giant lying dead under the tree, all covered with white blossoms.

THE DEVOTED FRIEND

One morning the old Water-rat put his head out of his hole. He had bright beady eyes and stiff grey whiskers and his tail was like a long bit of black india-rubber. The little ducks were swimming about in the pond, looking just like a lot of yellow canaries, and their mother, who was pure white with real red legs, was trying to teach them how to stand on their heads in the water.

You will never be in the best society unless you can stand on your heads, she kept saying to them; and every now and then she showed them how it was done. But the little ducks paid no attention to her. They were so young that they did not know what an advantage it is to be in society at all.

What disobedient children! cried the old Water-rat; they really deserve to be drowned.

Nothing of the kind, answered the Duck, every one must make a beginning, and parents cannot be too patient.

Ah! I know nothing about the feelings of parents, said the Water-rat; I am not a family man. In fact, I have never been married, and I never intend to be. Love is all very well in its way, but friendship is much higher. Indeed, I know of nothing in the world that is either nobler or rarer than a devoted friendship.

And what, pray, is your idea of the duties of a devoted friend? asked a Green Linnet, who was sitting in a willow-tree hard by, and had overheard the conversation.

Yes, that is just what I want to know, said the Duck; and she swam away to the end of the pond, and stood upon her head, in order to give her children a good example.

What a silly question! cried the Water-rat. I should expect my devoted friend to be devoted to me, of course.

And what would you do in return? said the little bird, swinging upon a silver spray, and flapping his tiny wings.

I dont understand you, answered the Water-rat.

Let me tell you a story on the subject, said the Linnet.

Is the story about me? asked the Water-rat. If so, I will listen to it, for I am extremely fond of fiction.

It is applicable to you, answered the Linnet; and he flew down, and alighting upon the bank, he told the story of The Devoted Friend.

Once upon a time, said the Linnet, there was an honest little fellow named Hans.

Was he very distinguished? asked the Water-rat.

No, answered the Linnet, I dont think he was distinguished at all, except for his kind heart, and his funny round good-humoured face. He lived in a tiny cottage all by himself, and every day he worked in his garden. In all the country-side there was no garden so lovely as his. Sweet-william grew there, and Gilly-flowers, and Shepherds-purses, and Fair-maids of France. There were damask Roses, and yellow Roses, lilac Crocuses, and gold, purple Violets and white. Columbine and Ladysmock, Marjoram and Wild Basil, the Cowslip and the Flower-de-luce, the Daffodil and the Clove-Pink bloomed or blossomed in their proper order as the months went by, one flower taking another flowers place, so that there were always beautiful things to look at, and pleasant odours to smell.

Little Hans had a great many friends, but the most devoted friend of all was big Hugh the Miller. Indeed, so devoted was the rich Miller to little Hans, that be would never go by his garden without leaning over the wall and plucking a large nosegay, or a handful of sweet herbs, or filling his pockets with plums and cherries if it was the fruit season.

Real friends should have everything in common, the Miller used to say, and little Hans nodded and smiled, and felt very proud of having a friend with such noble ideas.

Sometimes, indeed, the neighbours thought it strange that the rich Miller

never gave little Hans anything in return, though he had a hundred sacks of flour stored away in his mill, and six milch cows, and a large flock of woolly sheep; but Hans never troubled his head about these things, and nothing gave him greater pleasure than to listen to all the wonderful things the Miller used to say about the unselfishness of true friendship.

So little Hans worked away in his garden. During the spring, the summer, and the autumn he was very happy, but when the winter came, and he had no fruit or flowers to bring to the market, he suffered a good deal from cold and hunger, and often had to go to bed without any supper but a few dried pears or some hard nuts. In the winter, also, he was extremely lonely, as the Miller never came to see him then.

There is no good in my going to see little Hans as long as the snow lasts, the Miller used to say to his wife, for when people are in trouble they should be left alone, and not be bothered by visitors. That at least is my idea about friendship, and I am sure I am right. So I shall wait till the spring comes, and then I shall pay him a visit, and he will be able to give me a large basket of primroses and that will make him so happy.

You are certainly very thoughtful about others, answered the Wife, as she sat in her comfortable armchair by the big pinewood fire; very thoughtful indeed. It is quite a treat to hear you talk about friendship. I am sure the clergyman himself could not say such beautiful things as you do, though he does live in a three-storied house, and wear a gold ring on his little finger.

But could we not ask little Hans up here? said the Millers youngest son. If poor Hans is in trouble I will give him half my porridge, and show him my white rabbits.

What a silly boy you are! cried the Miller; I really dont know what is the use of sending you to school. You seem not to learn anything. Why, if little Hans came up here, and saw our warm fire, and our good supper, and our great cask of red wine, he might get envious, and envy is a most terrible thing, and would spoil anybodys nature. I certainly will not allow Hans nature to be spoiled. I am his best friend, and I will always watch over him, and see that he is not led into any temptations. Besides, if Hans came here,

he might ask me to let him have some flour on credit, and that I could not do. Flour is one thing, and friendship is another, and they should not be confused. Why, the words are spelt differently, and mean quite different things. Everybody can see that.

How well you talk! said the Millers Wife, pouring herself out a large glass of warm ale; really I feel quite drowsy. It is just like being in church.

Lots of people act well, answered the Miller; but very few people talk well, which shows that talking is much the more difficult thing of the two, and much the finer thing also; and he looked sternly across the table at his little son, who felt so ashamed of himself that he hung his head down, and grew quite scarlet, and began to cry into his tea. However, he was so young that you must excuse him.

Is that the end of the story? asked the Water-rat.

Certainly not, answered the Linnet, that is the beginning.

Then you are quite behind the age, said the Water-rat. Every good storyteller nowadays starts with the end, and then goes on to the beginning, and concludes with the middle. That is the new method. I heard all about it the other day from a critic who was walking round the pond with a young man. He spoke of the matter at great length, and I am sure he must have been right, for he had blue spectacles and a bald head, and whenever the young man made any remark, he always answered Pooh! But pray go on with your story. I like the Miller immensely. I have all kinds of beautiful sentiments myself, so there is a great sympathy between us.

Well, said the Linnet, hopping now on one leg and now on the other, as soon as the winter was over, and the primroses began to open their pale yellow stars, the Miller said to his wife that he would go down and see little Hans.

Why, what a good heart you have! cried his Wife; you are always thinking of others. And mind you take the big basket with you for the flowers.

So the Miller tied the sails of the windmill together with a strong iron chain, and went down the hill with the basket on his arm.

Good morning, little Hans, said the Miller.

Good morning, said Hans, leaning on his spade, and smiling from ear to ear.

And how have you been all the winter? said the Miller.

Well, really, cried Hans, it is very good of you to ask, very good indeed. I am afraid I had rather a hard time of it, but now the spring has come, and I am quite happy, and all my flowers are doing well.

We often talked of you during the winter, Hans, said the Miller, and wondered how you were getting on.

That was kind of you, said Hans; I was half afraid you had forgotten me.

Hans, I am surprised at you, said the Miller; friendship never forgets. That is the wonderful thing about it, but I am afraid you dont understand the poetry of life. How lovely your primroses are looking, by-the-bye!

They are certainly very lovely, said Hans, and it is a most lucky thing for me that I have so many. I am going to bring them into the market and sell them to the Burgomasters daughter, and buy back my wheelbarrow with the money.

Buy back your wheelbarrow? You dont mean to say you have sold it? What a very stupid thing to do!

Well, the fact is, said Hans, that I was obliged to. You see the winter was a very bad time for me, and I really had no money at all to buy bread with. So I first sold the silver buttons off my Sunday coat, and then I sold my silver chain, and then I sold my big pipe, and at last I sold my wheelbarrow. But I am going to buy them all back again now.

Hans, said the Miller, I will give you my wheelbarrow. It is not in very good repair; indeed, one side is gone, and there is something wrong with the wheel-spokes; but in spite of that I will give it to you. I know it is very generous of me, and a great many people would think me extremely foolish for parting with it, but I am not like the rest of the world. I think that generosity is the essence of friendship, and, besides, I have got a new wheelbarrow for myself. Yes, you may set your mind at ease, I will give you my wheelbarrow.

Well, really, that is generous of you, said little Hans, and his funny round face glowed all over with pleasure. I can easily put it in repair, as I have a plank of wood in the house.

A plank of wood! said the Miller; why, that is just what I want for the roof of my barn. There is a very large hole in it, and the corn will all get damp if I dont stop it up. How lucky you mentioned it! It is quite remarkable how one good action always breeds another. I have given you my wheelbarrow, and now you are going to give me your plank. Of course, the wheelbarrow is worth far more than the plank, but true, friendship never notices things like that. Pray get it at once, and I will set to work at my barn this very day.

Certainly, cried little Hans, and he ran into the shed and dragged the plank out.

It is not a very big plank, said the Miller, looking at it, and I am afraid that after I have mended my barn-roof there wont be any left for you to mend the wheelbarrow with; but, of course, that is not my fault. And now, as I have given you my wheelbarrow, I am sure you would like to give me some flowers in return. Here is the basket, and mind you fill it quite full.

Quite full? said little Hans, rather sorrowfully, for it was really a very big basket, and he knew that if he filled it he would have no flowers left for the market and he was very anxious to get his silver buttons back.

Well, really, answered the Miller, as I have given you my wheelbarrow, I dont think that it is much to ask you for a few flowers. I may be wrong, but I should have thought that friendship, true friendship, was quite free from selfishness of any kind.

My dear friend, my best friend, cried little Hans, you are welcome to all the flowers in my garden. I would much sooner have your good opinion than my silver buttons, any day; and he ran and plucked all his pretty primroses, and filled the Millers basket.

Good-bye, little Hans, said the Miller, as he went up the hill with the plank on his shoulder, and the big basket in his hand.

Good-bye, said little Hans, and he began to dig away quite merrily, he was so pleased about the wheelbarrow.

The next day he was nailing up some honeysuckle against the porch, when he heard the Millers voice calling to him from the road. So he jumped off the ladder, and ran down the garden, and looked over the wall.

There was the Miller with a large sack of flour on his back.

Dear little Hans, said the Miller, would you mind carrying this sack of flour for me to market?

Oh, I am so sorry, said Hans, but I am really very busy to-day. I have got all my creepers to nail up, and all my flowers to water, and all my grass to roll.

Well, really, said the Miller, I think that, considering that I am going to give you my wheelbarrow, it is rather unfriendly of you to refuse.

Oh, dont say that, cried little Hans, I wouldnt be unfriendly for the whole world; and he ran in for his cap, and trudged off with the big sack on his shoulders.

It was a very hot day, and the road was terribly dusty, and before Hans had reached the sixth milestone he was so tired that he had to sit down and rest. However, he went on bravely, and as last he reached the market. After he had waited there some time, he sold the sack of flour for a very good price, and then he returned home at once, for he was afraid that if he stopped too late he might meet some robbers on the way.

It has certainly been a hard day, said little Hans to himself as he was going to bed, but I am glad I did not refuse the Miller, for he is my best friend, and, besides, he is going to give me his wheelbarrow.

Early the next morning the Miller came down to get the money for his sack of flour, but little Hans was so tired that he was still in bed.

Upon my word, said the Miller, you are very lazy. Really, considering that I am going to give you my wheelbarrow, I think you might work harder. Idleness is a great sin, and I certainly dont like any of my friends to be idle or sluggish. You must not mind my speaking quite plainly to you. Of course I should not dream of doing so if I were not your friend. But what is the good of friendship if one cannot say exactly what one means? Anybody can say

charming things and try to please and to flatter, but a true friend always says unpleasant things, and does not mind giving pain. Indeed, if he is a really true friend he prefers it, for he knows that then he is doing good.

I am very sorry, said little Hans, rubbing his eyes and pulling off his nightcap, but I was so tired that I thought I would lie in bed for a little time, and listen to the birds singing. Do you know that I always work better after hearing the birds sing?

Well, I am glad of that, said the Miller, clapping little Hans on the back, for I want you to come up to the mill as soon as you are dressed, and mend my barn-roof for me.

Poor little Hans was very anxious to go and work in his garden, for his flowers had not been watered for two days, but he did not like to refuse the Miller, as he was such a good friend to him.

Do you think it would be unfriendly of me if I said I was busy? he inquired in a shy and timid voice.

Well, really, answered the Miller, I do not think it is much to ask of you, considering that I am going to give you my wheelbarrow; but of course if you refuse I will go and do it myself.

Oh! on no account, cried little Hans and he jumped out of bed, and dressed himself, and went up to the barn.

He worked there all day long, till sunset, and at sunset the Miller came to see how he was getting on.

Have you mended the hole in the roof yet, little Hans? cried the Miller in a cheery voice.

It is quite mended, answered little Hans, coming down the ladder.

Ah! said the Miller, there is no work so delightful as the work one does for others.

It is certainly a great privilege to hear you talk, answered little Hans, sitting down, and wiping his forehead, a very great privilege. But I am afraid I shall never have such beautiful ideas as you have.

Oh! they will come to you, said the Miller, but you must take more pains. At present you have only the practice of friendship; some day you will have the theory also.

Do you really think I shall? asked little Hans.

I have no doubt of it, answered the Miller, but now that you have mended the roof, you had better go home and rest, for I want you to drive my sheep to the mountain to-morrow.

Poor little Hans was afraid to say anything to this, and early the next morning the Miller brought his sheep round to the cottage, and Hans started off with them to the mountain. It took him the whole day to get there and back; and when he returned he was so tired that he went off to sleep in his chair, and did not wake up till it was broad daylight.

What a delightful time I shall have in my garden, he said, and he went to work at once.

But somehow he was never able to look after his flowers at all, for his friend the Miller was always coming round and sending him off on long errands, or

getting him to help at the mill. Little Hans was very much distressed at times, as he was afraid his flowers would think he had forgotten them, but he consoled himself by the reflection that the Miller was his best friend. Besides, he used to say, he is going to give me his wheelbarrow, and that is an act of pure generosity.

So little Hans worked away for the Miller, and the Miller said all kinds of beautiful things about friendship, which Hans took down in a note-book, and used to read over at night, for he was a very good scholar.

Now it happened that one evening little Hans was sitting by his fireside when a loud rap came at the door. It was a very wild night, and the wind was blowing and roaring round the house so terribly that at first he thought it was merely the storm. But a second rap came, and then a third, louder than any of the others.

It is some poor traveller, said little Hans to himself, and he ran to the door.

There stood the Miller with a lantern in one hand and a big stick in the other.

Dear little Hans, cried the Miller, I am in great trouble. My little boy has fallen off a ladder and hurt himself, and I am going for the Doctor. But he lives so far away, and it is such a bad night, that it has just occurred to me that it would be much better if you went instead of me. You know I am going to give you my wheelbarrow, and so, it is only fair that you should do something for me in return.

Certainly, cried little Hans, I take it quite as a compliment your coming to me, and I will start off at once. But you must lend me your lantern, as the night is so dark that I am afraid I might fall into the ditch.

I am very sorry, answered the Miller, but it is my new lantern, and it would be a great loss to me if anything happened to it.

Well, never mind, I will do without it, cried little Hans, and he took down his great fur coat, and his warm scarlet cap, and tied a muffler round his throat, and started off.

What a dreadful storm it was! The night was so black that little Hans could hardly see, and the wind was so strong that he could scarcely stand. However, he was very courageous, and after he had been walking about three hours, he arrived at the Doctors house, and knocked at the door.

Who is there? cried the Doctor, putting his head out of his bedroom window.

Little Hans, Doctor.

What do you want, little Hans?

The Millers son has fallen from a ladder, and has hurt himself, and the Miller wants you to come at once.

All right! said the Doctor; and he ordered his horse, and his big boots, and his lantern, and came downstairs, and rode off in the direction of the Millers house, little Hans trudging behind him.

But the storm grew worse and worse, and the rain fell in torrents, and little Hans could not see where he was going, or keep up with the horse. At last he lost his way, and wandered off on the moor, which was a very dangerous place, as it was full of deep holes, and there poor little Hans was drowned. His body was found the next day by some goatherds, floating in a great pool of water, and was brought back by them to the cottage.

Everybody went to little Hans funeral, as he was so popular, and the Miller was the chief mourner.

As I was his best friend, said the Miller, it is only fair that I should have the best place; so he walked at the head of the procession in a long black cloak, and every now and then he wiped his eyes with a big pocket-handkerchief.

Little Hans is certainly a great loss to every one, said the Blacksmith, when the funeral was over, and they were all seated comfortably in the inn, drinking spiced wine and eating sweet cakes.

A great loss to me at any rate, answered the Miller; why, I had as good as given him my wheelbarrow, and now I really dont know what to do with it. It is very much in my way at home, and it is in such bad repair that I could not get anything for it if I sold it. I will certainly take care not to give away anything again. One always suffers for being generous.

Well? said the Water-rat, after a long pause.

Well, that is the end, said the Linnet.

But what became of the Miller? asked the Water-rat.

Oh! I really dont know, replied the Linnet; and I am sure that I dont care.

It is quite evident then that you have no sympathy in your nature, said the Water-rat.

I am afraid you dont quite see the moral of the story, remarked the Linnet.

The what? screamed the Water-rat.

The moral.

Do you mean to say that the story has a moral?

Certainly, said the Linnet.

Well, really, said the Water-rat, in a very angry manner, I think you should have told me that before you began. If you had done so, I certainly would not have listened to you; in fact, I should have said Pooh, like the critic. However, I can say it now; so he shouted out Pooh at the top of his voice, gave a whisk with his tail, and went back into his hole.

And how do you like the Water-rat? asked the Duck, who came paddling up some minutes afterwards. He has a great many good points, but for my own part I have a mothers feelings, and I can never look at a confirmed bachelor without the tears coming into my eyes.

I am rather afraid that I have annoyed him, answered the Linnet. The fact is, that I told him a story with a moral.

Ah! that is always a very dangerous thing to do, said the Duck.

And I quite agree with her.

THE REMARKABLE ROCKET

The Kings son was going to be married, so there were general rejoicings. He had waited a whole year for his bride, and at last she had arrived. She was a Russian Princess, and had driven all the way from Finland in a sledge drawn by six reindeer. The sledge was shaped like a great golden swan, and between the swans wings lay the little Princess herself. Her long erminecloak reached right down to her feet, on her head was a tiny cap of silver tissue, and she was as pale as the Snow Palace in which she had always lived. So pale was she that as she drove through the streets all the people wondered. She is like a white rose! they cried, and they threw down flowers on her from the balconies.

At the gate of the Castle the Prince was waiting to receive her. He had dreamy violet eyes, and his hair was like fine gold. When he saw her he sank upon one knee, and kissed her hand.

Your picture was beautiful, he murmured, but you are more beautiful than your picture; and the little Princess blushed.

She was like a white rose before, said a young Page to his neighbour, but she is like a red rose now; and the whole Court was delighted.

For the next three days everybody went about saying, White rose, Red rose, Red rose, White rose; and the King gave orders that the Pages salary was to be doubled. As he received no salary at all this was not of much use to him, but it was considered a great honour, and was duly published in the Court Gazette.

When the three days were over the marriage was celebrated. It was a magnificent ceremony, and the bride and bridegroom walked hand in hand under a canopy of purple velvet embroidered with little pearls. Then there

was a State Banquet, which lasted for five hours. The Prince and Princess sat at the top of the Great Hall and drank out of a cup of clear crystal. Only true lovers could drink out of this cup, for if false lips touched it, it grew grey and dull and cloudy.

Its quite clear that they love each other, said the little Page, as clear as crystal! and the King doubled his salary a second time. What an honour! cried all the courtiers.

After the banquet there was to be a Ball. The bride and bridegroom were to dance the Rose-dance together, and the King had promised to play the flute. He played very badly, but no one had ever dared to tell him so, because he was the King. Indeed, he knew only two airs, and was never quite certain which one he was playing; but it made no matter, for, whatever he did, everybody cried out, Charming! charming!

The last item on the programme was a grand display of fireworks, to be let off exactly at midnight. The little Princess had never seen a firework in her life, so the King had given orders that the Royal Pyrotechnist should be in attendance on the day of her marriage.

What are fireworks like? she had asked the Prince, one morning, as she was walking on the terrace.

They are like the Aurora Borealis, said the King, who always answered questions that were addressed to other people, only much more natural. I prefer them to stars myself, as you always know when they are going to appear, and they are as delightful as my own flute-playing. You must certainly see them.

So at the end of the Kings garden a great stand had been set up, and as soon as the Royal Pyrotechnist had put everything in its proper place, the fireworks began to talk to each other.

The world is certainly very beautiful, cried a little Squib. Just look at those yellow tulips. Why! if they were real crackers they could not be lovelier. I am very glad I have travelled. Travel improves the mind wonderfully, and does away with all ones prejudices.

The Kings garden is not the world, you foolish squib, said a big Roman Candle; the world is an enormous place, and it would take you three days to see it thoroughly.

Any place you love is the world to you, exclaimed a pensive Catherine Wheel, who had been attached to an old deal box in early life, and prided herself on her broken heart; but love is not fashionable any more, the poets have killed it. They wrote so much about it that nobody believed them, and I am not surprised. True love suffers, and is silent. I remember myself once But it is no matter now. Romance is a thing of the past.

Nonsense! said the Roman Candle, Romance never dies. It is like the moon, and lives for ever. The bride and bridegroom, for instance, love each other very dearly. I heard all about them this morning from a brown-paper cartridge, who happened to be staying in the same drawer as myself, and knew the latest Court news.

But the Catherine Wheel shook her head. Romance is dead, Romance is dead, Romance is dead, she murmured. She was one of those people who think that, if you say the same thing over and over a great many times, it becomes true in the end.

Suddenly, a sharp, dry cough was heard, and they all looked round.

It came from a tall, supercilious-looking Rocket, who was tied to the end of a long stick. He always coughed before he made any observation, so as to attract attention.

Ahem! ahem! he said, and everybody listened except the poor Catherine

Wheel, who was still shaking her head, and murmuring, Romance is dead.

Order! order! cried out a Cracker. He was something of a politician, and had always taken a prominent part in the local elections, so he knew the proper Parliamentary expressions to use.

Quite dead, whispered the Catherine Wheel, and she went off to sleep.

As soon as there was perfect silence, the Rocket coughed a third time and began. He spoke with a very slow, distinct voice, as if he was dictating his memoirs, and always looked over the shoulder of the person to whom he was talking. In fact, he had a most distinguished manner.

How fortunate it is for the Kings son, he remarked, that he is to be married on the very day on which I am to be let off. Really, if it had been arranged beforehand, it could not have turned out better for him; but, Princes are always lucky.

Dear me! said the little Squib, I thought it was quite the other way, and that we were to be let off in the Princes honour.

It may be so with you, he answered; indeed, I have no doubt that it is, but with me it is different. I am a very remarkable Rocket, and come of remarkable parents. My mother was the most celebrated Catherine Wheel of her day, and was renowned for her graceful dancing. When she made her great public appearance she spun round nineteen times before she went out, and each time that she did so she threw into the air seven pink stars. She was three feet and a half in diameter, and made of the very best gunpowder. My father was a Rocket like myself, and of French extraction. He flew so high that the people were afraid that he would never come down again. He did, though, for he was of a kindly disposition, and he made a most brilliant descent in a shower of golden rain. The newspapers wrote about his performance in very flattering terms. Indeed, the Court Gazette called him a triumph of Pylotechnic art.

Pyrotechnic, Pyrotechnic, you mean, said a Bengal Light; I know it is Pyrotechnic, for I saw it written on my own canister.

Well, I said Pylotechnic, answered the Rocket, in a severe tone of voice, and the Bengal Light felt so crushed that he began at once to bully the little squibs, in order to show that he was still a person of some importance.

I was saying, continued the Rocket, I was sayingWhat was I saying?

You were talking about yourself, replied the Roman Candle.

Of course; I knew I was discussing some interesting subject when I was so rudely interrupted. I hate rudeness and bad manners of every kind, for I am extremely sensitive. No one in the whole world is so sensitive as I am, I am quite sure of that.

What is a sensitive person? said the Cracker to the Roman Candle.

A person who, because he has corns himself, always treads on other peoples toes, answered the Roman Candle in a low whisper; and the Cracker nearly exploded with laughter.

Pray, what are you laughing at? inquired the Rocket; I am not laughing.

I am laughing because I am happy, replied the Cracker.

That is a very selfish reason, said the Rocket angrily. What right have you to be happy? You should be thinking about others. In fact, you should be thinking about me. I am always thinking about myself, and I expect

everybody else to do the same. That is what is called sympathy. It is a beautiful virtue, and I possess it in a high degree. Suppose, for instance, anything happened to me to-night, what a misfortune that would be for every one! The Prince and Princess would never be happy again, their whole married life would be spoiled; and as for the King, I know he would not get over it. Really, when I begin to reflect on the importance of my position, I am almost moved to tears.

If you want to give pleasure to others, cried the Roman Candle, you had better keep yourself dry.

Certainly, exclaimed the Bengal Light, who was now in better spirits; that is only common sense.

Common sense, indeed! said the Rocket indignantly; you forget that I am very uncommon, and very remarkable. Why, anybody can have common sense, provided that they have no imagination. But I have imagination, for I never think of things as they really are; I always think of them as being quite different. As for keeping myself dry, there is evidently no one here who can at all appreciate an emotional nature. Fortunately for myself, I dont care. The only thing that sustains one through life is the consciousness of the immense inferiority of everybody else, and this is a feeling that I have always cultivated. But none of you have any hearts. Here you are laughing and making merry just as if the Prince and Princess had not just been married.

Well, really, exclaimed a small Fire-balloon, why not? It is a most joyful occasion, and when I soar up into the air I intend to tell the stars all about it. You will see them twinkle when I talk to them about the pretty bride.

Ah! what a trivial view of life! said the Rocket; but it is only what I expected. There is nothing in you; you are hollow and empty. Why, perhaps the Prince and Princess may go to live in a country where there is a deep river, and perhaps they may have one only son, a little fair-haired boy with violet eyes like the Prince himself; and perhaps some day he may go out to walk with his nurse; and perhaps the nurse may go to sleep under a great elder-tree; and perhaps the little boy may fall into the deep river and be drowned. What a terrible misfortune! Poor people, to lose their only son! It

is really too dreadful! I shall never get over it.

But they have not lost their only son, said the Roman Candle; no misfortune has happened to them at all.

I never said that they had, replied the Rocket; I said that they might. If they had lost their only son there would be no use in saying anything more about the matter. I hate people who cry over spilt milk. But when I think that they might lose their only son, I certainly am very much affected.

You certainly are! cried the Bengal Light. In fact, you are the most affected person I ever met.

You are the rudest person I ever met, said the Rocket, and you cannot understand my friendship for the Prince.

Why, you dont even know him, growled the Roman Candle.

I never said I knew him, answered the Rocket. I dare say that if I knew him I should not be his friend at all. It is a very dangerous thing to know ones friends.

You had really better keep yourself dry, said the Fire-balloon. That is the important thing.

Very important for you, I have no doubt, answered the Rocket, but I shall weep if I choose; and he actually burst into real tears, which flowed down his stick like rain-drops, and nearly drowned two little beetles, who were just thinking of setting up house together, and were looking for a nice dry spot to live in.

He must have a truly romantic nature, said the Catherine Wheel, for he weeps when there is nothing at all to weep about; and she heaved a deep sigh, and thought about the deal box.

But the Roman Candle and the Bengal Light were quite indignant, and kept saying, Humbug! humbug! at the top of their voices. They were extremely practical, and whenever they objected to anything they called it humbug.

Then the moon rose like a wonderful silver shield; and the stars began to shine, and a sound of music came from the palace.

The Prince and Princess were leading the dance. They danced so beautifully that the tall white lilies peeped in at the window and watched them, and the great red poppies nodded their heads and beat time.

Then ten oclock struck, and then eleven, and then twelve, and at the last stroke of midnight every one came out on the terrace, and the King sent for the Royal Pyrotechnist.

Let the fireworks begin, said the King; and the Royal Pyrotechnist made a low bow, and marched down to the end of the garden. He had six attendants with him, each of whom carried a lighted torch at the end of a long pole.

It was certainly a magnificent display.

Whizz! Whizz! went the Catherine Wheel, as she spun round and round. Boom! Boom! went the Roman Candle. Then the Squibs danced all over the place, and the Bengal Lights made everything look scarlet. Good-bye, cried the Fire-balloon, as he soared away, dropping tiny blue sparks. Bang! Bang! answered the Crackers, who were enjoying themselves immensely. Every one was a great success except the Remarkable Rocket. He was so damp with crying that he could not go off at all. The best thing in him was the gunpowder, and that was so wet with tears that it was of no use. All his poor relations, to whom he would never speak, except with a sneer, shot up into

the sky like wonderful golden flowers with blossoms of fire. Huzza! Huzza! cried the Court; and the little Princess laughed with pleasure.

I suppose they are reserving me for some grand occasion, said the Rocket; no doubt that is what it means, and he looked more supercilious than ever.

The next day the workmen came to put everything tidy. This is evidently a deputation, said the Rocket; I will receive them with becoming dignity so he put his nose in the air, and began to frown severely as if he were thinking about some very important subject. But they took no notice of him at all till they were just going away. Then one of them caught sight of him. Hallo! he cried, what a bad rocket! and he threw him over the wall into the ditch.

BAD Rocket? BAD Rocket? he said, as he whirled through the air; impossible! GRAND Rocket, that is what the man said. BAD and GRAND sound very much the same, indeed they often are the same; and he fell into the mud.

It is not comfortable here, he remarked, but no doubt it is some fashionable watering-place, and they have sent me away to recruit my health. My nerves are certainly very much shattered, and I require rest.

Then a little Frog, with bright jewelled eyes, and a green mottled coat, swam up to him.

A new arrival, I see! said the Frog. Well, after all there is nothing like mud. Give me rainy weather and a ditch, and I am quite happy. Do you think it will be a wet afternoon? I am sure I hope so, but the sky is quite blue and cloudless. What a pity!

Ahem! ahem! said the Rocket, and he began to cough.

What a delightful voice you have! cried the Frog. Really it is quite like a croak, and croaking is of course the most musical sound in the world. You will hear our glee-club this evening. We sit in the old duck pond close by the farmers house, and as soon as the moon rises we begin. It is so entrancing that everybody lies awake to listen to us. In fact, it was only yesterday that I heard the farmers wife say to her mother that she could not get a wink of sleep at night on account of us. It is most gratifying to find oneself so popular.

Ahem! ahem! said the Rocket angrily. He was very much annoyed that he could not get a word in.

A delightful voice, certainly, continued the Frog; I hope you will come over to the duck-pond. I am off to look for my daughters. I have six beautiful daughters, and I am so afraid the Pike may meet them. He is a perfect monster, and would have no hesitation in breakfasting off them. Well, goodbye: I have enjoyed our conversation very much, I assure you.

Conversation, indeed! said the Rocket. You have talked the whole time yourself. That is not conversation.

Somebody must listen, answered the Frog, and I like to do all the talking myself. It saves time, and prevents arguments.

But I like arguments, said the Rocket.

I hope not, said the Frog complacently. Arguments are extremely vulgar, for everybody in good society holds exactly the same opinions. Good-bye a second time; I see my daughters in the distance and the little Frog swam away.

You are a very irritating person, said the Rocket, and very ill-bred. I hate people who talk about themselves, as you do, when one wants to talk about oneself, as I do. It is what I call selfishness, and selfishness is a most

detestable thing, especially to any one of my temperament, for I am well known for my sympathetic nature. In fact, you should take example by me; you could not possibly have a better model. Now that you have the chance you had better avail yourself of it, for I am going back to Court almost immediately. I am a great favourite at Court; in fact, the Prince and Princess were married yesterday in my honour. Of course you know nothing of these matters, for you are a provincial.

There is no good talking to him, said a Dragon-fly, who was sitting on the top of a large brown bulrush; no good at all, for he has gone away.

Well, that is his loss, not mine, answered the Rocket. I am not going to stop talking to him merely because he pays no attention. I like hearing myself talk. It is one of my greatest pleasures. I often have long conversations all by myself, and I am so clever that sometimes I dont understand a single word of what I am saying.

Then you should certainly lecture on Philosophy, said the Dragon-fly; and he spread a pair of lovely gauze wings and soared away into the sky.

How very silly of him not to stay here! said the Rocket. I am sure that he has not often got such a chance of improving his mind. However, I dont care a bit. Genius like mine is sure to be appreciated some day; and he sank down a little deeper into the mud.

After some time a large White Duck swam up to him. She had yellow legs, and webbed feet, and was considered a great beauty on account of her waddle.

Quack, quack, quack, she said. What a curious shape you are! May I ask were you born like that, or is it the result of an accident?

It is quite evident that you have always lived in the country, answered the Rocket, otherwise you would know who I am. However, I excuse your

ignorance. It would be unfair to expect other people to be as remarkable as oneself. You will no doubt be surprised to hear that I can fly up into the sky, and come down in a shower of golden rain.

I dont think much of that, said the Duck, as I cannot see what use it is to any one. Now, if you could plough the fields like the ox, or draw a cart like the horse, or look after the sheep like the collie-dog, that would be something.

My good creature, cried the Rocket in a very haughty tone of voice, I see that you belong to the lower orders. A person of my position is never useful. We have certain accomplishments, and that is more than sufficient. I have no sympathy myself with industry of any kind, least of all with such industries as you seem to recommend. Indeed, I have always been of opinion that hard work is simply the refuge of people who have nothing whatever to do.

Well, well, said the Duck, who was of a very peaceable disposition, and never quarrelled with any one, everybody has different tastes. I hope, at any rate, that you are going to take up your residence here.

Oh! dear no, cried the Rocket. I am merely a visitor, a distinguished visitor. The fact is that I find this place rather tedious. There is neither society here, nor solitude. In fact, it is essentially suburban. I shall probably go back to Court, for I know that I am destined to make a sensation in the world.

I had thoughts of entering public life once myself, remarked the Duck; there are so many things that need reforming. Indeed, I took the chair at a meeting some time ago, and we passed resolutions condemning everything that we did not like. However, they did not seem to have much effect. Now I go in for domesticity, and look after my family.

I am made for public life, said the Rocket, and so are all my relations, even the humblest of them. Whenever we appear we excite great attention. I have not actually appeared myself, but when I do so it will be a magnificent

sight. As for domesticity, it ages one rapidly, and distracts ones mind from higher things.

Ah! the higher things of life, how fine they are! said the Duck; and that reminds me how hungry I feel: and she swam away down the stream, saying, Quack, quack, quack.

Come back! come back! screamed the Rocket, I have a great deal to say to you; but the Duck paid no attention to him. I am glad that she has gone, he said to himself, she has a decidedly middle-class mind; and he sank a little deeper still into the mud, and began to think about the loneliness of genius, when suddenly two little boys in white smocks came running down the bank, with a kettle and some faggots.

This must be the deputation, said the Rocket, and he tried to look very dignified.

Hallo! cried one of the boys, look at this old stick! I wonder how it came here; and he picked the rocket out of the ditch.

OLD Stick! said the Rocket, impossible! GOLD Stick, that is what he said. Gold Stick is very complimentary. In fact, he mistakes me for one of the Court dignitaries!

Let us put it into the fire! said the other boy, it will help to boil the kettle.

So they piled the faggots together, and put the Rocket on top, and lit the fire.

This is magnificent, cried the Rocket, they are going to let me off in broad day-light, so that every one can see me.

We will go to sleep now, they said, and when we wake up the kettle will be boiled; and they lay down on the grass, and shut their eyes.

The Rocket was very damp, so he took a long time to burn. At last, however, the fire caught him.

Now I am going off! he cried, and he made himself very stiff and straight. I know I shall go much higher than the stars, much higher than the moon, much higher than the sun. In fact, I shall go so high that

Fizz! Fizz! Fizz! and he went straight up into the air.

Delightful! he cried, I shall go on like this for ever. What a success I am!

But nobody saw him.

Then he began to feel a curious tingling sensation all over him.

Now I am going to explode, he cried. I shall set the whole world on fire, and make such a noise that nobody will talk about anything else for a whole year. And he certainly did explode. Bang! Bang! Bang! went the gunpowder. There was no doubt about it.

But nobody heard him, not even the two little boys, for they were sound asleep.

Then all that was left of him was the stick, and this fell down on the back of a Goose who was taking a walk by the side of the ditch.

Good heavens! cried the Goose. It is going to rain sticks; and she rushed into the water.

I knew I should create a great sensation, gasped the Rocket, and he went out.