The Sleeping Beauty

by C. S. Evans

Then the Prince went out into the great hall and saw the courtiers asleep in the window alcoves, or stretched out upon the polished floor. Everywhere was a silence so profound that the Prince was almost alarmed to hear his own breathing, and the beating of his heart sounded like a muffled drum. On and on he went, through rooms and corridors, up staircases and down staircases, into the Queen's chamber where he saw the Queen and her ladies as still and silent as the rest; one of those ladies had been reading to the Queen at the moment when the charmed sleep fell upon the castle, and the book, a History of Troy, still lay open on her lap. Then the Prince went into the King's room where his Majesty sat with his ministers of state round the Council board. He almost lingered there, for it was very curious to see those nobles as quiet and motionless as though they had been waxworks in a show. Some of them were frowning as though in deep thought, and some smiling as though they had suddenly remembered something clever to say. The King himself, at the head of the Council table, had evidently fallen asleep in the very midst of a speech, for his arm lay outstretched on the table with pointing finger, and, by his side, his secretary's fingers still held the pen with which he was inscribing on a roll of parchment the royal words.

So the Prince hurried through the castle from top to bottom until he had glanced into every room and opened every door. And still he knew that there was something more to see, for nowhere had he come across the sleeping Princess. Many maidens he had seen of surpassing beauty, but his heart told him that none of them all was the maiden whom he had come to awaken.

Down he went into the courtyard again and found another stairway which led to the battlements. There stood the watchmen whose duty it was to look out over the country and report the arrival of travellers, but they, too, were all asleep, though one of them had his horn in his hand as though he had been about to blow it when he was suddenly overcome by the charmed slumber.

From the battlements the Prince climbed, in turn, into each of the turrets, but there was nobody in them at all, and no living thing except the owls asleep in the crevices of the walls, and the bats that hung head downward from the rafters. Now only one small turret remained to be explored. It was the oldest of the turrets, almost a ruin, and plainly long unused, for the iron door was rusty and the ivy trailed about the walls.

The Prince approached it with a beating heart, for there he knew he should find what he sought. He threw open the creaking door; with impatient feet he mounted the crazy, winding stair, opened the door at the top and entered a little dark room.

And then—and then he started forward with a cry of joy and wonder, for lying on the couch below the narrow window he saw the Princess.

She was lying upon a couch with her lovely hair spread out like a stream of gold; and, oh! no words can tell how beautiful she was. Softly the Prince came near and bent over her. He touched her hand; it was warm as in life, but she did not stir. No sound of breathing came from her parted lips, fresh and sweet as the petals of a rose; her eyes were closed.

For a long time the Prince stood and gazed upon her, for never in all his life had he seen a maiden so lovely. Then suddenly he bent down and kissed her lips.

That was the end of the enchantment. The Princess's eyelids quivered; languidly she moved her head and stretched out her arms. Her eyes opened and she smiled.