Legends from River & Mountain

by Carmen Sylva; Alma Strettell

But the dwarfs, who had heard the fearful crash overhead, now climbed painfully forth from the recesses of the mountain to see whether their roof were in danger. And so they discovered the vast heap of precious stones of which the palace had been built, and began in great glee to collect this costly treasure, and to drag it down into the fastnesses of the mountain, where they heaped it up in their mighty vaults. Thus they came upon poor Jonel, and since there was still some life left in him, and he was so fair to look upon—far more so, certainly, than any of themselves—they dragged him down too, with much trouble, and laid him upon a couch of their softest moss. They drew water from both hot and cold springs, washed and bathed him, and then carried him to the great underground lake that feeds all earthly springs. After they had plunged him once into those waters he awoke healed of all pain, and looked about him in astonishment.

“Where am I?” he exclaimed at last. And well might he be amazed. For above him vaults of shimmering rock rose to giddy heights and were lost in darkness; and at his feet a lake stretched forth, so far, so far, that it seemed as though it must fill up the whole earth within, and it too was lost in dark distance. All around thousands of gnomes were standing, running, or climbing; they wore long beards, and carried lights, some in their girdles, some upon their heads. Countless hosts of them were busy carrying jewels to the lake, washing them in its water—whereby their radiance was greatly enhanced—and storing and arranging them in chambers or upon heaps. Many of the gnomes came in upon rafts, bringing treasure of hitherto unknown stones with them; others loaded up rafts for a far voyage and pushed off from shore.

There was such a stir and din of lights and voices in the great vault that Jonel was fairly bewildered. Yet all seemed to understand their business quite clearly, save those who surrounded him, and they did not appear to know what they should do with him. But a sudden longing seized him to journey away into the unknown, dark distance, and he hurried towards a raft that was just about to put off. Then there arose from the waves a beautiful woman; she was as like to Irina as though she had been her sister, and she stretched out her arms towards Jonel. With a great cry of “Irina!” he would have flung himself down to her, but that twenty strong arms held him back, and twenty others as strong began to rain blows upon him. He made resistance, for the beautiful woman still beckoned to him from the water; but his captors would not let go their hold, and even began to stone him in their anger.

Then on a sudden there appeared before him a dwarf who wore a crown upon his head, and who, commanding the others to desist, said, “Thou art mistaken, Jonel; thy bride is not here; she waits for thee in the valley. This is my appointed bride, and for her I have tarried many a long year.” At this an angry look, that yet only enhanced her charm, crossed the fair woman’s face, and with a threatening gesture she dived beneath the waves.

The little king sighed, and Jonel sighed, and all the dwarfs, being good, faithful subjects, sighed too; yet they still held their stones in readiness, lest perchance Jonel should be condemned to die. But the king gazed pityingly at the goodly shepherd-lad, and bade his people wash him once more in the waters of the healing spring, since he was bleeding from many wounds. With youth and beauty thus renewed, he was escorted, by the king’s orders, to the mountain-top where they had found him, and as the little monarch bade him farewell he added, “Thou art surely to blame, Jonel; thou hast forgotten thy duty for the sake of a fair woman. Thy faithfulness to her is beautiful and great, but thine unfaithfulness to thy duty is greater; and though I may understand the feeling that overmastered thee, I cannot avert the punishment that awaits thee.”

With a heavy heart did Jonel take his stand once more upon the lonely peak, around which the storm was still raging.

Its violence increased with every moment, as though it would fain have cast down the solitary mortal from the height whereon he stood, to dash him into a thousand pieces. Jonel took firm hold of a projection in the rock, and glanced wildly about him, expecting to see new enemies, new dangers and temptations, rise up on every side. He felt as though the storm were crushing him to the earth, as though it were tearing and dragging at his heart, as though he were dying of his agony and grief. He clung yet more closely to the rock, that seemed to reel beneath the pressure.

And amid the raging and the din round about him he caught sounds, now as of many voices, and again as of one voice alone, calling, enticing, threatening; then there was a blare of trumpets, that seemed to cleave his very brain; and suddenly his love for Irina changed into bitter, burning hate, since it was she who with laughing lips had sent him to his death. Yea, he would wait out his time here, unshaken to the end; but in spring he would go down and take leave of her with scorn, for ever! No woman should possess his heart; that should be for his flock alone, the flock he had shamefully forsaken.

Then there rang forth from the rock a deep and mighty voice: “Nay, lad! thou art mine, in my power, irrevocably and for ever!” and in a moment the rock changed into a giant woman’s form, that embraced Jonel with stony arms and kissed him with lips of stone. In horror he strove to free himself from her, and could not. “Who art thou?” he cried. “Have all the powers of hell conspired together against me? Who art thou—unless thou be Velva?”

But the woman had turned to rock again, and through the storm these words echoed: “I am the Spirit of Yearning, and thou art mine—mine the last lips thou shalt ever kiss.”