And thus the brave grenadier became a king, and with Mirabel by his side, ruled over the Golden Plain for many a long and happy year.
THE PALACE OF THE NIGHT
Once upon a time there was an Emperor of the Isles, who had but one son, the Prince Porphyrio. On the day which beheld the Prince’s coming of age, the Emperor summoned the youth to his council chamber, and said to him:—
“Dear son, when you were a little child, I pledged to you the hand of the Lady Liria, daughter of my friend and ally, the Emperor of the Plain. You are now of age, and I would fain send you forth to find the Princess and win her for your own.”
Then replied the tall, golden-haired Prince, “Dear father, give me but a brave ship and a gallant crew, and I will this very eve set sail for the Emperor’s city and greet the Lady Liria.”
Pleased with this speech, the Emperor gave orders that a fine ship be swiftly prepared for the voyage. And this was done.
And now it was night, and the vessel lay waiting, her sails gleaming green-white in the moonlight, her ladder shrouds gently swaying against the pale and starry sky. When came the ebb of the midnight tide, the anchors were weighed, the great sails trimmed to the breeze, and the vessel piloted forth to the measureless plain of the sea.
Now it came to pass, as the great ship sped upon her furrowed way, that Porphyrio took it into his head to visit the Fair of the Golden Bear, and fled before the wind to the festival city. Little by little—for the air was but light—the ship left behind her the blue of the deeps, and entered the green waters of the shallows. Suddenly there was a cry of “Land Ho!” and from afar, over the landward hastening waves, Porphyrio beheld the great tower of the Fair. A giant golden image of a bear, standing erect, crowned the high tower-top, and shone dully bright above the haze.
At sundown the Prince, accompanied by his mariners, found himself in the midst of the great Fair, in the very heart of the din, the medley of outlandish costumes, the babel of strange tongues, and the shrill cries of the shopmen and the merchants. Surely there was never such a market place as the Fair of the Golden Bear!
Everything in the world was there to be bought and sold. At one booth a venerable man in a scholar’s gown and velvet cap sold words—rare words, rich words, strange words, beautiful words, and drove a brisk trade with a crowd of poets and lovers; at another an old woman in green sold rosy glasses to those who were at outs with the world; and at still another a joyous fellow in blue offered sunbeams, which he had caught in a mirror and imprisoned in bits of magic glass.