These words used to distress her mother more, than she could say; and she would shower presents and treasures on her daughter, of flowers and singing-birds, and lovely embroidered dresses—all to make her think of the sunshine and the summer. And for the time they would please the girl, till again she shook her head and murmured—“I want the snow.”
So the years followed each other, till Rose was sixteen. Every winter the Queen had a faint hope, which, however, grew ever fainter and fainter, that the spell was perhaps to be broken. But it was not so. And strange stories got about concerning the Princess—some saying she was a witch in disguise; others that she had no heart or understanding; others that she turned into a bird or some animal during half her life—so that the neighbouring Princes, in spite of her beauty and sweetness, were afraid to ask her in marriage. And this brought new sorrow to her parents. For she was their only child.
“What will become of her after we are dead and gone?” they said. “Who will care for and protect our darling? Who will help her to rule over our nation? No people will remain faithful to a sovereign who is only awake half the year. There will be revolts and rebellion, and our angel Rose may perhaps be put to death, or driven away.”
And they fretted so over this, that the hair of both King and Queen grew white long before its time. But Rose only loved them the more on this account, for she had heard some one say that white hair was like snow; though she kept the fancy to herself, for she knew it troubled the Queen if ever she mentioned the strange, mysterious word.
She was so lovely that painters came from many countries just to see her face, and, if possible, be allowed to make a picture of her. And one of these portraits found its way to the court of a King who was a distant cousin of her father, and who had heard the strange things said of the Princess. He was very angry about it, for he had two sons, and he was afraid of their falling in love with the beautiful face. So he ordered the picture to be destroyed before the elder Prince, who was away on a visit, came home.
But the servant who was to burn the picture thought it such a pity to do so, that he only hid it away in a lumber-room; and thither, as fate would have it, came the younger Prince one day in search of a pet kitten of his sister’s which had strayed away; for he was a Prince of a most kind and amiable nature.
The moment he saw the picture he fell in love with it. He made inquiry, and heard all there was to tell. Then he arrayed himself for a journey, and came to bid his father farewell.
“I go,” he said, “to woo the Princess Rose for my bride.” And in spite of all the king could say he kept firm.
“If she is a witch,” he said, “I would rather perish by her hands than live with any other.”
And amidst tears and lamentations he set out.