Fairies I Have Met

by Mrs. Rodolph Stawell

So while the maids were still talking she slipped out of the castle, and through the wood, and down the hill, till she came to the dark cave. Her long frock caught on the brambles as she went, and her hands were a good deal scratched, and once she tripped and fell. But of course she did not mind anything of that kind, because she was thinking all the time about the nightingale.

Agatha walked into the cave without knocking, and found the Magician at home. I dare say you know that all good Magicians have kind faces and long white beards. This one was a good Magician, so he had a kind face and a long white beard. Agatha was not in the least afraid of him. She told him at once why she had come.

"Please," she said, "I want to be a nightingale."

"A nightingale, my dear?" said the Wise Man. "That is a very strange thing for you to want to be! Don't you know that the nightingale is the Bird of Shadows, who sings by night and is very sad?"

"I shouldn't mind that a bit," said Agatha, "if I could only fly about and sing with a beautiful voice."

"Well, then," said the Wise Man, "if you don't mind being sad, this is what you must do. Every day you must come here to see me, and each time you must bring me one of the pearls from your necklace."

Agatha clasped her hands tightly round her neck, as if to save her pearls. She wore them in a chain, and the chain was so long that it passed twice round her neck and then fell in a loop that reached nearly to her waist.

"Oh, must it be my pearls?" she asked eagerly. "Would nothing else do instead? I have some very nice things at home—really nice things. I have some lovely toys, and a gold chain, and a pony, and—oh, lots of things. Wouldn't you like some of those?"

"No," said the Wise Man, "I must have the pearls if you want to fly about and sing with a beautiful voice. Nothing else will do. For every pearl you bring me I will give you a feather from the nightingale, the Bird of Shadows."

Agatha went home slowly, still clasping her pearls tightly in her hands. She liked them better than anything she had. She liked to watch the soft lights and shades on them, and to think of the wonderful sea they came from. She did not feel sure that it was worth while to give them up, even for the sake of being a bird and learning to sing.