About four hundred years after the birth of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, there lived in Hungary a King who was exceedingly handsome. The Hungarians are, as you must know, a very fine race; but this monarch was so remarkably good-looking, that no woman ever cast her eyes upon him without falling in love with him at once. This King had a daughter who was as beautiful a girl as he was handsome a man, and all the kings and princes were anxious to marry her. She had a great choice of suitors, for they flocked to Hungary from the four quarters of the globe. She, however, discarded them all, for she could not find the man of her choice amongst them. Some were too fair, others a shade too dark; the one was too short, the other was tall and lanky. In fact, one batch of kings went off and another came, but with no better success; fair-bearded and blue-eyed emperors were the same to her as negro potentates, she hardly looked upon either.
The King at first was vexed to find his daughter so hard to please, then he grew angry at seeing her throw away so many good chances, and at last he decided that she was to marry the very first man that should come to ask for her hand, fair or dark, yellow or copper-coloured.
The suitor who happened to present himself was a powerful chief of some nomadic tribe. He was not exactly a handsome man, for he was shock-headed, short and squat, with sturdy, muscular limbs, big, broad hands and square feet. As for his face, it was quite flat, with a pug nose, thick lips and sharp teeth. As for his ears, they were canine in their shape, large and hairy.
Though he was not exactly a monster, still the girl refused him, horrified. The man, gloating upon her, said, with a leer, that a time might come when she would lick her chops to have him. Nay, he grinned and showed his dog-like teeth as he uttered this very low expression, rendering it ever so much the more obnoxious by emitting a low canine laugh, something between a whine and a merry bark. The poor Princess shuddered with horror and said she would as lief be wedded to one of her father's curs.
The father now got into a towering passion and asked the Princess why she would not marry, and the damsel, melting into tears, and almost fainting with grief and shame, confessed that she was in love with him—her own father.
Fancy the King's dismay!
He had been bored the whole of his life by all the women, not only of his Court, but of his whole kingdom, who were madly in love with him. Wherever he went there was always a crowd of young girls and old dames, married women and widows, gazing at him as if he had been the moon; grey eyes and green eyes, black eyes and blue eyes, were always staring, ogling or leering at him; and, amidst deep-drawn sighs, he always heard the same words: "Ah! how handsome he is!" His fatal beauty made more ravages amongst the fair sex even than the plague or the small-pox; the cemeteries and lunatic asylums were peopled with his victims. His dreams were haunted by the sighs and cries of these love-sick females. At last he had decided to live in a remote castle, in the midst of a forest, where he would see and be seen by as few women as possible; but even here he could not find rest, his own daughter had not escaped the infection. That was too much for the poor King. He at once banished the Princess, not only from his sight—from his castle—but even from his kingdom. He wished thereby to strike the rest of womankind with terror.
The poor girl, like Cain, wandered alone upon the surface of the earth; bearing her father's curse, she was shunned by everyone who met her; for the Hungarians have ever been loyal to their kings.
She was, however, not quite alone; for as she left the royal palace she was met on her way by an ugly-looking cur, with a shaggy head, a short and squat body, sturdy muscular legs, big paws, a pug nose, sharp white teeth, and huge flapping ears. He was not exactly a fine dog, but he seemed good-natured enough; and as he followed her steps, he looked at her piteously with his little eyes.
She walked about for three days; then, sick at heart, weary and faint, she sank down, ready to die. She was on a lonely highway, with moors all covered with heather on either side; so that she could see nothing but the limitless plain stretching far away in the distance as far as the eye could reach. In that immense waste, with the bright blue sky overhead, and the brown-reddish heath all around, where not a tree, not a shrub, not a rock was to be seen, she walked on and on; but she always seemed to be in the very centre of an unending circle. Then a feeling of terror came over her; the utter loneliness in which she found herself overpowered her. And now the mongrel cur, which had remained behind, came running after her, the poor beast, which at first she had hardly noticed, comforted her; he was now far more than a companion or a protector, he was her only friend.