The Sea-serpent listened to the request of the Mermaids; but they met with no better luck than the Sea-gulls, for he said exactly the same: “Go home and attend to the children.”
Then he retired into the great caves, and would not come out again.
So the Mermaids went home disconsolate. They began to think they might have to give up the hope of finding the Magic Stone.
Of course the Mer-babies heard all that was going on. They discussed the situation, as usual. They did not mean to be left behind in this business, though they were not considered to be of any consequence. It was evidently correct to consult somebody who lived at a distance, and they thought of the Wise White Bear. He was farther off, too, than either the Albatross or the Sea-serpent, for he lived at the north pole; but when he was mentioned the very young Mer-babies for once suggested that it was nearly bedtime, and they found that they were sleepy. Some one whispered that the White Bear ate the poor seals, and the youngest Mer-babies crept into holes in the rocks to rest, they said, while the little Sea-gulls went walking home, one behind the other, right across the sands, without having been called. But the older Mer-babies set off for the north pole.
They arrived home next morning, very tired and very cross. When the sleepy ones who had stayed behind asked what the Wise Bear had said, they would not tell, and for the first time the Mer-babies quarreled. They declared in the end that they would none of them look for the “Philosopher’s ugly Stone ever any more.”
So if the Princess really wanted to marry the Philosopher, that day she lost some of her helpers. But no one knew what she wished, for she never mentioned him. She sat at her window that looked out over the mountains, and she gazed ever outward.
It was the night before her wedding. She had been there all day, and for many days. It was very quiet, and the lamps were lighted. The Eldest Lady-in-Waiting spread out the lovely robes, ready for the morrow, where the Princess might see them; but she never moved nor spoke. As midnight approached she leaned out and let the soft wind blow upon her face.
The hour of midnight was striking from all the belfries, when a great clatter sounded down below in the courtyard. Horses neighed, and men ran about. The Princess leaned more forward, and listened. Then a horseman, whose jewels sparkled in the moonlight, looked up and kissed a hand to her, and she kissed hers to him. It was one minute past midnight, and the morning of her wedding-day! She dropped the curtains and turned to greet the Favorite Lady-in-Waiting, who had come in. The Princess threw her arms round her Lady’s neck to welcome her back, she was so glad and happy.
So it came about that the Prince of the City Over the Mountains was the first to arrive on that eventful morning; for, though through all the rest of the night, and up to the very hour of the wedding, noble Princes and their retinues were received in state by the King, all of them had to be told that they were too late, and most of them rode off again at once. Some who had never seen the Princess, but who had been attracted by reports of her beauty and her stateliness, waited to attend her marriage feast, and to regret that they had not hurried themselves a little more.
As for the Philosopher, who should have been one of the chief persons of interest on that important occasion, no one even thought of him, unless the Princess did. But she looked too well pleased for any one to suppose she missed him—which was fortunate, for he was never heard of any more.