CHAPTER XXVIII. LITTLE DAYLIGHT
Project Gutenberg EPUB3 edition
MacDonald, George
“Then you can't know what it's like till you do see it.”
“I think you must be a prince,” said the princess.
“Do I look like one?” said the prince.
“I can't quite say that.”
“Then why do you think so?”
“Because you both do what you are told and speak the truth.—Is the sun so very bright?”
“As bright as the lightning.”
“But it doesn't go out like that, does it?”
“Oh, no. It shines like the moon, rises and sets like the moon, is much the same shape as the moon, only so bright that you can't look at it for a moment.”
“But I would look at it,” said the princess.
“But you couldn't,” said the prince.
“But I could,” said the princess.
“Why don't you, then?”
“Because I can't.”
“Why can't you?”
“Because I can't wake. And I never shall wake until——”
Here she hid her face in her hands, turned away, and walked in the slowest, stateliest manner towards the house. The prince ventured to follow her at a little distance, but she turned and made a repellent gesture, which, like a true gentleman-prince, he obeyed at once. He waited a long time, but as she did not come near him again, and as the night had now cleared, he set off at last for the old woman's cottage.
It was long past midnight when he reached it, but, to his surprise, the old woman was paring potatoes at the door. Fairies are fond of doing odd things. Indeed, however they may dissemble, the night is always their day. And so it is with all who have fairy blood in them.
“Why, what are you doing there, this time of the night, mother?” said the prince; for that was the kind way in which any young man in his country would address a woman who was much older than himself.
“Getting your supper ready, my son,” she answered.
“Oh, I don't want any supper,” said the prince.
“Ah! you've seen Daylight,” said she.
“I've seen a princess who never saw it,” said the prince.
“Do you like her?” asked the fairy.
“Oh! don't I?” said the prince. “More than you would believe, mother.”
“A fairy can believe anything that ever was or ever could be,” said the old woman.
“Then are you a fairy?” asked the prince.
“Yes,” said she.
“Then what do you do for things not to believe?” asked the prince.
“There's plenty of them—everything that never was nor ever could be.”
“Plenty, I grant you,” said the prince. “But do you believe there could be a princess who never saw the daylight? Do you believe that now?”
This the prince said, not that he doubted the princess, but that he wanted the fairy to tell him more. She was too old a fairy, however, to be caught so easily.
“Of all people, fairies must not tell secrets. Besides, she's a princess.”
“Well, I'll tell you a secret. I'm a prince.”
“I know that.”
“How do you know it?”
“By the curl of the third eyelash on your left eyelid.”
“Which corner do you count from?”
“That's a secret.”
“Another secret? Well, at least, if I am a prince, there can be no harm in telling me about a princess.”