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The Story Of The Duchess Of Cicogne And Of Monsieur De Boulingrin
by
“Boulingrin,” said the Duchess, “you stink like a tom-cat.”
CHAPTER IV
SEVENTEEN years, day by day, had elapsed since the fairies’ decree. The Princess was as beautiful as a star. The King, Queen, and Court were in residence at the rural palace of Eaux-Perdues. Need I relate what happened then? It is well known how the Princess Aurore, wandering one day through the castle, came to the top of a keep, where, in a garret, she found a dear old woman, all alone, plying her distaff. She had never heard of the King’s regulations, forbidding the use of spindles.
“What are you doing, my good woman?” asked the Princess.
“I am spinning, my dear child,” replied the old woman, who did not recognize her.
“Ah, how pretty it looks,” replied the Princess. “How do you do it? Give it to me, that I may see if I can do it as well.”
No sooner had she picked up the spindle, than she pricked her hand with it, and fell swooning.{*} King Cloche, when he heard that the fairies’ decree had been accomplished, ordered that the sleeping Princess should be placed in the Blue Chamber, on a bed of azure embroidered with silver. Shocked, and full of consternation, the courtiers made ready to weep, practised sighing, and assumed an expression of deep affliction. Intrigues were formed in every direction; it was reported that the King had discharged his Ministers. The blackest calumnies were hatched. It was said that the Duc de La Rochecoupee had concocted a draught to send the Princess to sleep, and that Monsieur de Boulingrin was his accomplice.
* Contes de Perrault, edition Aadre Lefevre, p. 86-108
The Duchess of Cicogne climbed the secret staircase to the chambers of her old friend, whom she found in his night-cap, smiling, for he was reading La Fiancee du roi de Garbe.
Cicogne told him the news, and how the Princess was lying on a blue bed in a state of lethargy.
The Secretary of State listened attentively.
“You do not believe, I hope, my dear friend, that the fairies have anything to do with it?” he said.
For he did not believe in fairies, although three of them, ancient and venerable, had overpowered him with their love and their staves, and had drenched him to the skin in a disgusting liquid, in order to prove their existence to him. The defect of the experimental method pursued by these ladies is that the experiment was addressed to the senses, whose testimony one can always challenge.
“The fairies have had everything to do with it!” cried the Duchess. “The Princess’s accident may have the most unfortunate results for you and for me. People will not fail to attribute it to the incapacity of the Ministers, and possibly to their malevolence. Can one tell how far calumny may reach? You are already accused of niggardliness. According to what is being said, you refused, on my advice, to pay for warders for the young and unfortunate Princess. Worse than that, there are rumours of black magic, of casting spells. The storm has got to be faced. Show yourself, or you are lost!”
“Calumny,” said Boulingrin, “is the curse of this world. It has killed the greatest of men. Whoever honestly serves his King must make up his mind to pay tribute to that crawling, flying horror.”
“Boulingrin,” said Cicogne, “get dressed.” And she snatched off his night-cap, and threw it down by the bed-side.
A few minutes later they were in the antechamber of the apartment in which Aurore was sleeping, and seating themselves on a bench they waited to be introduced.
Now at the news that the decree of the Fates had been accomplished, the fairy Vivien, one of the Princess’s godmothers, repaired in great haste to Eaux-Perdues, and in order that when she awoke her god-daughter should have a Court she touched every one in the castle with her ring. “Governesses, maids of honour, women of the bedchamber, noblemen, officers, grooms of the chamber, cooks, scullions, messengers, guards, beadles, pages, and footmen; she also touched the horses in the stables, the grooms, the great mastiffs in the yard, and little Pouffe, the Princess’s lap-dog, which lay near her upon her bed. The very spits in front of the fire, loaded with pheasants and partridges, went to sleep.”{*}