Cinderella Or The Little Glass Slipper
Once upon a time there lived a gentleman who married twice.
His second wife was a widow with two grown-up daughters, both somewhat past their
prime, and this woman would have been the proudest and most overbearing in the
world had not her daughters exactly resembled her with their fine airs and
insolent tempers. The husband, too, had by his first wife a child of his own, a
young daughter, and so good and so gentle that she promised to grow up into the
living image of her dead mother, who had been the most lovable of women.
The wedding festivities were no sooner over than the
stepmother began to show herself in her true colours. She could not endure the
girl's good qualities, which by contrast rendered her own daughters the more
odious. She put her to drudge at the meanest household work, and thus she and
her precious darlings not only wreaked their spite but saved money to buy
themselves dresses and finery. It was the child who scoured the pots and pans,
scrubbed the floors, washed down the stairs, polished the tables, ironed the
linen, darned the stockings, and made the beds. She herself slept at the top of
the house in a garret, upon a wretched straw mattress, while her sisters had
apartments of their own with inlaid floors, beds carved and gilded in the
latest fashion, and mirrors in which they could see themselves from head to
foot.
Yet they were so helpless, or rather they thought it so
menial to do anything for themselves, that had they but a ribbon to tie, or a bow
to adjust, or a bodice to be laced, the child must be sent for. When she came
it was odds that they met her with a storm of abuse, in this fashion: -
' What do you mean, pray, by answering the bell in this
state? Stand before the glass and look at yourself! Look at your hands—faugh!
How can you suppose we should allow you to touch a ribbon, or even come near
us, with such hands? Run downstairs, slut, and put yourself under the kitchen
pump ' —and so on.
‘How can I help it? ' thought the poor little drudge. ‘If I
do not run at once when the bell rings, they scold me for that. Yet they ring—both
of them together sometimes—a minute after setting me to rake out a grate and
sift the ashes. As for looking at myself in the glass, gladly would I do it if
they allowed me one. But they have told me that if I had a glass I should only
waste time in front of it.'
She kept these thoughts to herself, however, and suffered
her ill-usage patiently, not daring to com- plain to her father, who would,
moreover, have joined with the others in chiding her, for he was wholly under
his wife's thumb; and she had enough of chiding already. When she had done her
work she used to creep away to the chimney-corner and seat herself among the
cinders, and from this the house- hold name for her came to be Cinder-slut; but
the younger sister, who was not so ill-tempered as the elder, called her
Cinderella. They were wise in their way to deprive her of a looking-glass; for
in truth, and in spite of her sorry rags, Cinderella was a hundred times more
beautiful than they with all their magnificent dresses.
It happened that the King's son gave a ball, and sent
invitations through the kingdom to every person of quality. Our two misses were
invited among the rest, for they cut a great figure in that part of the country.
Mightily pleased they were to be sure with their cards of invitation, all
printed in gold and stamped with the broad red seal of the Heir Apparent; and
mightily busy they were, dis- cussing what gowns and head-dresses would best
become them. This meant more worry for Cinderella, for it was she who ironed
her sisters' linen, goffered their tucks and frills, pleated their wristbands,
pressed their trimmings of old lace and wrapped them away in tissue paper. A
score of times all this lace, piece by piece, had to be un- wrapped, inspected,
put away again; and after a trying-on, all the linen had to be ironed,
goffered, crimped, or pleated afresh for them. They could talk of nothing but
their ball dresses.
‘For my part,' said the elder, ' I shall wear a velvet
cramoisie trimmed a l’Anglaise ' —for she had a passion for cramoisie, and
could not perceive how ill the colour went with her complexion. ‘I had thought
of cloth-of-gold, but there’s the cost of the underskirt to be considered; and
underskirts seem to grow dearer and dearer in these days. What a relief,' she
went on, ' it must be to have money and not be forced to set one thing against another!
'
‘I,' said the younger, ‘must make shift with my old underskirt;
that is, unless I can wheedle some money out of Papa '—for so, in their
affection, they called their stepfather. ' Cinderella can take out the worst
stains to-morrow with a little eau-de- Cologne. I believe that, if she tries,
she can make it look as good as new; and, at all events, it will give her
something to do instead of wasting an afternoon. I don't pretend that I like
wearing an old underskirt, and I hope to make dear Papa sensible of this; but
against it I shall have the gold-flowered robe, on which I am determined, and
my diamond stomacher, which is somewhat better than the common.'
‘And I, of course,' said the elder, ‘must wear my diamond
spray. If only it had a ruby in the clasp instead of a sapphire! Rubies go so
much better with cramoisie. ... I suppose there is no time now to ask the
jeweller to re-set it with a ruby.'
' But you don't possess a ruby, dear,' murmured her sister,
who did possess one, and had no intention of lending it. ' And, besides,
sapphires suit you so much better! '
They sent for the best milliner they could find, to build
their mob-caps in triple tiers; and for the best hairdresser to arrange their hair;
and their patches were supplied by the shop to which all the Quality went. From
time to time they called up Cinderella to ask her advice, for she had excellent
taste. Cinderella advised them perfectly, and even offered her services to
dress their hair for them on the night of the ball. They accepted gladly
enough.
Whilst she was dressing them one asked her: ‘Cinderella
would you not like to be going to the ball?
Alas! miss,' said
Cinderella, ‘you are making fun of me. It is not for the like of me to be
there.'
'You are right, girl. Folks would laugh indeed to see
Cinder-slut at a ball!
'Any one but Cinderella would have pinned on their mob-caps awry;
and if you or I had been in her place, I won't swear but that we might have
pushed in the pins just a trifle carelessly. But she had no malice in her nature;
she attired them to perfection, though they found fault with her all the while
it was doing, and quite forgot to thank her when it was done. Let it be
related, in excuse for their tempers, that they had passed almost two days
without eating, so eager were they and excited. The most of this time they had
spent in front of their mirrors, where they had broken more than a dozen laces
in trying to squeeze their waists and make them appear more slender. They were
dressed a full two hours before the time fixed for starting. But at length the
coach arrived at the door. They were tucked into it with a hundred precautions,
and Cinderella followed it with her eyes as long as she could; that is to say,
until the tears rose and blinded them.
She turned away weeping, back to the house, and crept into
her dear chimney-corner; where, being all alone in the kitchen, she could
indulge her misery.
A long while she sat there. Suddenly, between two heavy sobs
she looked up, her eyes attracted by a strange blue glow on the far side of the
hearth: and there stood the queerest lady, who must have entered somehow without
knocking.
Her powdered hair was dressed all about her head in the
prettiest of short curls, amid which the most exquisite jewels diamonds, and
rubies, and emeralds sparkled against the firelight. Her dress had wide
panniers bulging over a skirt of lace flounces, billowy and delicate as
sea-foam, and a stiff bodice, shaped to the narrowest waist imaginable. Jewels
flashed all over this dress or at least Cinderella sup- posed them to be
jewels, though, on second thoughts, they might be fireflies, butterflies,
glowworms. They seemed at any rate to be alive, and to dart from one point to
another of her attire. Lastly, this strange lady held in her right hand a short
wand, on the end of which trembled a pale bluish- green flame; and it was this
which had first caught Cinderella* eye and caused her to look up.
‘Good evening, child,' said the visitor in a sharp clear
voice, at the same time nodding kindly across the firelight. ‘You seem to be in
trouble. What is the matter? ‘
' I wish,' sobbed Cinderella. ’I wish,' she began again, and
again she choked. This was all she could say for weeping.
' You wish, dear, that you could go to the ball; is it not
so ? '
' Ah, yes! ' said Cinderella with a sigh.
‘Well, then,' said the visitor, ‘be a good girl, dry your tears,
and I think it can be managed. I am your godmother, you must know, and in
younger days your mother and I were very dear friends.' She omitted, perhaps
purposely, to add that she was a Fairy; but Cinderella was soon to discover
this too. ‘Do you happen to have any pumpkins in the garden? her godmother
asked.
Cinderella thought this an odd question. She could not
imagine what pumpkins had to do with going to a ball. But she answered that
there were plenty in the garden a whole bed of them in fact.
‘Then let us go out and have a look at them.'
They went out into the dark garden to the pumpkin patch, and
her godmother pointed to the finest of all with her wand.
' Pick that one,' she commanded.
Cinderella picked it, still wondering. Her godmother opened
a fruit knife that had a handle of mother-of-pearl. With this she scooped out
the inside of the fruit till only the rind was left; then she tapped it with
her wand, and at once the pumpkin was changed into a beautiful coach all
covered with gold.
‘Next we must have horses,' said her godmother. ' The
question is, Have you such a thing as a mouse trap in the house? '
Cinderella ran to look into her mouse trap, where she found
six mice all alive. Her godmother, following, told her to lift the door of the
trap a little way, and as the mice ran out one by one she gave each a tap with
her wand, and each mouse turned at once into a beautiful horse which made a
fine team of six horses, of a lovely grey, dappled with mouse colour.
Now the trouble was to find a coachman.
‘I will go and see,' said Cinderella, who had dried her
tears and was beginning to find this great fun, if there isn't such a thing as
a rat in the rat trap. We can make a coachman of him.'
' You are right, dear,' said her godmother; ‘run and look.'
Cinderella fetched her the rat trap. There were three large
rats in it. The Fairy chose one of the three because of his enormous whiskers,
and at a touch he was changed into a fat coachman.
Next she said: ‘Go to the end of the garden; and there in the
corner of the wall behind the watering-pot, unless I am mistaken, you will find
six lizards. Bring them to me.'
Cinderella had no sooner brought them than her godmother
changed them into six footmen, who climbed up at once behind the coach with
their bedizened liveries, and clung on as though they had been doing nothing
else all their lives.
The Fairy then said to Cinderella: ‘Hey now, child ! This
will do to go to the ball with, unless you are hard to please.’
‘Indeed, yes,' answered Cinderella. ‘But how can I go, as I
am, in these horrid clothes?’
‘You might have given me credit for thinking of that too! '
Her godmother did but touch her with her wand, and on the instant her rags were
trans- formed into cloth of gold and silver, all bespangled with precious
stones. She felt her hair creeping up into curls, and tiring and arranging
itself in tiers, on the topmost of which a double ostrich feather grew from a
diamond clasp that caught the rays of the old lady's wand and shot them about
the garden, this way and that, making the slugs and snails crawl to shelter.
’But the chief mark of a lady,' said her god- mother, eyeing
her with approval, is to be well shod,' and so saying she pulled out a pair of
glass slippers, into which Cinderella poked her toes doubtfully, for glass is
not as a rule an accommodating material for slippers. You have to be measured
very carefully for it.
But these fitted to perfection: and thus arrayed from top to
toe, Cinderella had nothing more to do but kiss her godmother, thank her, and
step into the coach, the six horses of which were pawing the cabbage beds impatiently.
‘Good-bye, child! ' said her godmother. ‘But of one thing I
must warn you seriously. I have power to send you thus to the ball, but my
power lasts only until midnight. Not an instant beyond midnight must you stay
there. If you over-stay the stroke of twelve, your coach will become but a
pumpkin again, your horses will change back into mice, your footmen into
lizards, and your ball dress shrink to the same rags in which I found you.’
Cinderella promised that she would not fail to take her
departure before midnight: and, with that, the coachman cracked his whip and
she was driven away, beside herself with joy.
In the royal palace, and in the royal gardens, over which
shone the same stars which had looked down upon Cinderella’s pumpkins, the ball
was at its height : with scores and scores of couples dancing on the waxed
floor to the music of the violins ; and under the trees, where the music
throbbed in faint echoes, other scores of couples moving, passing and
repassing, listening to the plash of the fountains and inhaling the sweet scent
of the flowers.
Now, as the King's son walked among his guests, word was
brought to him by his Chamberlain that a grand Princess, whom nobody knew, had
just arrived and desired admission.
‘She will not tell her name,’ said the Chamberlain; ‘but
that she is a Princess and of very high dignity cannot be doubted. Apart from
her beauty and the perfection of her address (of which your Royal Highness,
perhaps, will allow me to be no mean judge), I may mention that the very jewels
in her hair are worth a whole province.'
The King's son hastened to the gate to receive the fair
stranger, handed her down from the coach, and led her through the gardens,
where the guests drew apart and gazed in wonder at her loveliness. Still
escorted by him she entered the ball-room, where at once a great silence fell,
the dancing was broken off, the violins ceased to play—so taken, so ravished
was everybody by the vision of this unknown one. Everywhere ran the murmur, ' Ah!
how beautiful she is! ' The King himself, old as he was, could not take his
eyes off her, and con- fided to the Queen in a low voice that it was long since
he had seen so adorable a creature.
All the ladies were busily studying her head-dress and her
ball gown, that they might order the like next day for themselves, if only
(vain hope!) they could find materials so exquisite and dressmakers clever
enough.
The King's son took her to the place of honour, and
afterwards led her out to dance. She danced so gracefully that all admired her
yet the more. A splendid supper was served, but the young Prince ate nothing of
it, so intent was he on gazing upon her.
She went and sat by her sisters, who bridled with pleasure
at the honour. She did them a thousand civilities, sharing with them the
nectarines and citrons which the Prince brought her; and still not recognizing
her, they marveled at this, being quite unused (as they never deserved) to be
selected for attentions so flattering.
The King's son now claimed her for another dance. It had
scarcely come to an end when Cinderella heard the clock strike the quarter to twelve;
whereupon she instantly desired her partner to lead her to the King and Queen. ‘For
I must be going,' she said.
‘It is cruel of you to go so early,' he protested. ‘But at
least you will come again to-morrow and grant me many dances? '
‘Is there to be another ball, then, to-morrow? ' she asked.
‘To-morrow, yes; and as many morrows as you wish, if only
you will come.’
‘Ah, if I could! ' sighed Cinderella to herself: for she was
young, and it seemed to her that she could never have enough of such evenings
as this, though they went on for ever and ever.
The Prince led her to the dais where sat the King and Queen.
She made a deep reverence before them, a slighter but no less gracious one to
the company, and withdrew. Although she had given no orders, her coach stood
waiting for her. Slipping in, she was whisked home in the time it would take
you to wink an eye.
She had scarcely entered the house, however, before she
received a shock. For on the threshold of the kitchen, glancing down to make
sure that her ball gown was not disarranged by this rapid journey, she perceived
that it had vanished—changed back to the rags of her daily wear. But there, in
the light of the hearth, stood her godmother, who smiled so pleasantly that
Cinderella choked down her little cry of disappointment.
‘Well, child? And how have you fared? '
‘Godmama, I have never been so happy in all my life! And it
is all thanks to you! ' But after thanking her, Cinderella could not help
confessing how she longed to go to the ball next evening. The King's son had
begged her to come again, and oh ! if she had been able to promise !
‘As to that, child,' said her godmother, ‘we will see about
it when the time comes. But it has been lonely, keeping watch and sitting up
for you. Will you not reward me by telling all about it? '
Cinderella needed no such invitation; she was dying to
relate her adventures. She talked and talked, her godmother still smiling and
questioning. For two hours, may be, she talked and was still recollecting a
score of things to tell when her sisters' coach rumbled up to the gate, and
almost at once there came a loud ring at the bell. She stared and rubbed her
eyes, for at the first sound of it her godmother had vanished!
Cinderella ran and opened the door to her sisters. ' What a
long time you have stayed,' said she, yawning, rubbing her eyes, and stretching
herself as though she had just waked out of sleep. (She had felt, however, no
inclination at all to sleep since their departure!)
‘If you had been at the ball,’ said the elder sister, ' you
would not have felt tired. One of the guests was the loveliest Princess oh, the
loveliest you ever could see! She showed us a thousand civilities. She gave us
nectarines and citrons.’
Cinderella contained her joy. Upstairs, while she unplaited
her sisters' hair and unlaced their bodices, she asked the name of the
Princess. But they answered that no one knew her; that the King's son was wild
about her, and would give everything in the world to discover who she was.
Cinderella smiled. She no longer felt any temptation at all to be clumsy with
the hairpins.
‘Why then,' she said, < she must be beautiful indeed. And
she went away, you say, without telling her name? Is no one going to see her
again ? '
'As for that, she may come again to the ball to-morrow. I am
told that the Prince begged it, almost with tears in his eyes. . .. For there
is to be another ball to-morrow, and we are going! '
‘Ah, heavens! ' sighed Cinderella, how lucky you are! Might
I not just see her? Please, please, Sister Caroline, take me to-morrow—I could
manage quite well if only you lent me your yellow gown which you wear every
evening ! '
‘Hoity-toity! ' snapped Miss Caroline. ‘You cannot be awake.
You must have been dreaming to some purpose if you see me lending my clothes to
a nasty little Cinder-slut ! '
Cinderella had quite well expected some such rebuff, and was
glad enough to get it, for it would have been very awkward if her sister had
been willing to lend the gown.
The next evening the two sisters were at the ball; and so
was Cinderella, but in even finer attire than before. Her godmother had spared
no pains, and as for the expense, that hardly needs to be considered when you
can turn pumpkins into gilt coaches, cobwebs into Valenciennes lace, and
beetles' wings into rubies, with the tap of a wand.
The King's son in his impatience flew to her coach door as
soon as she arrived. Throughout the evening he never left her side, nor ceased
to make pretty speeches; and she, pretty maid, was far from finding his behavior
tiresome so far, indeed, that she forgot her godmother's warning. The end was,
that in the midst of a dance she heard the stroke of a clock, looked up, was
dismayed to find it the first stroke of twelve when she believed it yet an hour
short of midnight, and made her escape as lightly as a deer. The Prince followed,
but could not catch her. Only she dropped one of her glass slippers, which he
picked up and treasured.
With the last stroke of twelve, coach and foot- men had
whisked away, and poor Cinderella^ barefoot now as well as in rags, panted
homeward over roads where the flints cut her until she bled, and the owls and
great moths blundered out of the bushes against her face. To make matters
worse, a thunderstorm broke before she had ran half the distance, and she
arrived home in a terrible plight, muddy, drenched to the skin, and almost more
dead than alive. In one thing only she was fortunate: she had outstripped her
sisters, whose coach on the way home lost a wheel and I have a suspicion that
Cinderella s godmother had something to do with this misadventure too.
At all events when Cinderella opened the kitchen door the
little lady stood as she had stood the night before, in the glow of the hearth,
awaiting her.
‘Well, child,' she said, frowning, yet the frown was not
altogether unkindly, ‘it is easily seen that you have forgotten my warning and
have suffered for it. But what is that you are clutching?
' Poor Cinderella drew from under her bedraggled bodice a
crystal slipper, fellow to the missing one. It was the one remnant of all her
finery, and some- how, scarcely knowing why, she had hugged it to her while she
ran and never let it slip in all her stumblings.
Her godmother gazed at her with a queer expression, that
began by being a frown, yet in the end had certainly changed into a shrewd
smile.
‘You have been careless,’ she said. ‘Yet I am pleased to see
that you have managed to keep, at any rate, one-half of your godmother's gift.'
I think she meant by this that whereas all the rest of Cinderella s adornment
had been contrived out of something other than it was, the two glass slippers
had been really produced out of the Fairy's pocket. They alone had not vanished
at the stroke of mid- night. ' But what has become of the other one? ' her
godmother asked.
Cinderella did not know for certain, but fancied that she
must have dropped it in her hurry to escape from the palace.
' Yes, you are careless,' repeated the Fairy; ‘but decidedly
you are not unlucky.’
And with that she vanished, as the bell sounded announcing
the sisters' return.
They were not in the best of humours, to begin with.
Cinderella asked them if they had again found the ball enjoyable, and if the
beautiful lady had been there. They told her yes; but that on the stroke of
twelve she had taken flight, and so hurriedly that she had let fall one of her
small glass slippers, the prettiest in the world, which the King's son had
picked up. They added, that this indeed was the first cause of their delay;
for, seeking their carriage, they had found the entry blocked, and the 'Prince
in the wildest state of mind, demanding of the guards if they had not seen a
Princess pass out. The guards answered that they had seen no one pass out but a
ragged girl, who looked more like a country wench than a Princess. Amid this
to-do, the sisters had with difficulty found their coach ; and then, within two
miles of home, a wheel had come off and the coach had lurched over, in a
thunderstorm, too ; and they had been forced to walk the rest of the way, the
one with a bruised shoulder, and the other (which was worse) with a twisted
ankle. But, after all, the dance had been worth these mischances and sufferings
; and, said they, harking back, the Prince was undoubtedly deep in love, for
they had left him gazing fondly at the slipper, and little doubt- -mysteriously
as she chose to behave- -he would make every effort to find the beautiful
creature to whom it belonged.
They told the truth, too. For a few days after, the King's
son had it proclaimed by sound of trumpet that he would marry her whose foot
the slipper exactly fitted.
At first they tried it on the Princesses of the Court :
Then on the Duchesses
:
Then on the Marchionesses :
Then on the Countesses and Viscountesses :
Then on the Baronesses :
And so on, through all the ladies of the Court, and a number
of competitors, who, though they did not belong to it, yet supposed that the
smallness of their feet was an argument that their parents had very unjustly
come down in the world. The Prime Minister, who carried the glass slipper on a
velvet cushion, was kept very busy during the next few weeks.
At length he called on Cinderella’s two sisters, who did all
they could to squeeze a foot into the slipper, but by no means could they
succeed.
Cinderella, who was looking on and admiring their efforts,
said laughingly: —
’Let me see if it will fit me.’
Her sisters began to laugh and mock at her, but the Prime
Minister, who had come to make trial of the slipper, looked at Cinderella
attentively, and seeing how good-looking she was, said that it was but just he
had orders to try it upon everyone.
He asked Cinderella
to sit down, and drawing the slipper upon her little foot, he saw that it went
on easily, and fitted the foot like wax. Great was the astonishment of the two sisters;
but it was greater when Cinderella pulled from her pocket the other little
slipper and put it upon the other foot. On top of this came a rap at the door,
and in walked the Fairy Godmother, who, by a touch of her wand upon Cinderella
s clothes, made them still more magnificent than they had been before.
And now her two sisters knew Cinderella to be the same
beautiful creature they had seen at the ball. They threw themselves at her
feet, begging her pardon for all the ill-usage they had made her suffer.
Cinderella raised and kissed them, saying that she forgave them with all her
heart, and entreated them to be loving to her always.
They led her to the young Prince, arrayed as she was. He
thought her lovelier than ever, and, a few days after, they were married.
Cinderella, who was as good as she was beautiful, lodged her two sisters in the
palace, and married them that same day to two great Lords of the Court.
MORAL
Better than 'wealth or art,
Jewels or a painted face,
It is when a natural heart
Inhabits its natural place
And beats at a natural pace.
ANOTHER
Yet youth that is poor of purse,
No matter how witty or handsome,
Will find its talents no worse
For a godmamma to advance'en.
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