I
Far, far away, deep within the mountains, there lies a large and lovely lake, with water as smooth and as clear as the polished surface of a mirror. It is a quiet place, unfrequented by those who like to surround themselves with every sort of convenience. Only a Painter and a pale-faced Youth—the former seeking to connect with Nature; the latter seeking to mend his broken heart—used to visit on occasion, to delight in flowers that glistened like teardrops and birdsong as sweet as a lover’s kiss, and so take succor from the unseen hands of God.
But the Painter came to prefer his studio to the mountain landscape; and longing to see his female models once more, rolled up his canvases and returned to the capital city in the east; while the pale-faced Youth returned to the bustling port city in the west, hoping to forget his sorrow under the influence of bright street lights and strong-smelling wine. Since they have left, the lake has become devoid of all human presence.
But that is not to say that it has become devoid of life. For every spring it teems with birds and beasts and little flying insects!
There was one spring when the lake looked especially lovely. Yellow waterlilies and pink and white lotus flowers floated dreamily upon the water. And as there were no humans around to catch or tease them, the water-nymphs were free to play with the fish in the lake or couch with the butterflies and the bees among the flowers. The wood-elves danced merry jigs in the moonlight and raced round the lake with the fireflies. Thrilled by the sight of so much Beauty in one place, the creatures all found themselves dreaming the same spring night’s dream; and everything was made more beautiful because of it.
II
One warm spring night there flickered along the edge of the lake a handsome young Firefly with wings that shone like diamonds. It was a full-moon night, and the lake seemed to exude such a passionate glow that the Firefly drifted out onto it, and spent a long time gazing at the moon’s reflection in the water.
At last he felt his wings grow heavy. “I must get back to the flowers!” he cried, and began to hasten towards the shore. But before he had gone even a little way, he realized that he lacked the strength to get there.
“How sad it is that I should die on such a romantic night!”
Above him there stretched an infinite sky, with a brilliant moon and softly twinkling stars; while below him, on the mirror-surface of the lake, there stretched another infinite sky, with its own brilliant moon and softly twinkling stars, so that whether he looked up or down, all that he could see were two infinitely stretching skies.
“Bright stars! Beautiful Moon! Still more beautiful World! Farewell!”
The Firefly folded his wings and braced himself for the water.
But when he looked down again, he saw a Goldfish coming up from the depths of the lake—though she seemed to be an angel coming down from Heaven.
“Little Firefly,” said the Goldfish in a gentle voice; “what ever is the matter?”
“I am tired!” answered the Firefly. “My wings haven’t the strength to fly, and so I must leave this beautiful world. Oh, surely the weak of body have no right to live in it!”
“Nothing of the kind!” said the Goldfish, and her voice made silver ripples on the surface of the water. “I have never heard anything more foolish. Why, Beauty and Grace are also a kind of strength. In fact, of all things, brute strength may be the least in importance. Now alight on my back, and I will take you home.”
“If it is not too much trouble,” said the Firefly, turning red at the Goldfish’s kindness, and he alighted on her back.
So the Goldfish started out for the shore.
“You know,” she murmured in spite of her shyness, “I have watched you every night, and wondered how I might make your acquaintance. Surely there is no one in the lake who is as beautiful as you are.” And she sighed.
“And I have watched you also,” said the Firefly. “And in my heart, I yearned for you. Surely there is no one in the air who is as lovely as you are . . .”
The Goldfish and the Firefly spoke no more; but after that night they continued to see each other regularly. In fact, every night they circled the lake, or couched among the bulrushes near the shore, the Goldfish telling of her life in the water, the Firefly of his life in the wood; and together they dreamed a spring night’s dream.
A Water-Nymph and a Wood-Elf were sailing on two big green lily pads when they happened to pass the Goldfish and the Firefly, who were out on their evening constitutional.
“That Firefly has the most beautiful wings in the world,” said the Nymph.
“And that Goldfish, the loveliest scales,” said the Elf.
“How handsome you would look with those wings!”
“And were you to wear a crown of those scales, no other fairy could match you in beauty, neither in the lake, nor in the wood.”
“I only want beautiful things,” murmured the Nymph, “even in dreams.”
“As do I,” said the Elf. “Awake or asleep, it is all I can think about . . .”
And the two fairies fell silent.
There was another night.
The daughter of a rich Nobleman went out from her summer home, and with a bug-cage in her left hand, and a butterfly net in her right, came down to the shore of the lake.
At the same time the son of a poor Farmer arrived along an old country road, with a fishbowl in his left hand, and a fishing rod in his right.
When the Nobleman’s daughter saw the Farmer’s son, she went up to him and bowed.
“I am the daughter of the Nobleman who owns this land,” she said.
“And I am the son of the Farmer who works it,” said the boy.
“I often see little boys working on my family’s estate.”
“And I often see little girls playing in my family’s garden.”
“I don’t think I like little boys.”
“And I don’t think I like little girls.”
“Boys are so vulgar; they are always rough and know nothing of etiquette.”
“And girls are so dim; they always speak in such vague terms that one imagines they are talking in their sleep.”
“Well, boys are always fighting and arguing with each other; I really cannot stand them!”
“And girls are always thinking about clothes and makeup, which makes me dislike them even more. In fact, I dislike them more than anything!”
For a long time the boy and the girl argued in the shade of the trees by the mirror-lake. From their nests and their beds, the birds and the bees listened to them, and wondered at why the human children argued so.
“Boys are always tearing their clothes,” the girl went on, “and getting themselves dirty; and what’s more, they smell funny.”
“Well, girls are always wearing such flimsy dresses,” said the boy. “And they are so pale and weak that they look like Death.”
“I would much rather look at a firefly than a boy!”
“And I would much rather look at a goldfish than a girl!”
“Boys! Sometimes I want to slap them!”
“Girls! Sometimes I want to pull their hair!”
There was a brief silence. A cry of cicadas rose from the trees.
“I think that I will put this cage at the south end of my veranda,” said the Nobleman’s daughter, “facing the low garden fence.”
“And I think that I will put this fishbowl at the north end of my veranda,” said the Farmer’s son, “where there is no fence to obstruct its view.”
“I hope I haven’t bothered you. Good-bye!”
“Likewise. Good-bye!”
So the two bowed to each other and parted ways, the girl heading off in one direction, the boy heading off in the other.
III
Later that night the handsome Firefly could be seen in a cage at the south end of the Nobleman’s veranda; and the pretty Goldfish, in a fishbowl at the north end of the Farmer’s veranda. One wonders what thoughts were running through their tiny heads, what feelings were taking hold in their tiny hearts.
Oh, but I am afraid that there are neither words nor images capable of expressing the sadness felt by these poor creatures!
When the Wood-Elf heard what had happened, he could hardly contain himself; and after all had gone quiet, he stole up to the Farmer’s veranda.
“My dear Goldfish,” he whispered sorrowfully; “you seem to be in a great deal of trouble. And what’s more, your beloved now hangs in a cage at the estate across the way.”
But the Goldfish made no answer. She was too sad for words, and merely pressed her golden head against the glass and sighed.
“What would you give me,” the Elf went on, “were I to free your friend?”
“All that I can give you is my miserable life,” said the Goldfish. “But should it prove useful to win my true love’s freedom, I will gladly give it to you.”
“I don’t want your life!” exclaimed the Elf. “But give me those pretty scales of yours, and I will do what I can.”
“Please do!” cried the Goldfish. “For should they ensure my true love’s freedom, then I shall not miss even one of them. Now take them, all of them, at once, that he might be set free.” And she swam up to the surface of the fishbowl.
So the Elf stripped the Goldfish of her pretty scales, and threw them in a sack.
“My dear Goldfish,” he said to her, “whatever you do, do not lose hope. For I will think of a way to get you out also”; and he set off for the mansion across the way.
But the Goldfish did not hear him. She had fallen into a swoon, and was laying at the bottom of the fishbowl like a stone.
Just then the Farmer’s son awoke.
“Is it me,” he said to himself as he rubbed his eyes, “or is there somebody out on the veranda?” and he jumped out of bed and looked.
But there was nothing there, only the shadow of a figure passing through the gate of the Nobleman’s estate. Then he looked down at his fishbowl and found the Goldfish shivering and stripped of all her scales.
“How dare she!” he cried. “This is an outrage!”
Meanwhile the Wood-Elf had arrived at the south end of the Nobleman’s veranda.
“My dear Firefly,” he said, hiding the sack of scales behind his back; “you seem to be in a great deal of trouble. And what’s more, your beloved now lies in a fishbowl on the veranda across the way.”
But the Firefly made no answer. He was too grieved for words, and merely wrapped his legs around his chest and hid behind his brilliant wings.
“What would you give me,” the Elf went on, “were I to free your little friend, and put her back into the lake?”
“All that I can give you is my nightmarish life,” said the Firefly. “But should it prove useful to win my true love’s freedom, you may take it from me.”
“I don’t want your life!” exclaimed the Elf. “But give me those brilliant wings of yours, and I will do what I can.”
“My wings?” asked the Firefly, and a look of scorn flashed behind in his tear-dimmed eyes. “You want my wings?”
“Yes,” answered the Elf, looking away. “I want your brilliant wings.”
“I see,” said the Firefly in a barely audible voice. “Then take them! You may have them!” And he flew to the door of the cage.
So the Elf stripped the Firefly of his handsome wings, and threw them in a sack.
Just then the Nobleman’s daughter woke up.
“Surely,” she said to herself as she rubbed her eyes, “there is somebody out on the veranda.” And she slipped out of bed and looked.
But there was nothing there, only the shadow of a figure making its way towards the Farmer’s cottage. Then she looked down at her bug cage and found the Firefly collapsed and stripped of its wings.
“How awful!” she cried, and she burst into tears.
The next evening the lake gave off a passionate glow. All was quiet, save for the twittering of birds and the humming of honeybees. Having received one last kiss from the sun, the water lilies closed up their petals and went to sleep.
On a large lily pad lay the Firefly, stripped of his brilliant wings. Beside him lay the Goldfish, half submerged in the water.
“I’m cold,” whispered the Goldfish. “I haven’t the strength to go on.”
“And I’m sad,” muttered the Firefly. “For what is life without my wings?”
“Still I do not regret having given up my scales to save you . . .”
“And I am proud to have traded my wings for your freedom . . .”
Then the two lovers fell silent and spoke no more.
In the evening light the lake gave off a passionate glow. Then the light died, and with it died the Goldfish and the Firefly. Whether their souls mingled with the dying light and ascended towards the infinite sky, or dispersed in a cool mist among the flowers, I cannot say. All was quiet, save for the twittering of birds and the humming of honeybees. As for the water lilies, they had closed up their petals and were fast asleep.
IV
The moon rose in the sky, and many fireflies came out to greet it. The wood-elves danced in the moonlight, and the most handsome of them all was the Elf with wings that shone like diamonds.
The Water-Nymph stepped out of her flowerbed and bowed to the moon. On her head she wore a crown of golden scales.
Then she saw the dead bodies of the Firefly and the Goldfish.
“Oh, no!” she shrieked. “Somebody, come quick!” and all the elves stopped dancing and rushed over in a noisy mob.
“What’s this?” she exclaimed, pointing at the corpses. “Who has murdered my friends? Who has striped the Firefly of his wings? Who has stripped the Goldfish of her scales?” And she hid her face in her tiny hands and wept.
“They were captured by some children,” said the Elf with the wings. “But I freed them in exchange for their best attributes. In fact, I used the Goldfish’s scales to fashion the crown that you are now wearing on your head.”
“But did you not say that you wanted the Goldfish’s scales? And did I not say that I wanted the Firefly’s wings? Tell me, what was I supposed to do if not take them? Surely such things cannot be made by fairy hands alone.”
“But you murdered them!” cried the Nymph.
“I did not,” replied the Elf. “Those creatures did not need wings or scales to live. Why, I never had wings before, and you never had scales—but we did not die, did we? I tell you, those creatures died on their own accord.”
“What a world!” wailed the Nymph. “When I want something, must I take it from another? Must I rob the Goldfish of her scales? Must my gain be another’s loss?” And she rushed back to her flower and closed the petals over her.
Then the wood-elves came together and danced a dance of mourning. Only the Elf with the Firefly’s wings did not join them. He sat apart on a rock.
“Surely God is a miser,” he sighed, staring off into space. “Why, he should have made more firefly wings and goldfish scales. After all, with such a big world to fill, what reason did he have to be so cheap!”
Later in the evening the Nobleman’s daughter arrived at the lake. She carried a bug-cage in her left hand, and a butterfly net in her right. The Farmer’s son arrived soon after. He had a fishbowl in his left hand, and a fishing rod in his right.
“I don’t think that I like poor boys,” said the girl when she saw him.
“And I don’t think that I like rich girls,” said the boy.
“Poor boys are always going about in shabby clothes. And what is more, they are cruel.”
“Well, clothing is the only clean thing about a rich girl, for their hearts are dirty.”
“Last night some awful poor boy murdered my firefly.”
“Last night some greedy rich girl murdered my goldfish.”
“When I find out which poor boy murdered my firefly, I am going to slap him!”
“And when I find out which rich girl murdered my goldfish, I am going to pull her hair!”
“The next time that I catch something I will put it in the drawing-room window, across from the high garden fence.”
“And the next time that I catch something I will put it in the living-room window, behind the old rusty grate.”
“I hope that I have not bothered you. Good-bye!”
“Likewise. Good-bye!”
So the two bowed to each other and parted ways, the girl heading off in one direction, the boy heading off in the other.
After the Nobleman’s daughter had walked a little way along the lake’s edge, she noticed the Wood-Elf sitting alone on a rock.
“Oh,” she said to herself; “that must be a Wood-Elf! My nurse has told me all about them.” And she stole up to the rock, and tried to grab at Elf; but her foot slipped, and the two of them fell headfirst into the lake.
“Help!” she cried at the top of her voice; and the Wood-Elf, who was just as frightened, called for the King of the Lake, that he might come and save him.
On the other side of the lake, the Farmer’s son spied the Water-Nymph sitting pensive in her flower.
“Ah,” he said to himself; “that must be a Water-Nymph! My mother has told me all about them.” And he stole up to the flower, and tried to grab the Nymph; but he lost his balance, and the two of them fell headfirst into the lake.
“Help!” he cried out; and the Nymph called for the King of the Lake, that he might come and save her.
A moment later the King of the Lake had risen up from the water’s deep, and, with a wave of his wand, had rescued the Nobleman’s daughter, the Wood-Elf, the Farmer’s son, and the Water-Nymph, and set them before him on the shore.
“Who dares disturb this most quiet of places on this most quiet of nights?” he demanded.
“It was the humans!” answered the Wood-Elf.
“Indeed!” nodded the Water-Nymph. “Two good-for-nothing humans!”
“Then you should have drowned them,” said the King of the Lake. “Surely you have ways for doing that. Besides, you would be doing the creatures of this lake a favor. Really, you need not have called me out of the deep for this.”
As he spoke, one could see that he was seething with rage. “And then there is this business about the Goldfish and the Firefly,” he continued. “It is very unbecoming for fairies such as yourselves.”
“I wish I had acted differently,” admitted the Wood-Elf. “In fact, I spent the whole night reflecting on the matter. But then I got caught by this awful creature here.” And he pointed at the Nobleman’s daughter.
“I too mourned the loss of our friends,” said the Water-Nymph. “But then I got caught by this good-for-nothing creature here.” And she pointed at the Farmer’s son.
The King of the Lake softened his expression a little.
“Are you the awful creature that tried to catch the Wood-Elf?” he asked, turning to face the Nobleman’s daughter.
“I am not an awful creature,” said the girl. “I am a Nobleman’s daughter, and I like beautiful things. Last night I caught a firefly, but somebody came and stole its wings. Then the firefly disappeared. And tonight, when I saw this little man, I thought that I might catch him and take care of him. But my foot slipped, and I fell into the lake. Oh, you really must believe me. I do not catch beautiful things in order to tease them, but to care for them!”
The King of the Lake smiled and turned to face the Farmer’s son.
“And are you the good-for-nothing creature that tried to catch the Water-Nymph?”
“I am not a good-for-nothing creature,” said the boy. “I am a Farmer’s son, and I like beautiful things also. Last night I caught a goldfish, but somebody came and stole its scales. Then the goldfish disappeared. And tonight, when I saw this little lady, I thought that I might take her home with me—to care for, not to tease!”
The King of the Lake’s expression grew softer still.
“And pray,” he said, turning to face the Wood-Elf, “why did you treat the Firefly and the Goldfish so cruelly as to strip them of their wings and scales?”
“Because I like beautiful things also,” answered the Elf. “And I thought the wings to be exceedingly handsome. And what’s more, I wanted to fashion a crown of scales to set upon the Water-Nymph’s pretty head. So, yes, I took the wings and scales—but I did not mean to kill the Firefly or the Goldfish!”
“And it is true that I desired the Goldfish’s scales,” said the Nymph, “and thought the Wood-Elf would look exceedingly handsome with the Firefly’s wings. But I never imagined that it would cost the lives of those poor unfortunate creatures!”
At last the King of the Lake revealed a radiant smile.
“I can see that you are all fond of beautiful things. Very well. Many a sin has been forgiven for a love of Beauty. But you must go one step further in your devotion. For it is not right to covet beautiful things. Such a desire comes from a tainted source. A true love of Beauty must spring from a selfless heart. And the greater your love of Beauty, the stronger you will become. That is why men are stronger than beasts; and fairies, stronger than men; and angels, stronger still: because each is more finely attuned to Beauty. Indeed, that is why the one who sees Beauty in all things, and loves all things for the sake of Beauty, is God.”
Then the King of the Lake turned to face the Wood-Elf and the Water-Nymph, and said: “Because your love of Beauty was imperfect, you were nearly caught by these children”; and turning to face the children, he said: “Because you coveted beautiful things, you put yourselves in mortal danger. To be sure, a love of Beauty has the power to conquer the universe, but it also has the power to take lives. Remember this, and make no further mistakes”; and—swoosh, swoosh!—he waved his magic wand in the air.
V
The Nobleman’s daughter awoke to find herself lying on a rock by the shore.
“I don’t recall falling asleep here!” she said to herself as she looked round.
Below the Goldfish was swimming about in the calm lake; while above, the Firefly was flickering through the air on his diamond wings.
Then the Farmer’s son awoke on the opposite shore.
“I don’t recall falling asleep here!” he said to himself as he looked round.
Deep in the forest, the Wood-Elf was dancing a jig in the moonlight; and the Water-Nymph was watching him from her flower and smiling.
The two children’s eyes met, and they approached each other.
“I think it’s a pity to catch fireflies,” said the girl, bowing her head. “Somebody might come along and steal their wings.”
“And I think it’s a pity to catch fish,” replied the boy, bowing his head also. “Somebody might come along and steal their scales.”
“I would much rather come here to watch the fireflies.”
“And I would much rather come here to watch the goldfish.”
So the two of them sat down, side by side, and plucked the flowers wet with dew, and threw them into the water. Handfuls of flowers did the children pluck, and they threw them into the water, one by one.
“Poor boys may go about in dirty rags,” said the Nobleman’s daughter, “but they are kind. All they need is a fresh pair of clothes and a bath.”
“And rich girls may look like Death,” said the Farmer’s son, “but they have an inner beauty. If only they studied more and exercised outdoors, then the color would return to their faces, and they would grow stronger.”
For a few moments there was a brief silence.
“You know,” said the Nobleman’s daughter, “I am not at all afraid of walking through the woods alone.” And her youthful cheeks blushed.
“Well,” said the Farmer’s son, “I can walk any mountain-path.” And his youthful heart quivered.
“I am not afraid of walking mountain-paths. But I would be less lonely if I had someone to walk them with.”
“A traveling companion makes the journey more fun.”
“Not if they kick at stones or tread on your toes or drag their feet on the ground. I simply cannot stand that.”
“Agreed. People should wear clogs and walk at a slow pace. By the by, I think that I will take the high road home.”
“I think that I will take it also. I just love to look at the large rocks to the right of it.”
“And I like to swing from the big trees to the left of it.”
When all the flowers had been plucked, the two children rose to their feet.
“I wouldn’t mind it if we walked together, though my nurse might have her concerns.”
“And I wouldn’t mind it if we walked together, though my friends might tease me.”
So they set off through the woods and along the high road.
Meanwhile the Wood-Elf danced in the moonlight, and the Water-Nymph watched him. And the Goldfish and the Firefly, and everybody in and around the lake, dreamed a beautiful spring night’s dream.
