The City Curious

"Then," said Smaly, "tell us the whole history of the Prisoner."

"Ah," replied the Tea-Cosy, "the Historian has the monopoly of the local chronicles. We others can't even remember what happens in this country. But I can tell you what the Prisoner's life was like before he came here and was put in his sugar-cane prison."

"We know that they cut off his head," interrupted Smaly.

"Of course if you know all about it it's not worth while my telling you the story, it will be so short," said the Tea-Cosy huffily.

Smaly managed to soothe the Tea-Cosy, which then told them the following story:

"THE STORY OF DJORAK

"My story begins on a Saturday, which was also market-day. There was a great crowd in all the streets. The chariot where Djorak was seated with the Executioner could barely force a way through the mass of people. Every one who had the leisure to do so followed the chariot of the condemned; others, who had not, took the time out of their work, or their luncheon hour. Servants out shopping followed it with their laden baskets on their arms. Great ladies sent away their sedan-chairs so that they might fight their way on foot, where no vehicles, however small, could have passed, so dense was the crowd.

"When he arrived at the scaffold Djorak sat down. He was a little pale, which is not to be wondered at, for it was enough to put any man out.

"The Executioner vested himself in his red robe, and taking out of his chariot a small grindstone he began to sharpen the pair of scissors with which he was going to cut off Djorak's head.

"The Prisoner, for his part, was so upset when he saw the scissors being sharpened that he neglected to respond to the farewell salutes of his friends, which they wafted to him across the barrier of policemen that surrounded the scaffold.

"It seemed to Djorak that he must be in a dream.

"Quite little things of no importance from every period of his life passed before the eyes of his imagination.

"He found himself thinking of a hen that his parents had possessed when he was a very little boy. This hen had been extremely intelligent.

"One day she had found herself unable to break the shell of a snail, so she had gone to the stock-pot and taken out a lettuce-leaf. She came back, her bright eyes twinkling, laid the leaf down before the snail and hid herself.

"Presently the snail began to shoot out his horns.

"Then his head.

"Then his whole body.

"It was exactly what the hen had wished to see.

"The hen gazed at it.

"The hen laughed.

"The hen opened her beak.

"The hen gobbled the snail up.

"This and equally ridiculous happenings passed through the Prisoner's brain. He remembered his mother, and how she used thoughtfully to put an ash-tray in his pocket when——"

"We know all about the ash-tray," said Smaly and Redy together.

"Very well, very well, I'll leave out the ash-tray," said the Tea-Cosy. "But do you know also how when he wanted his mother to do anything in particular for him, he thrust his face into roses covered with dew?"

"No, we don't know that."

"Well," continued the Tea-Cosy, "when he withdrew his face it would be covered with dew from the roses, and he would say to his mother:

"'Only look how I am crying....'

"Djorak thought of this and of a thousand other things. He had an excellent memory.

"Meanwhile the moment of his death was approaching.

"The Executioner bandaged his eyes, then turned towards the crowd and, according to custom, demanded:

"'Has any one in this town any objection to the way in which I am about to employ this magnificent pair of scissors?'

"The Chief of Police answered, also according to custom: 'Have the scissors been sharpened according to rule?'

"The crowd merely cried out, 'Can they cut?'

"The Executioner thereupon took several old newspapers and, holding them out before the crowd, began to cut them into fine strips. Next he took some old cardboard boxes, which he treated in the same way. Finally he cut up whole logs of wood into thin circles. In order that every one might see, he did these things in front of him, behind him, to the right and to the left.

"These experiments seemed to satisfy the crowd; but the Chief of Police still hesitated. Finally he approached the Executioner and, leaning forward, said in his ear:

"'Excuse me, I beg of you, my dear friend, if I seem indiscreet; but I am merely doing my duty. The King has particularly commanded that all the rules shall be observed. Therefore you will understand that I am bound to ask you three questions to assure myself that you really have the strength to use these scissors successfully.

"'1. Have you eaten three hard-boiled eggs this morning?

"'2. Have you eaten three rashers of bacon this morning?

"'3. Have you played a game of football this morning?'

"To each question the Executioner replied with a nod of the head.

"'Then get on with it,' said the Chief of Police.

"The Executioner raised the scissors towards the sky, turning himself about to all points of the compass. Then with a brisk movement he lowered the scissors, opened them and shut them again, and the head of Djorak tumbled to the ground."

"But that's the same Djorak who is here in the prison of the sugar-canes," interrupted Smaly, who in spite of his habit of being astounded at nothing could not help showing a little astonishment.

"Don't be so impatient," replied the Mother of the Crow imperturbably. "You'll understand in a moment or two. Now I have already told you that Djorak had a very good memory. At the moment when his head was falling he remembered that he had always heard one doesn't die immediately when one's head is cut off.

"It was extremely fortunate for him that he remembered this detail.

"He hastened to pick up his head, and he jumped off the scaffold holding it under his arm."

"Dear me," said Smaly and Redy.

The Mother of the Crow continued her story imperturbably:

"When the crowd saw this man in such a peculiar condition they began to fly in all directions. An indescribable panic followed. The square rapidly emptied. Soon there was no one left saving a few people who had been knocked down. The crowd ran and ran; but the beheaded Prisoner ran harder still. Soon he was running by himself; all the townspeople had taken shelter.

"Djorak and his head had a very precise end in view in running thus. It was important both for the head and for Djorak to arrive as soon as possible at the house of a certain Magician whom he knew.

"He arrived, rushed in and banged the door behind him. The Magician, unfortunately, was out, only his young son was there, and although this youth understood perfectly how urgent it was that Djorak's head should be fastened on again as soon as possible, he could do nothing to help him.

"'Let's consult the Brindled Rabbit,' suggested the Head.

"The Brindled Rabbit being questioned played several strains on a harp of silver and crystal, then he withdrew into an old comfit-box and shut the lid down on himself.

"After a few seconds he opened the lid again, his eye became visible, and his little paw shoved a folded slip of paper through the opening.

"The Son of the Magician read as follows:

"1 Three.

"2 Three.

"3 Three.

"He at once tore up to the third story of the house. There he counted three shelves, and from the third shelf he took the third little bottle and ran downstairs again.

"'What must he do with it?' asked the youth, of the Rabbit; but the box remained shut; there was no answer.

"'I must drink it,' replied the Head.

"'But you've no stomach,' cried the Son of the Magician.

"'Put my head back on my neck,' suggested Djorak, 'then there will at least be a stomach beneath my head.'

"The Son of the Magician at once placed Djorak's head back in its proper place with one hand, while with the other he tipped the little bottle between its lips.

"The effect was immediate.

"Directly the liquor trickled down his throat Djorak felt himself as well as ever. He danced about with joy. He even played a game of leapfrog with the Son of the Magician, then they sang a comic duet, of which I cannot remember the words. The first lines went something like this:

"But Djorak had a good memory, and so he had kept his head.

"During their song the Brindled Rabbit crept out of his comfit-box. He could not stay in it for laughing at the comic song.

"Djorak and the Son of the Magician begged him to advise them what to do next; but the Rabbit only held its sides with laughter, and made no reply.

"Then they questioned a Black Toad who came crawling out of a pot of treacle where he lived, and began to lick himself dry with a fine, forked tongue.

"The Rabbit hopped up to him wishing to share in the treacle; but the Black Toad flew into a rage. It was a worse rage than even that of the Chief Contractor when we have not placed ourselves symmetrically," added the Mother of the Crow, remembering that Smaly and Redy had seen the Contractor in a temper.

"Then," she continued, "the Son of the Magician asked the Black Toad in what country Djorak should take refuge, making the suggestion that they should send him to a green country where the clouds were all white and the trees mauve.

"The Black Toad shot forward to within an inch of the Rabbit's nose; but without advancing a step, for his legs suddenly expanded to allow him to do so.

"'I hate mauve and white,' he snapped, and shot back again.

"The Rabbit replied peacefully, 'How about a rose-coloured country, where the people dance as they bake the bread?'

"'I would like that,' said Djorak.

"'I don't doubt it,' said the Brindled Rabbit.

"'Or would you like a country where they hunt butterflies all the morning, and fish in the little river in the afternoon?' asked the Rabbit.

"'Yes, yes, that will do,' replied Djorak, who was anxious to get away.

"'He is a misanthrope,' declared the Toad, retreating towards its pot of treacle.

"'Oh, kind Toad, do tell me where I ought to go,' begged Djorak.

"'Get into this little glass tube,' replied the Toad.

"Djorak obeyed.

"This tube was no bigger than a penholder; when Djorak was comfortably settled inside of it the Black Toad put one end of it into his mouth and blew.

"He blew so hard that Djorak was shot right into our country. Then——"

But here Redy interrupted the Mother of the Crow. She gave a little shake to the Tea-Cosy and whispered rapidly what she had noticed taking place on the other side of the public square.

This is what she had seen.

From one of the holes made for the Flying-Fish Redy perceived the thin long arm of the Historian sticking out, the finger pointing accusingly towards the door of the kitchen, where Smaly, Redy, and the Mother of the Crow were seated.

The Mother of the Crow understood the significance of this at once. It meant she would not be permitted to carry her story any further. The monopoly of the chronicles of the country belonged to the Historian.

The Mother of the Crow had to hold her tongue.

CHAPTER XIII

At this moment a crowd of Wigs ran in at the door crying:

"The fleet has arrived, the fleet has arrived."

"The fleet?" asked Smaly. "I haven't seen any sea."

"There isn't any sea, or any water in the river," replied the Mother of the Crow.

"Do you imagine," demanded the Young Stork, "that a nation like ours is going to deprive itself of the splendid luxury of a fleet simply because chance has decreed that the ocean should not come as far as its frontiers?"

"Besides, a fleet's so ornamental," said the Mother of the Crow.

"Oh, you're there, are you?" said the Young Stork. "I have been asked to beg you to assist at the grand inauguration ceremony of the fleet."

Smaly and Redy begged the Young Stork to allow them to accompany him.

The Stork, who was always charitably employed at the task of extracting fish-bones from the back of the Despoiler, and so was accustomed to doing kindnesses, promised to beg for this favour for them from the Chief Contractor. Then the Stork departed, taking with him the Mother of the Crow, huddled up in her oyster-shell.

After a quarter of an hour four more Wigs arrived in the kitchen; dangling from a long stick, they bore a large copper cauldron.

"It is permitted that you should assist at the ceremony," they announced to Smaly and Redy. "Get into the pot."

Smaly and Redy climbed in, full of joy, and Smaly whispered low to his little wife, "They are still afraid that the sun will melt us, and that we shall cover their beautiful lawn with grease."

"Take this umbrella," continued the Wig who was the spokesman, offering them a mushroom. "This will protect you from the hot rays of the sun; and whatever you do don't lean over the edge of the cauldron."

Then they set off.

The fleet was already arranged upon a long platform painted blue. The vessels were made of pink and white marzipan, and all had two masts of cane and little silken flags. A funnel of gilt paper was placed in the middle of each ship.

"But there's no smoke coming out of the funnels," objected Smaly.

"I know, I know," replied the Chief Contractor impatiently, and turning he ordered: "Admiral, put the smoke in place," and the Admiral at once arranged a charming little puff of smoke made of cotton-wool at the top of each of the forty funnels.

The Admiral was a Triton, whom the Wigs had made themselves. They had set their heart on possessing this little animal; but since they had no sea from which to catch one, they had done their best to model one from an authentic picture.

The Triton was made of barley-sugar and almond paste.

The other personages who had arrived with the fleet were the White Dolphin with pink eyes, and a young but very despondent Syren, a black Sea-Dog, and a large Sea-Horse, which seemed almost mad; also an extremely curious fish, which brought its own food in a glass jar.

All these creatures had asked nothing better than to leave the sea, which had become unbearable for them during the past few years because of the submarines. All of them were very happy at the chance of obtaining employment in a country as solid and sweet as that of the Wigs. Their business here would be to look after the fleet. Already they knew all the ships quite well by sight, and that was all that was needed.

The Chief Contractor placed over his face the "Master-Mask," and held out his hand, which held one of the long bamboo spoons.

He announced in a solemn voice:

"We, the Chief Contractor and the Wigs, declare the fleet of our country to consist of forty ships, here drawn up in line, and the Triton is declared by us to be Admiral, Painter, Rope-maker, and Sugar-repairer. So be it."

"So be it, and long live the marzipan fleet," cried all the citizens, who had never seen the sea.

"Is there really no water anywhere?" asked Smaly a little indiscreetly.

The Chief Contractor leant towards Smaly, who was still sitting in his cauldron, and whispered low in his ear:

"Tell the truth, do you really think that that fleet needs any water?"

"I am certain of it," replied Smaly imperturbably, leaning over the edge of the cauldron towards the Chief Contractor, whereupon the Stork gently pushed him back again.

The Chief Contractor was in a great state of consternation and stood gazing from one to the other of the important officials of the Wig Republic as though for assistance, while even the crowd began uneasily to feel the effect of his dismay.

Suddenly the Chief Contractor noticed that the eye slung round the neck of the Crow was winking at him to approach. He accordingly went towards the Mother of the Crow, who spoke into his ear.

Beneath his mask the Chief Contractor's mouth began to smile. Quickly putting on the mask of "Good-Humour," he announced:

"A band of our Rats will each morning copiously water our fleet, for, believe me, no fleet is quite complete without water."

Here the Crow took two steps towards the Chief Contractor, and putting on his ebony spectacles, whispered a few words to him. The Chief Contractor thereupon added in a loud voice:

"They will not use the water of Soy."

Suddenly he perceived it was necessary to change the mask of "Good-Humour" for that of "Anger," for several audacious Wigs were busy writing their names upon the hulls of the white ships; but he had no time to give vent to his just indignation, for upon all sides the well-known cry arose:

"The prison is coming, the prison is coming."

There was no doubt about it; the Prisoner must have heard the enthusiastic shouts of the crowd, and in his mad rage was now bearing down upon the fleet. Some of the bravest Wigs managed to save a few ships, many more were weeping; but the largest number did not wait to see what was happening, but took to their heels.

Soon Smaly and Redy were almost alone in their cauldron. The forest of sugar-canes was arriving, preceded by the little army of Rats with watering-cans.

When the Prisoner was near enough to hear them, Smaly and Redy cried out:

"Djorak, Djorak, stop a minute."

When he heard real voices, human voices, Djorak paused. His rage fell from him like a cloak.

"Djorak, Djorak."

"Who calls my name?" asked the Prisoner in a husky voice, a voice which had not been used for many years.

"It's Smaly and Redy who call you. We want to help you," added Redy.

When he heard a woman's voice Djorak's thoughts flew to the three daughters he had lost, and his madness fell away from him. He drew nearer to the two little people by breaking the sugar-canes in front of him. They could now see him, and he could see them. The Rats lay down to rest, so no new sugar-canes sprang up to bar the way.

"Will you save me?" demanded Djorak.

"It will be the first thing we shall think of when we are allowed out of this cauldron."

"Cauldron?" repeated the Prisoner. "Cauldron? And when will you be allowed out of it?"

"When the sun goes down," cried Redy; "and we will give you back your daughters."

In his profound joy Djorak all but lost consciousness.

"But while we're waiting," remarked Smaly, "tell us how came it about that you were put in this prison."

But Redy interrupted to say, "First let's agree on a place where we can all meet, and what sign we shall tell it by."

So they arranged that the Prisoner should turn his prison in the direction of a red flag, which Smaly would tie to a tree near the frontier.

THE PRISONER'S STORY

"I was hurled into this country," said the Prisoner, "by the powerful breath of a Black Toad. At first I was not at all badly received. I was able to render several services to the Wigs, and was especially useful to them in building their walls of gingerbread.

"Unfortunately, however, the Chief Contractor is a fool. Without his idiotic conceit this country would be happy and prosperous, but you have undoubtedly seen for yourself what a ridiculous creature he is. Only to give you one instance, I will tell you what happened that made him put me in this prison of sugar-canes.

"One day some feather-headed person or other began describing a bridge to him. The Chief Contractor insisted on having the nature of a bridge fully explained to him, and next day he caused a canal to be dug right across the middle of the country; but all the water that they poured into it disappeared at once, for it soaked away through the soil of sugar and flour.

"However, in spite of the fact that there was no water in the canal, he caused the bridge of nougat to be built across it; the bridge which I have destroyed a hundred times passing over it in my prison.

"It was forbidden under the most heavy penalties to cross the canal, although it was dry, by any other means than by way of the bridge. I had to conform to this stupid law, in spite of the fact that the nougat cracked beneath my feet each time I crossed the bridge.

"However, one evening I was caught stepping right over their silly old dry canal with one stride.

"The Despoiler's rage, although he hid it from me, was deep and terrible. Doubtless that very evening my doom was agreed upon, for the next morning when I awoke I was surrounded by this barrier of sugar-canes," and the Prisoner wrung his hands and seemed in an impotent rage. He went on jumping up and down, and gesticulating, for his madness had caught him again.

Once more he began to break the sugar-canes in his frenzy.

At that moment Smaly and Redy saw the Despoiler pass by, followed by the Young Stork, carrying a pair of nippers.

They were on their way to a secret meeting with the Manufacturer of Cardboard Boxes.

The Despoiler seemed to be literally shaking with anger. The Young Stork had been forced to tell him that he stood in urgent need of certain repairs to his back, and the Despoiler, therefore, found himself in the humiliating situation of having to make a purchase from the Manufacturer of Cardboard Boxes.

It added to the Despoiler's vexation to have been seen by the two little humans. He stopped and looked at the sun, of which only a small piece of the rim was visible.

The Despoiler turned towards the Rats and, pointing to the cauldron, called out angrily:

"Take that and run with it to the frontier and empty it out there."

And thus it was done.

CHAPTER XIV

So Smaly and Redy found themselves on the frontier of the Wigs' country. They were so tired from having seen and done so many things during the day that hardly had they arrived than they fell sound asleep amid the myrtle-bushes which grew between the rocks.

When they awoke they perceived just within the frontier (which was indicated by boundary stones made of sugar-candy) the three gardens that had been prepared for the daughters of the Prisoner.

"The Wigs keep their word anyway," said Smaly and Redy to each other, as they rubbed their eyes; then they looked at each other and saw that their beaks had disappeared.

You may imagine how happy this made them! Never would they have dared to return to their own village with those enormous beaks stuck in the middle of their faces, even though they were invisible to all save the birds and each other.

They stood up and held hands, and to attract the attention of the Wigs began to chant:

But a sentinel who looked like a dragon-fly, and carried a lantern and a megaphone, shouted to them to be silent.

The Confectioner, who was busy giving the final directions to the gardeners, struck an attitude and recited:

"We know all about that," said Smaly and Redy together.

"What do you know?" asked the Confectioner suspiciously.

"How funny you all are," answered Smaly.

"At least we are not made of grease and suet," retorted the Confectioner in a tone of mingled pride and disgust.

The gardens were arranged after the same principle as the windows in the house of the Historian. They were not really separated by walls; but since one speaks with one's mouth and sees with one's eyes, there was at about the height where the young girls' faces would be a plank of nougat separating the gardens, and since it was certain that sometimes the girls would sit down, there was another plank a little lower.

There were altogether four planks, for as the three girls were of different ages and heights, the planks which would have prevented one girl from seeing her neighbour would not have prevented the next.

How ingenious this was! It was as well thought out as the two openings for the Flying-Fish in the ceiling of the Historian's house, a big one for the big fish, and a smaller one for the smaller fish!

In these gardens the lawns were made of angelica, and the flower-beds of jam tarts, and at the end of each garden there was a little house to sleep in at night, or in the heat of the afternoon.

When all was ready the three daughters of the Prisoner were led in. The ceremony was extremely simple. Mistigris was the first to arrive, and touching his lips with his ring, he thus addressed the two little people perched upon their rock.

"You are now about to see the three girls; but whatever you do don't forget they are ignorant of the history of their father, our prisoner. They were sent here by a certain Black Toad, the same creature who blew Djorak into our country. This Toad made out that it was doing a very charitable action, and upon a label round the neck of each young girl he had written their names and tastes. On the first label was: 'Number I, Kisika Djorak. Blue eyes, amiable disposition, fond of marrowfat peas and of getting up late.' On the second label was: 'Number II, Laptitza Djorak. Brown eyes, devoted to cherry tartlets and cheese soufflé. Gazes at the stars and dreams about a Prince Charming.' And on the third label: 'Number III, Fritilla Djorak. Green eyes, adores fruit, particularly tangerine oranges and nectarines. Dreams as much as Number II; but has very modern notions as well.'"

When Mistigris had finished reading out the labels a large sedan-chair appeared, carried by several Wigs, among them Papylick and the Young Stork. The door of the chair opened and Kisika stepped into the first garden.

Kisika certainly had beautiful blue eyes, soft hair, and a pink-and-white skin. She was so beautiful that one would have taken her for a picture rather than for a real girl.

The next person to arrive was the Despoiler, who wished to make sure for himself that the planks were at the right height before he permitted Papylick to approach with the second sedan-chair.

The young girls had not lived in these chairs, they were simply carried from place to place in them.

Kisika had lived in the house of the Crow.

Laptitza, who was now brought into the second garden, had lived in the house of Papylick. Laptitza also was very beautiful, with a pale skin and eyes like a deer.

Every one now awaited the arrival of Fritilla, the third daughter; but when she stepped out of her sedan-chair she beckoned to the Flying-Fish, who had been pursuing her for some days past, and handed it a little red feather, which she had picked up in the market-place. This feather was of great importance to the Flying-Fish, which thanked Fritilla many times and swore to serve her always. Then Fritilla was led into the garden. She had yellow hair and green eyes, and her beauty seemed at first a little sad and cold; but on looking into her eyes you saw that they were at once tender and ardent.

When the three girls were installed in their gardens of angelica and jam tarts the Wigs arranged themselves in a long line. Then the little door that led into Kisika's garden was opened, and the Chief Contractor, placing over his face the mask called "Stoic Melancholy," approached her and said:

"Kisika, farewell. I beg you to accept this large pot of Soy in memory of me. There's enough to last you all your life."

Next the Despoiler approached, followed by the Young Stork.

"Farewell, Kisika," he said. "I make you a present of this ring, which will enable your voice to carry to great distances, and will also stop all tiresome and needless voices of others."

The Confectioner next came forward and said, "Farewell, Kisika, my present is two bamboo spoons and two knives. Be happy in your garden; it's made of the best confectionery."

The Crow, putting on his spectacles, said, "Farewell, Kisika, I beg that you will accept these spectacle-lenses in memory of me. They are made of solid ebony, and some day when you have reflected enough on life you will have them mounted on glass rims and will always put them on before you speak. Farewell."

The Historian's gift consisted of six hard-boiled eggs, which he handed to Kisika, saying, "Accept my humble offering, Kisika. These eggs are home-made. Myself, I never eat anything else."

Mistigris said, "Farewell, Kisika, take this little bow and arrow made of fish-bones. Perhaps it will amuse you to play with them."

And the Young Stork added quickly, "Adieu, Kisika, take this pair of pincers to pluck from your heart the darts which may lodge in it."

The wife of the Chief Contractor presented Kisika with a beautiful fan made of paper lace; and the Healer gave her a little sugar trumpet, of which the mouthpiece was this time intact.

The Dwarf with the big head gave her a little watering-can to drink out of during the summer.

All the crews of the marzipan fleet, and the Rats, came in their turn to offer each a little souvenir.

Presently there was such an immense crowd that it seemed as though the ceremony must go on for days, since the same things had to be repeated three times, once before each garden.