Read Ebook: The Singing Mouse Stories by Hough Emerson Bunker Mayo Illustrator

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... "A thousand times in the night, Singing Mouse," said I, "I reach out and touch her hair, as it lies spread and dark. I whisper to her, though she be myriads of miles away among the stars; and she hears; and she answers! This is because of that thing called Love. Now, this sorrow has not yet come to me; that when I reach out my hand in the night I shall not touch her hair; that when I bend to kiss her sleeping she shall not be there any more; that when I whisper to her she may no longer answer to me, seeing that this thing called Love can be no more between us. That," said I to the Singing Mouse, "I could not endure."

Indeed, at the thought of this, so sharp an agony came to me that I arose and cried out loud. "I can not endure it, I can not endure it!" I cried .

"Ah!" said the Singing Mouse, "how idle and weak is the human mind in the country where you live. Have you not said but now that, though she be myriads of miles away among the stars, she answers you when you whisper? Does she not hear? Do not her lips move in speech as you whisper?"

"She will always hear," said the Singing Mouse. "So this sorrow will not come as you fear."

"And shall I reach out and touch her hair as it lies spread and dark?" This I asked of the Singing Mouse.

"You shall touch it, spread and dark, and fragrant as when you were young," said the Singing Mouse, "if so you wish."

So then it seemed that perhaps all sorrows, even very great ones, are a part of life. Although I know that, if I could no longer know the fragrance of her hair, or hear the whisper of her answer, then that sorrow would be more than I could bear.

THE SHOES OF THE PRINCESS

Once I was in a place where there were those who had opened many tombs, and had taken from the tombs, that had been in Egypt, and were very old, many things that had been placed there for silence and repose thousands of years ago. There were grave-clothes and grave-caskets, the one embroidered, the other graven; and the colors of both were as they were thousands of years ago. There were signs over which men pondered, not knowing their own writing, and their own thoughts, and their own fate. There were also, a sad thing to see, the bodies of those that had died long ago, that had lain down for rest and silence; and of these some were called kings, and some were called queens and others princesses; and all had once been young, and some had once been beautiful. For here, after thousands of years, was praise of their beauty, and love and care for it. So I pondered very long and sadly. But most I looked at two little golden shoes.

These little shoes had once been the shoes of one who lay here, a princess, dead thousands of years, and once very beautiful, as these carven symbols told. They were small and dainty and threaded with fine gold, and laced across with care about the feet of her who was once a woman and a princess and owner of much beauty, and who was in her life beloved, and in her death mourned; as these graven symbols said. A thousand years this love reached out its arms to her to-day; although for a thousand years Death had enfolded her in his grasp, that does not yield. She who had lain down for rest and silence was still here, withal at rest in her grave-garb, and silent in her sleep; but those who had done these things had removed the grave-clothing so that these small shoes could be seen, still upon the feet of the princess that had slept a thousand years, enfolded in love.

For a price these might have sold the shoes of the princess, for there were those cruel enough to strip her of that which she had worn when she lay down to be alone. But this I could not do. I did not carry away the shoes in my hands, but in some way it seemed to me that I took them; for that night, as I sat at the little table in my room, with the dim light falling as is its wont at those hours, I saw upon the table before me these same shoes of the princess of thousands of years ago, small and golden; things to make one weep, so sad their story, disturbed thus after they had been placed away for silence. I gazed at them for a time, and presently I saw appear upon the table beside them, the form of the Singing Mouse, as tall perhaps as the fronts of these golden shoes.

"See," said the Singing Mouse, "here are her shoes, those of the princess who has been resting. They crossed the paved floors of palaces. They knew the steps of a throne. They were made by love for love and given in love to rest and silence. She was as one you have known, as many whom others know now. Tell me, is she not beautiful?"

I saw standing before me the figure of the princess, tall and slender and very beautiful. And now the grave garments were not seen, for her robe was of silk, new and soft and shapely like to herself, and her arms were round and soft, and her eyes were full and dark, and her hair was as deep shadows. A band of gold was about her brow, and her cheek was red and tender in its bloom. Her neck was white and round, and her hands were white, and her slender fingers curved slightly as her arms hung down by her sides. Her feet were small and straight, and all, all of her was beautiful, and she was a princess.

Now as I gazed, I saw the face and saw that it was one I knew, and had known long; so then I knew that the princess who was placed away for rest and silence had never died; for did she not stand here before me, and had I not long known her thus? Ah, beautiful!

I took up these small golden shoes in my hands and held them out to her. "Take these little shoes," I said, "wrought as cunning as man may know. Place them upon thy feet for me, and may never thorn assail thee in all thy going. Wear them and tread the steps of thrones, years and years, ages and ages, Princess, beloved! See, they are wrought in love."

Now I saw upon the lips of the princess who had lain down thousands of years ago, but who lives in a place I know to-day, a smile, very faint and far away. So as the Singing Mouse told me, it was to be seen that she did not die. Even as she faded away from the wall against which she stood, I knew, though I wept, that the princess was not dead and would not die. She was beautiful, she was beloved; and these things have not died. "Ah, beautiful!" I said to the Singing Mouse. "But alas! for a princess there should be a palace, and here is none!"

"Look about you," said the Singing Mouse. "See, for the time this is a palace."

I looked about me, and it was as the Singing Mouse said. For the time my room was a palace. I saw standing there again the princess, upon her feet small golden shoes.

"What is this?" I asked. "And who am I?" But as I turned, I saw that the Singing Mouse was gone. But this I knew, and so may you know: that love does not die; and here was proof of it.

OF WHITE MOTHS

"Once," said the Singing Mouse, "I was at the side of a little stream. Grasses grew all about, and small plants and flowers. Beyond the shores of the little stream arose a forest, wide and dark, into which the eye could reach but a little way.

"As I stood near the little stream, there arose from the grass and flowers two small moths, soft and dainty, beautiful, and very white, covered also with a white dust or powder which was so light that did they but receive a touch they must lose some of this soft white powder and so be injured, so gentle and tender were they.

"These two moths, soft and white and silent, arose in the air and circled one about the other, rising for a time, then falling, but ever circling one about the other. It seemed that perhaps they spoke one to the other, but if that were true it was in speech so small that not even I could hear it. They passed over the tops of the grasses and flowers, up and up, until they reached the tops of the trees, where they seemed very small.

"I do not know why these moths no longer cared for the grasses and flowers. But I saw them, circling, cross over the little stream, high in the air, and then pass on directly into the wide dark forest. For a moment they appeared, a small spot of white, against the black shadows of the forest across the stream; then they went on, straight into the shadows, until I could no longer see this small spot of white they made.

"It is in this way," said the Singing Mouse, "that human souls pass through life. To me, who can see them, they look small and delicate and white; and they circle one about another; and they pass on, into the deep forest."

THE HOUSE OF DREAMS

"Upon what couch," I asked the Singing Mouse, "may one have the most noble dreams?"

The Singing Mouse sat for a time and looked at me with its bright eye, and it seemed to me that the walls opened and widened. I saw that I was within a great palace, whose walls were hung in tapestries, and whose doors were of golden panelings, and whose windows were of curious crystals, and whose furnishings were rich and wonderful, and around whose stately limits swam wide gardens of strange flowers, full of deep perfumes. I heard soft voices of birds and the music also of gentle human voices singing, and tenderly played instruments of silken and silvern strings. It seemed to me that I lay upon a great couch of thrice-piled down, and touched hands with delights in all manners that one could think. But alas! I did not dream as I lay upon this couch.

Then I saw these walls fade away in turn, and in their stead arose a vast cathedral of the woods. A music was in the trees, and a solemn mountain stood as orator to the sky for me. My couch was that of the earth and the leaves, and my jewels were upon the grasses all about. I touched hands with delights; and so I dreamed, and was very happy and content.

Again the place changed, and I lay in my own small room, with naked walls and little cheer or comfort, as you may see. The couch was hard and narrow, and that which covered it over was worn and threadbare, and by no means cloth of woven silk and golden tracery. But it seemed to me that upon the walls were pictures. And here and there were shadows of things which I had wished--many things, very sweet and precious. Upon this couch, as upon that of the earth, it seemed to me that I dreamed....

"There were once some leaves and grasses in this couch," said the Singing Mouse, "and that is why you dreamed. Around this manner of resting-place often arises the House of Dreams, and not, as many have supposed, about the couch of down and silken tapestries. Always, near a House of Dreams, must be a mountain or a sea, and trees, and grasses, with the sky also, and the stars, which are the candles of our dream houses. See, you had not noticed it, but there is a star in your candle."

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