Phantastes, A Faerie Romance

Here a low hurried cry from my hostess caused me to look up from the

book, and I read no more.

"Look there!" she said; "look at his fingers!"

Just as I had been reading in the book, the setting sun was shining

through a cleft in the clouds piled up in the west; and a shadow as of a

large distorted hand, with thick knobs and humps on the fingers, so that

it was much wider across the fingers than across the undivided part

of the hand, passed slowly over the little blind, and then as slowly

returned in the opposite direction.

"He is almost awake, mother; and greedier than usual to-night."

"Hush, child; you need not make him more angry with us than he is; for

you do not know how soon something may happen to oblige us to be in the

forest after nightfall."

"But you are in the forest," said I; "how is it that you are safe here?"

"He dares not come nearer than he is now," she replied; "for any of

those four oaks, at the corners of our cottage, would tear him to

pieces; they are our friends. But he stands there and makes awful faces

at us sometimes, and stretches out his long arms and fingers, and tries

to kill us with fright; for, indeed, that is his favourite way of doing.

Pray, keep out of his way to-night."

"Shall I be able to see these things?" said I.

"That I cannot tell yet, not knowing how much of the fairy nature there

is in you. But we shall soon see whether you can discern the fairies in

my little garden, and that will be some guide to us."

"Are the trees fairies too, as well as the flowers?" I asked.

"They are of the same race," she replied; "though those you call fairies

in your country are chiefly the young children of the flower fairies.

They are very fond of having fun with the thick people, as they call

you; for, like most children, they like fun better than anything else."

"Why do you have flowers so near you then? Do they not annoy you?"

"Oh, no, they are very amusing, with their mimicries of grown people,

and mock solemnities. Sometimes they will act a whole play through

before my eyes, with perfect composure and assurance, for they are not

afraid of me. Only, as soon as they have done, they burst into peals

of tiny laughter, as if it was such a joke to have been serious over

anything. These I speak of, however, are the fairies of the garden.

They are more staid and educated than those of the fields and woods.

Of course they have near relations amongst the wild flowers, but they

patronise them, and treat them as country cousins, who know nothing

of life, and very little of manners. Now and then, however, they are

compelled to envy the grace and simplicity of the natural flowers."