Phantastes, A Faerie Romance

"I spent it in the forest. I had lost my way."

"Ah! then, perhaps, you will be able to convince my good woman, that

there is nothing very remarkable about the forest; for, to tell the

truth, it bears but a bad name in these parts. I dare say you saw

nothing worse than yourself there?"

"I hope I did," was my inward reply; but, for an audible one, I

contented myself with saying, "Why, I certainly did see some appearances

I could hardly account for; but that is nothing to be wondered at in an

unknown wild forest, and with the uncertain light of the moon alone to

go by."

"Very true! you speak like a sensible man, sir. We have but few sensible

folks round about us. Now, you would hardly credit it, but my wife

believes every fairy-tale that ever was written. I cannot account for

it. She is a most sensible woman in everything else."

"But should not that make you treat her belief with something of

respect, though you cannot share in it yourself?"

"Yes, that is all very well in theory; but when you come to live

every day in the midst of absurdity, it is far less easy to behave

respectfully to it. Why, my wife actually believes the story of the

'White Cat.' You know it, I dare say."

"I read all these tales when a child, and know that one especially

well."

"But, father," interposed the little girl in the chimney-corner, "you

know quite well that mother is descended from that very princess who was

changed by the wicked fairy into a white cat. Mother has told me so a

many times, and you ought to believe everything she says."

"I can easily believe that," rejoined the farmer, with another fit of

laughter; "for, the other night, a mouse came gnawing and scratching

beneath the floor, and would not let us go to sleep. Your mother sprang

out of bed, and going as near it as she could, mewed so infernally like

a great cat, that the noise ceased instantly. I believe the poor mouse

died of the fright, for we have never heard it again. Ha! ha! ha!"

The son, an ill-looking youth, who had entered during the conversation,

joined in his father's laugh; but his laugh was very different from the

old man's: it was polluted with a sneer. I watched him, and saw that,

as soon as it was over, he looked scared, as if he dreaded some evil

consequences to follow his presumption. The woman stood near, waiting

till we should seat ourselves at the table, and listening to it all

with an amused air, which had something in it of the look with which one

listens to the sententious remarks of a pompous child. We sat down to

supper, and I ate heartily. My bygone distresses began already to look

far off.