Children's stories, French -- Translations into English; Fairy tales; Fairy tales -- France
Over went the chariot. She lacked the strength to jump clear quickly
enough, and her foot was caught between the wheel and the axle-tree. It
was only by a miracle that she was not killed, and she lay stretched on
the ground at the foot of a tree, with her heart scarcely beating and
her face covered with blood, unable to speak.
For a long time she lay thus. At last she opened her eyes and saw,
standing beside her, a woman of gigantic stature. The latter wore nought
but a lion's skin; her arms and legs were bare, and her hair was tied up
with a dried snake's skin, the head of which dangled over her shoulder.
In her hand she carried, for walking-stick, a stone club, and a quiver
full of arrows hung at her side.
This extraordinary apparition convinced the queen that she was dead, and
indeed it seemed impossible that she could have survived so terrible a
disaster. 'No wonder death needs resolution,' she murmured, 'since
sights so terrible await one in the other world.'
The giantess overheard these words, and laughed to find the queen
thought herself dead.
'Courage,' she said; 'you are still in the land of the living, though
your lot is not improved. I am the Lion-Witch. My dwelling is near by;
you must come and live with me.'
'If you will have the kindness, good Lion-Witch, to take me back to my
castle, the king, who loves me dearly, will not refuse you any ransom
you demand, though it were the half of his kingdom.'
'I will not do that,' replied the giantess, 'for I have wealth enough
already. Moreover, I am tired of living alone, and as you have your wits
about you it is possible you may be able to amuse me.'
With these words she assumed the shape of a lioness, and taking the
queen on her back, bore her off into the depths of a cavern. There she
anointed the queen's wounds with an essence which quickly healed them.
But imagine the wonder and despair of the queen to find herself in this
dismal lair! The approach to it was by ten thousand steps, which led
downward to the centre of the earth, and the only light was that which
came from a number of lofty lamps, reflected in a lake of quicksilver.
This lake teemed with monsters, each of which was hideous enough to
have terrified one far less timid than the queen. Ravens, screech-owls,
and many another bird of evil omen filled the air with harsh cries. Far
off could be espied a mountain, from the slopes of which there flowed
the tears of all hapless lovers. Its sluggish stream was fed by every
ill-starred love. The trees had neither leaves nor fruit, and the ground
was cumbered with briars, nettles, and rank weeds. The food, too, was
such as might be expected in such a horrid clime. A few dried roots,
horse-chestnuts, and thorn-apples--this was all the fare with which the
Lion-Witch appeased the hunger of those who fell into her clutches.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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