Children's stories, French -- Translations into English; Fairy tales; Fairy tales -- France
When the queen was well enough to be set to work, the Witch told her she
might build herself a hut, since she was fated to remain in her company
for the rest of her life. On hearing this the queen burst into tears.
'Alas!' she cried, 'what have I done that you should keep me here? If my
death, which I feel to be nigh, will cause you any pleasure, then I
implore you to kill me: I dare not hope for any other kindness from you.
But do not condemn me to the sadness of a life-long separation from my
husband.'
But the Lion-Witch merely laughed at her, bidding her dry her tears, if
she would be wise, and do her part to please her. Otherwise, she
declared, her lot would be the most miserable in the world.
'And what must I do to soften your heart?' replied the queen.
'I have a liking for fly-pasties,' said the Lion-Witch; 'and you must
contrive to catch flies enough to make me a large and tasty one.'
[Illustration: '_The approach to it was by ten thousand steps_']
'But there are no flies here,' rejoined the queen; 'and even if there
were there is not enough light to catch them by. Moreover, supposing I
caught some, I have never in my life made pastry. You are therefore
giving me orders which I cannot possibly carry out.'
'No matter,' said the pitiless Lion-Witch; 'what I want I will have!'
The queen made no reply, but reflected that, no matter how cruel the
Witch might be, she had only one life to lose, and in her present plight
what terror could death hold for her? She did not attempt to look for
flies, therefore, but sat down beneath a yew tree, and gave way to tears
and lamentations. 'Alas, dear husband,' she cried, 'how grieved you will
be when you go to fetch me from the castle, and find me gone! You will
suppose me to be dead or faithless; how I hope that you will mourn the
loss of my life, not the loss of my love! Perhaps the remains of my
chariot will be found in the wood, with all the ornaments I had put on
to please you: at sight of these you will not doubt any more that I am
dead. But then, how do I know that you will not bestow on some one else
the heartfelt love which once belonged to me? At all events I shall be
spared the sorrow of that knowledge, since I am never to return to the
world.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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