Phantastes: A Faerie Romance for Men and WomenMacDonald, George
Science
Phantastes: A Faerie Romance for Men and Women
MacDonald, George
Fantasy fiction
But the most dreadful thing of all was, that I now began to feel
something like satisfaction in the presence of the shadow. I began to
be rather vain of my attendant, saying to myself, “In a land like this,
with so many illusions everywhere, I need his aid to disenchant the
things around me. He does away with all appearances, and shows me
things in their true colour and form. And I am not one to be fooled
with the vanities of the common crowd. I will not see beauty where
there is none. I will dare to behold things as they are. And if I live
in a waste instead of a paradise, I will live knowing where I live.”
But of this a certain exercise of his power which soon followed quite
cured me, turning my feelings towards him once more into loathing and
distrust. It was thus:
One bright noon, a little maiden joined me, coming through the wood in
a direction at right angles to my path. She came along singing and
dancing, happy as a child, though she seemed almost a woman. In her
hands—now in one, now in another—she carried a small globe, bright and
clear as the purest crystal. This seemed at once her plaything and her
greatest treasure. At one moment, you would have thought her utterly
careless of it, and at another, overwhelmed with anxiety for its
safety. But I believe she was taking care of it all the time, perhaps
not least when least occupied about it. She stopped by me with a smile,
and bade me good day with the sweetest voice. I felt a wonderful liking
to the child—for she produced on me more the impression of a child,
though my understanding told me differently. We talked a little, and
then walked on together in the direction I had been pursuing. I asked
her about the globe she carried, but getting no definite answer, I held
out my hand to take it. She drew back, and said, but smiling almost
invitingly the while, “You must not touch it;”—then, after a moment’s
pause—“Or if you do, it must be very gently.” I touched it with a
finger. A slight vibratory motion arose in it, accompanied, or perhaps
manifested, by a faint sweet sound. I touched it again, and the sound
increased. I touched it the third time: a tiny torrent of harmony
rolled out of the little globe. She would not let me touch it any more.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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