Children's stories; Fairy tales; Fantasy literature
The whole nine-and-forty obeyed at once, each for himself, and after his
own fashion. A scene of confusion and terror followed. The crowd
scattered like a dance of flies. The creatures had been instructed not
to hurt much, but to hunt incessantly, until every one had rushed
from the house. The women shrieked, and ran hither and thither through
the hall, pursued each by her own horror, and snapped at by every other
in passing. If one threw herself down in hysterical despair, she was
instantly poked or clawed or nibbled up again. Though they were quite as
frightened at first, the men did not run so fast; and by-and-by some of
them, finding they were only glared at, and followed, and pushed, began
to summon up courage once more, and with courage came impudence. The
tapir had the big footman in charge: the fellow stood stock-still, and
let the beast come up to him, then put out his finger and playfully
patted his nose. The tapir gave the nose a little twist, and the finger
lay on the floor. Then indeed the footman ran, and did more than run,
but nobody heeded his cries. Gradually the avengers grew more severe,
and the terrors of the imagination were fast yielding to those of
sensuous experience, when a page, perceiving one of the doors no longer
guarded, sprang at it, and ran out. Another and another followed. Not a
beast went after, until, one by one, they were every one gone from the
hall, and the whole menie in the kitchen. There they were beginning to
congratulate themselves that all was over, when in came the creatures
trooping after them, and the second act of their terror and pain began.
They were flung about in all directions; their clothes were torn from
them; they were pinched and scratched any and everywhere; Ballbody kept
rolling up them and over them, confining his attentions to no one in
particular; the scorpion kept grabbing at their legs with his huge
pincers; a three-foot centipede kept screwing up their bodies, nipping
as he went; varied as numerous were their woes. Nor was it long before
the last of them had fled from the kitchen to the sculleries. But
thither also they were followed, and there again they were hunted about.
They were bespattered with the dirt of their own neglect; they were
soused in the stinking water that had boiled greens; they were smeared
with rancid dripping; their faces were rubbed in maggots: I dare not
tell all that was done to them. At last they got the door into a
back-yard open, and rushed out. Then first they knew that the wind was
howling and the rain falling in sheets. But there was no rest for them
even there. Thither also were they followed by the inexorable avengers,
and the only door here was a door out of the palace: out every soul of
them was driven, and left, some standing, some lying, some crawling, to
the farther buffeting of the waterspouts and whirlwinds ranging every
street of the city. The door was flung to behind them, and they heard it
locked and bolted and barred against them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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