With a merry little laugh, the lady sprang from her chair, more lightly
far than Irene herself could, caught the child to her bosom, and kissing
the tear-stained face over and over, sat down with her in her lap.
"Oh, grandmother! you'll make yourself such a mess!" cried Irene,
clinging to her.
"You darling! do you think I care more for my dress than for my little
girl? Beside--look here!"
As she spoke she set her down, and Irene saw to her dismay that the
lovely dress was covered with the mud of her fall on the mountain road.
But the lady stooped to the fire, and taking from it, by the stalk in
her fingers, one of the burning roses, passed it once and again and a
third time over the front of her dress; and when Irene looked, not a
single stain was to be discovered.
"There!" said her grandmother, "you won't mind coming to me now?"
But Irene again hung back, eyeing the flaming rose which the lady held
in her hand.
"You're not afraid of the rose--are you?" she said, and she was about to
throw it on the hearth again.
"Oh! don't, please!" cried Irene. "Won't you hold it to my frock and my
hands and my face? And I'm afraid my feet and my knees want it too!"
"No," answered her grandmother, smiling a little sadly, as she threw the
rose from her; "it is too hot for you yet. It would set your frock in a
flame. Besides, I don't want to make you clean to-night. I want your
nurse and the rest of the people to see you as you are, for you will
have to tell them how you ran away for fear of the long-legged cat. I
should like to wash you, but they would not believe you then. Do you see
that bath behind you?"
The princess looked, and saw a large oval tub of silver, shining
brilliantly in the light of the wonderful lamp.
"Go and look into it," said the lady.
Irene went, and came back very silently, with her eyes shining.
"What did you see?" asked her grandmother.
"The sky and the moon and the stars," she answered. "It looked as if
there was no bottom to it."
The lady smiled a pleased, satisfied smile, and was silent also for a
few moments. Then she said--
"Any time you want a bath, come to me. I know you have a bath every
morning, but sometimes you want one at night too."
"Thank you, grandmother; I will--I will indeed," answered Irene, and was
again silent for some moments thinking. Then she said, "How was it,
grandmother, that I saw your beautiful lamp--not the light of it
only--but the great round silver lamp itself, hanging alone in the great
open air high up? It was your lamp I saw--wasn't it?"
"Yes, my child; it was my lamp."
"Then how was it? I don't see a window all round."
"When I please, I can make the lamp shine through the walls--shine so
strong that it melts them away from before the sight, and shows itself
as you saw it. But, as I told you, it is not everybody can see it."
"How is it that I can then? I'm sure I don't know."
"It is a gift born with you. And one day I hope everybody will have it."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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