# The Pall Mall Magazine/The Princess Whom No One Had Seen

Extracted from The Pall Mall Magazine, March 1908, pp. 386–389. Illustrations omitted.
THE PRINCESS WHOM NO ONE HAD SEEN
A STORY FOR CHILDREN.
BY CONSTANCE SMEDLEY
Illustrated By Maxwell Armfield.
ONCE upon a time there was a proud Princess. She lived in a castle high up on the hill, and looked down on everybody. She knew that no one could possibly come up to her, because across the road that led to her front door was a tremendously deep stream, so deep that it was quite unfordable; and in front of the stream was an enormous tree, so big that no one could get round it, and only exceptionally clever people could climb over it. And so the Princess was able to sit on the terrace with her nose in the air and look over the stream and tree down the steep white road which led to the town where the suitors lived.
Of course she had heaps and heaps of suitors, For one thing, the Princess had caused a proclamation to be fairly widely circulated to the effect that her hand should be given in marriage to the man who could gain entrance to the castle; moreover, to keep herself before the public, the Princess would sometimes slip out by the back door of the castle and drive down into the town, and parade the streets in her golden carriage. Then she would look out of her eyes in a way that made every man feel anxious for nothing so much as to make the Princess loving and obedient; and, when he looked into the Princess's eyes, every man felt pretty sure he could manage it—if he could only get to the castle.
The Princess had to encourage the suitors like this, because she had nothing in the world to do but sit and watch them come up the steep white road. This wasn't such a very lively occupation, even when suitors were plenteous; and the Princess grew more disdainful every day—disdainful of the suitors, and disdainful of her Maids—until at last the only person she wasn't disdainful of was her beautiful self. She thought herself extremely superior.
As for imagining the suitors had any claims to be treated with consideration, the mere idea made her stick her little nose up higher and higher. They seemed so ridiculous from the height at which she looked down on them; besides, it quite irritated her to see the important way in which they strutted up. The very clever ones brought ladders and ropes and climbing appliances, and one or two surmounted the tree and plunged into the roaring stream. This afforded amusement at least, for their antics when drowning were as lively as those of marionettes, and the Princess would give a languid smile and make wagers with her Maids as to how long it would be before the silly creatures sank.
This was cruel, but then she had so little excitement; for, though the suitors who failed were well whipped as they ran down the road, all men look much the same under the lash. In fact, the only suitor who did not skip and howl was the fat old mayor. He came every Tuesday, he was so very ambitious; and he was too fat to do anything but waddle along like a tired frog.
But at last even the sight of the mayor palled on her, and she shut her eyes tight every Tuesday afternoon, and kept them shut until her Maids told her he had come and gone.
Illustration: “A line of smoke began to wend its way up through the leaves—smoke that soon was mixed with flame.”
She was sitting on the terrace one Tuesday, yawning away as usual and playing with her rings, when suddenly she heard a great scuttering and chattering among her maids. She was rather astonished at the mayor causing such commotion, and, turning her head listlessly, she beheld them all in a row craning their necks over the terrace wall. Their backs looked so shocked and so interested that she saw at once it could not be the mayor, so she looked too; and there, far away on the road below, was the shabbiest fellow coming along. The sunlight caught his hair and made it shine like flame; his jerkin was stained and old, and his cap was stuck on the back of his head in a devil-may-care fashion. It was plain he was very, very poor, his knapsack was lean and his face quite lantern-jawed; but for all that, he had the most determined manner and strode up the road at a pace like a coach and four.
And the nearer he came, the louder grew the whispering of the Maids-of-honour.
“Did you ever see such impudence?”
“Or such clothes?”
“Well, that's the impudence! Just look at his shoes! Why, his toes are sticking out!” and the Maids all said, “Oooh! Oooh!” and hid their eyes; but they soon peeped out again.
As for the Princess, she never took her eyes off him, for something in his gait and bearing made her heart stir in the queerest manner; and, though she was almost certain she was very annoyed at his rags and roughness, she could not be quite positively sure—especially when the sound of his whistle came up to her, sweet and clear like a thread of silver music; it made her heart stand still.
But the stranger never looked up at the Princess at all; he didn't so much as glance at the castle. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed on the tree, and when he came up to it, walked first to one side, then to the other, in a light-hearted, considering way, as if the tree were not of any great importance. And this made the Princess's heart tighten foolishly, and she clenched her white fingers and said under her breath, “How I shall enjoy seeing you jump beneath the lash when you turn your back on the tree!”
The stranger showed no signs of turning, however: instead, he was bending down, collecting twigs and sticks and leaves; and presently he had piled a great heap round the trunk. A flash appeared in the shadow, and a line of smoke began to wend its way up through the leaves—smoke that soon was mixed with flame.
The Maids were nearly toppling over the wall in their excitement.
“Your Highness! your Highness!” they cried: “shan't we order the servants to drive him away?”
“No,” said the Princess. “We must be fair: besides, he has yet to pass the stream. It will be amusing to watch him borne away by the current.” But as she spoke her face grew pale.
At that moment there came a tremendous crash and a cloud of smoke; and then the Princess and the Maids clasped their hands simultaneously, for the tree had fallen right across the stream, and the stranger was leaping from bough to bough like a monkey.
“He's done it!” the Maids gasped, and looked at the Princess in horror, But she was standing quite still, with her hand on her heart.
Over he came, jumping as carelessly as a squirrel, and never glancing at the roaring torrent; but neither did he look at the castle, even when he leapt down upon the path that led up the hill, alongside of the terrace. He walked straight on, and they saw he was going to pass the gate without so much as a glance in their direction. So all the little Maids ran along the terrace wall calling, “Hi! Hi! Here's the Princess!”
Then the stranger looked up at them.
“What princess?” said he.
“Why! the Proud Princess,” said they in their high, quick voices—“the Proud Princess that you've come to marry. There she is!” and they pointed to the Princess, who was trying to look prouder than she had ever looked in her life.
It was quite wasted, because the stranger didn't give the littlest glance at her.
“Not I!” said he. “I'll marry no princess.”
“Oh, oh, oh!” gasped all the Maids, so taken aback they didn't know what to do; the stranger's voice was so clear and loud that they were perfectly certain the Princess must have heard every word. She had certainly gone a beautiful pink colour.
“Oh!” said they again; and their voices sounded like the rushing of a flight of birds. “Oh, oh! Then why did you come over the stream?”
“Because my way lay over it,” said he in a determined manner; and he shouldered his knapsack and took a step forward.
“But——” said all the Maids together; and then were silent, because the Princess had come up to them.
“Be quiet!” she said, and from her tone you could see she didn't consider they were managing well at all. She pushed through their frightened ranks and stood out upon the terrace wall. Her eyes shone like stars; her cheeks were red as rubies.
“Where are you going, sirrah?” said the Princess, and her voice was so haughty that her Maids felt like sinking in the earth.
“Up the path to where it leads me,” said the stranger.
“It leads to the mountains,” said the Princess,
“So it appears,” said the stranger.
“No one lives there: what are you seeking?” asked the Princess.
“I am on a quest,” replied the stranger—“the quest of the Princess whom no one has seen.” He hadn't the grace to look up at the Princess: he seemed too impatient to be off.
“But what has made you take this road?” asked the Princess: his irritation appeared to whet her curiosity.
“A witch who sat by the roadside directed me in return for some small service I rendered her,” the stranger answered. “She told me of the Princess: and, as it is plain you are not she, it is plain I must go on;” and he shouldered his knapsack,
“Stop, stop!” said the Princess in a queer, choky voice. “Wh—what is she like?”
“Humble, simple, and kind,” said the stranger. “Not in the least like you. I hate proud women. Besides, your pride is public property. I want a private princess.”
The Princess gave a little gasp as if she had been struck: every one of her Maids had heard.
The stranger heard the gasp and raised his eyes for the first time to the Princess's face: his gaze stayed on her. He had an odd fancy that she had a humble look.
Certainly, as he looked, strange tears welled up into the Princess's eyes, and her cheeks grew pink as a garden rose.
“Then you don't want to marry me at all?” said the Princess; and this was really very simple of her, because it gave the stranger such a chance to snub.
He was just about to take it, when it suddenly occurred to him how simple she was to ask such an obvious question, and he looked at her for the second time.
This time they looked at each other, and both stood still, not saying a word, till they were roused by the shrillest scream.
Lo and behold! the Maids were dancing with excitement. Across the bridge of the fallen tree was coming the mayor clumpety cloppety over the planks which his servants had thrown between the branches. Suitors were appearing behind in the far distance like a swarm of flies. Two had even gained the tree.
“Oh!” said the Princess, turning to look. “Oh!”—and her cheeks grew white as elder-flowers—“I'll have to marry the mayor, as you don't want me. Well, he's been very devoted. I wish—I wish I hadn't had him whipped quite so often and quite so hard.”
At this, all the Maids' mouths dropped wide open, and they looked from one to the other and then again at the Princess, whispering and scuffling and squeaking like mice.
“This isn't our Princess!” “This can't be our Proud Princess!” “See how different she looks!”
“Quite different.” “We've never seen that look—we never have seen it at all.” “Nor this Princess—this new Princess.”
But the stranger was gazing at the Princess for the third time; and there could be no doubt at all that she looked kind.
“You are quite different,” said he.
“I feel different,” said the Princess; and her eyes entreated and entreated.
“You are humble, simple, and kind,” said he.
“Oh! I hope so,” said she.
The Maids opened their eyes, and they all looked fearfully shy. For the Princess had slipped down from the wall and stood on the path below: and the stranger was kissing this Princess whom no one had seen.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1941, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 82 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
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