Cinderella (Evans)/Chapter 6

by Charles Perrault

CHAPTER VI

The Invitation

Things went on in this way for more than two years, and during all that time Cinderella seldom spoke to her father. There was no doubt that he knew how his little daughter was being treated, but he gave no sign that he knew, or that he tried to prevent it. The fact is, he was so much afraid of his new wife that he dared not say a word. He shut himself up in his library more and more, and Cinderella heard from her step­ sisters that he was engaged in writing a book.

“It’s all about the Greeks,” said Euphronia, “nasty unfashionable creatures who lived in tubs and went about with lanterns looking for honest people.” I think she was thinking of the story of Diogenes, which Cinder­ella had told her one day when the name came up in the course of her reading from a news-sheet; but can you understand such ignorance!

Once the Baron came out of his room while Cinderella was brushing the stairs. He put his hand on her head as he used to do in the old days, and looked as if he were going to say something, but the sound of his wife’s footsteps on the stairs startled him, and he scuttled back to his room like a frightened rabbit.

Cinderella was now sixteen years of age, and in spite of her hard life had grown to be a very beautiful girl. Her pretty clothes had long ago worn out, or become too small for her, and she had to dress in odds and ends which were left off by her sisters. This would not have mattered very much if the clothes had been in good taste, for it is quite possible to look well even if one’s clothes are shabby, but both the sisters had a liking for violent colours and tasteless finery. Thus, for instance, Euphronia would come down in the evening in a gown of yellow covered with black stripes, which made her look like a zebra. You can imagine the effect of it, in contrast with her red hair and painted cheeks. Charlotte, on the other hand, loved purple and green, and she would produce the most astonishing effects by mixing these

two colours. Nothing was ever given to Cinderella until it was almost in rags, and she had the greatest difficulty in keeping herself respectable. In spite of her ragged clothes, however, she always managed to look a thousand times more beautiful than the sisters. And now we come to the turning-point of Cinderella’s life. You remember the handsome young Prince, whom

Ella had once seen driving with the King and Queen along the road that ran past the house. He had now reached the age of twenty-one years, and on the occasion of his birthday there were to be great festivities. Cinder­ella heard all about it from her sisters. For weeks before­ hand they had talked of nothing else in the evenings when Cinderella went into the drawing-room. They even neg­lected their music, and were so excited that they stopped in the middle of a most fascinating novel they were read­ing. The novel was about a poor but noble young man who was dispossessed of his rightful inheritance by a wicked uncle, and it always made Euphronia cry.

“They say that the whole town is to be illuminated,” said Charlotte, “and the fountains are going to run with wine, so that the common people can enjoy themselves.”

“I don’t see why the common people need to enjoy themselves,” said Euphronia with a sniff. “The Prince would do much better to devote his attention to the fashionable folk and the gentry. What do a lot of greasy peasants and shopkeepers want with illuminations and fountains running wine?”

“Every boy-child in the town is to have a present,” Charlotte went on, “and every girl-child a doll. That is by the Prince’s own wish, for he is very fond of children.”

“Sentimental nonsense!” cried Euphronia, tossing her head.

“And there are to be a series of grand balls at the palace, to which all the best people in the country are to be invited. We shall get an invitation, of course, for we are very important people.”

“Yes,” replied Euphronia, “we shall certainly receive an invitation,” and she was right. For one afternoon a courier from the palace came riding to the house and delivered the invitation in a large envelope, sealed with the royal seal.

Now what a scene of excitement there was! The sisters spent half the day talking about what they were going to wear, and the other half grimacing before their looking-glasses. All the dresses were brought out of the wardrobe, and Cinderella was called upstairs to admire them and to give her advice.

“I think I shall wear my red velvet gown with the English point-lace trimmings,” said Euphronia. “That is so dignified and stately, and it suits me admirably.”

“As for me,” said Charlotte, “I shall put on my purple petticoat and my green cloak that is brocaded in gold. Purple, you know, is the royal colour, and it is therefore most appropriate for a royal ball.”

Then they put the dresses on, and stalked about the room in them, posturing before the mirrors and practis­ing graceful bows and curtsies. At all hours of the day errand-boys came from the shops in the town carrying parcels—new shawls and lace kerchiefs and fancy shoes, bottles containing toilet-water and scent, boxes of black patches from the best makers and of the latest shape, fans and gloves and jewelled clasps—one would have thought that there were fifty people in the house who were going to the ball instead of only two. Cinderella was kept busy from morning till night, ironing the sisters’ linen and goffering their ruffles.

When the great day arrived, Cinderella was called upstairs to help the sisters dress. The ball did not begin until seven o’clock in the evening, but they began their preparations immediately after breakfast, and even rose at eight o’clock, which was a thing they had never done before in all their lives.

Cinderella found their room in the most hopeless confusion. There were hats and feathers on the bed, skirts and petticoats of different colours strewed all over

the floor, pins and curling-tongs and bottles on the toilet-table, and jewel-cases on the chairs. Euphronia was sitting before the mirror trying to arrange her hair over a great frame that rose a foot above her forehead; and as there was so little of it, she was having considerable difficulty. She was already dressed in her red velvet gown with green stockings and gold shoes, and she looked rather like a very large and brilliantly coloured cockatoo.

On the other side of the room, Charlotte was engaged in lacing her bodice, and had already broken a dozen laces in the attempt to make her waist smaller than nature ever intended it to be.

“Come here, you lazy little thing,” screamed Euphronia as soon as Cinderella entered the room; “come and hold these pins for me while I dress my hair. A plague on the hairdresser who sent me this cream, for it won’t keep a curl in its place. I’m driven nearly distracted.”

“Would you like me to dress your hair for you?” asked Cinderella. “I’m sure I could do it if you would let me try!”

“No, no,” cried Charlotte. “I want Cinderella to come and pull these laces a little tighter. This bodice will close quite another inch with careful coaxing.”

“Oh, you abominably selfish creature! You know very well that all the tugging in the world will not make you look genteel. It is only wasting time, and my hair must be done or I shall be late for the ball.”

And so they began one of their quarrels, and Cinder­ella had to soothe them by offering to do Euphronia’s hair first and to lace Charlotte afterwards. Beneath her deft fingers the unruly tresses soon fell into shape, and Euphronia, watching the happy result of her work in the mirror, grew quite gracious.

“That’s very becoming,” she said, stretching her lean neck this way and that. “Auburn hair is quite the fashion this year, according to the Court Intelligencer. I’m positive that I shall create a great sensation. Don’t you wish that you were going to the ball with us, Cinderella?”

“Why do you make fun of me?” said Cinderella sadly; “you know very well that such things are not for me.”

“You are right!” cried Euphronia with a spiteful laugh. “Fancy a Cinderslut at the Prince’s ball! How everybody would laugh!”

Cinderella felt very much inclined to give her step­ sister’s hair a tug, or at the very least to dress it awry; but she controlled herself with an effort, and went on quietly with her task.

“They say,” remarked Charlotte, who was carefully fixing a patch shaped like a coach and four on her cheek—“they say that the Prince is to choose a bride from among the high-born ladies who will be present at the ball. Oh, sister, suppose it should be me!”

“Pooh! What nonsense!” replied Euphronia with a giggle. “How do you get such fancies in your head? The Prince would be just as likely to choose Cinderslut here. Besides, he has dark hair and eyes, and it is well known that dark people always prefer women who are blonde, and have a touch of colour in their com­plexion.”

And in another minute they were at it again, quarrel­ling hammer and tongs, so that Cinderella’s head nearly burst with the din. At last, however, everything wasready, the carriage came to the door, and they drove away, leaving poor Cinderella gazing sadly out of the window after them.