CHAPTER IX
The Second Night
“So there you are,” said the old woman. “I was just getting anxious about you. I thought you might have been tempted to disregard my warning, which would have been a great disaster. Did you enjoy yourself at the ball?”
“Oh, godmother,” cried Cinderella, her eyes sparkling, “it was lovely, and I would have liked to stay there for ever. The Prince was so kind to me and paid me such honour that one would have thought I was the greatest lady in the land. There is to be another ball to-morrow night, and the Prince has invited me. I should so much like to go.”
“Well, we will see about that,” said her godmother. “But be very careful what you say to your stepsisters. Do not let your excitement run away with you, or you will spoil everything.”
Just then there came a loud knocking at the door. It was the sisters returning. The old woman stepped back and vanished up the chimney, and Cinderella ran to let the sisters in.
“Heigho!” she said, rubbing her eyes and yawning as though she had just awakened from sleep. “How late you are! You must be tired out.”
“Tired, do you say?” cried Euphronia. “If you had been to the ball, child, I’ll warrant you would be less sleepy than you are. But there,” she continued with a scornful sniff, “what can one expect a kitchen-wench to know of the doings of high life!”
“I suppose it was very wonderful!” said Cinderella humbly.
“Yes, indeed,” said Charlotte. “There came to the ball the most beautiful Princess that ever was seen, and she paid us great attentions, I can tell you. She talked to us for the greater part of the evening, and even sat opposite to us at supper and gave us oranges and citrons.”
“Do tell me about her,” said Cinderella, in great delight. “What was her name, and how was she dressed?”
“That is the strange part of it,” said Charlotte.
“Nobody knew who she was or whence she came, though it was plain to see that she was a very grand Princess. The King’s son was very puzzled about it, and we heard him say, after she had gone, that he would give all he had in the world to know her name. As for her dress, I cannot even begin to describe it. It was just a little bit too plain and lacking in colour for my taste, but the material was certainly most costly, and the fashion highly original!”
“Oh dear!” sighed Cinderella. “I do wish that I could see her! Will you not let me go with you tomorrow night? I could wear that yellow dress of Euphronia’s if she would lend it to me.”
“What!” screamed Euphronia. “I never heard
Cinderella made no reply—and, to tell the truth, she was delighted by Euphronia’s refusal to lend her the gown. If she had it, she would not have known what to do with it.
The next day the sisters slept very late, and even Cinderella did not rise till past her usual hour. When breakfast was over, another scene of excitement began, for the sisters had to dress themselves for the second ball, and both of them wanted their dresses altered as
It was a quarter to seven, and as yet there was no sign of her godmother. Anxiously Cinderella watched the clock, the hands of which had never seemed to move so slowly before, and she was just beginning to despairof the old woman’s coming when she heard a cough behind her, and, turning quickly, saw her standing in the doorway.
“Ha-ha!” said the old woman, smiling. “You were getting impatient, I see ! Well, well, I will not chide
“Yes, yes, here they are,” cried Cinderella, “all except the lizards, and I will go and fetch them at once. There are six more mice in the trap, and a rat that will make the most magnificent coachman. Oh, godmother, how good you are to me!”
She danced with joy as the old woman, with a touch of her stick, caused the grand coach^and horses, the portly coachman and the lackeys to appear. Last of all, she received a touch on the shoulder herself, and her rags gave place to a dress that was even more magnificent than the one she had worn on the previous night. This time it was of the palest yellow silk, shaded in colour like a tea-rose, and the glass shoes on her feet were delicately edged with gold.
Once again the old woman warned her not on any account to stay at the palace after twelve o’clock, for on the last stroke of the hour all her beautiful things would change back again, and she would appear as a mere kitchen-maid, garbed in rags. Cinderella promised to give heed to her words and drove away.
When she arrived at the palace she found the Prince already waiting for her, all on fire with impatience, for he had begun to fear that she was not coming. As before, he led her into the ballroom on his arm, and gave her the place of honour among his guests. All the evening he never left her side, and he whispered a thousand tender things to her as they sat beneath the palms on the terrace.
Cinderella was silent, but she could not help wondering what the Prince would say it he could see her at home, in her dingy kitchen, washing up the greasy crockery, or scrubbing the floor.
So the time passed very pleasantly amid a thousand delights, and Cinderella quite forgot her godmother’s warning.
Suddenly she was horrified to hear the big clock in the tower strike the first note of twelve.
With a cry of alarm she sprang to her feet, and without even pausing to say good-bye, rushed out of the ballroom, down the steps of the terrace and into the palace garden, So great was her haste that one of her glass slippers came off and she did not even notice her loss.
Four, five, six! chimed the clock, and Cinderella ran as she had never run before. She lost herself in the shrubberies, and found her way out again, blundered among the flower-beds, and snapped the roses from their stalks in the speed of her flight.
Seven, eight, nine!
She crossed a lawn and found herself on a wide drive bordered by trees, which she knew must lead to the palace gates.
Ten, eleven, twelve!
And on the stroke of twelve her beautiful gown changed into the ragged dress of a kitchen-maid.
A few minutes afterwards the guards at the palace gate saw the figure of a poorly dressed girl flit by. They wondered who she could be, and what she was doing in the grounds at that hour, but the matter seemed very
Cinderella ran all the way home, and arrived at last panting and breathless, just in time to open the door for the sisters.
She asked them whether they had enjoyed themselves as much as on the previous night, and whether the beautiful Princess had been at the ball. They told her all about it, not because they wished to please her—for, as Euphronia said, it was mere waste of time to talk to a kitchen-slut like Cinderella about such fashionable doings—but because they were so excited that they simply had to talk to somebody.
“And what do you think!” said Charlotte, after her sister had related how the Princess, on the stroke of twelve, had rushed away, leaving her slipper behind. “What do you think! The Prince kept that slipper in his hand all the rest of the evening, and I saw him kiss it when he thought nobody was looking.
“Foolish creature!” cried Euphronia with a toss of her head.
“I do not know about that,” remarked Charlotte. “It is plain to see that the Prince loves that beautiful lady and will never be happy until he finds her again.”
At these words the tears filled Cinderella’s eyes, and she had to turn away quickly for fear her sisters should notice her agitation.
“It is the Princess he loves,” she thought sadly. “If he could see me now in these ragged clothes, or find me at my drudgery in the kitchen, would he recognize me? And even if he did know me again, would he not be horrified to think that he had danced with a kitchen-maid?”
And then she thought that everything was better as it was. The Prince would never see her again, and in time, perhaps, he might forget. But Cinderella would never forget. She knew that all her life long the memory of those two happy evenings would remain with her always, like a beautiful dream.