A Little Book of Profitable Tales | Page 8

will have a merry time amongst them, ha, ha, ha!"
And with laughter the wind whirled away and chased the snow toward
the cathedral.
"It is there, then, that the prince will come," thought Barbara. "It is a
beautiful place, and the people will pay him homage there. Perhaps I
shall see him if I go there."
So she went to the cathedral. Many folk were there in their richest
apparel, and the organ rolled out its grand music, and the people sang
wondrous songs, and the priests made eloquent prayers; and the music,
and the songs, and the prayers were all about the prince and his
expected coming. The throng that swept in and out of the great edifice
talked always of the prince, the prince, the prince, until Barbara really
loved him very much, for all the gentle words she heard the people say
of him.

"Please, can I go and sit inside?" inquired Barbara of the sexton.
"No!" said the sexton, gruffly, for this was an important occasion with
the sexton, and he had no idea of wasting words on a beggar child.
"But I will be very good and quiet," pleaded Barbara. "Please, may I
not see the prince?"
"I have said no, and I mean it," retorted the sexton. "What have you for
the prince, or what cares the prince for you? Out with you, and don't be
blocking up the doorway!" So the sexton gave Barbara an angry push,
and the child fell half-way down the icy steps of the cathedral. She
began to cry. Some great people were entering the cathedral at the time,
and they laughed to see her falling.
"Have you seen the prince?" inquired a snowflake, alighting on
Barbara's cheek. It was the same little snowflake that had clung to her
shawl an hour ago, when the wind came galloping along on his
boisterous search.
"Ah, no!" sighed Barbara, in tears; "but what cares the prince for
_me_?"
"Do not speak so bitterly," said the little snowflake. "Go to the forest
and you shall see him, for the prince always comes through the forest to
the city."
Despite the cold, and her bruises, and her tears, Barbara smiled. In the
forest she could behold the prince coming on his way; and he would
not see her, for she would hide among the trees and vines.
"Whirr-r-r, whirr-r-r!" It was the mischievous, romping wind once
more; and it fluttered Barbara's tattered shawl, and set her hair to
streaming in every direction, and swept the snowflake from her cheek
and sent it spinning through the air.
Barbara trudged toward the forest. When she came to the city gate the
watchman stopped her, and held his big lantern in her face, and asked
her who she was and where she was going.
"I am Barbara, and I am going into the forest," said she, boldly.
"Into the forest?" cried the watchman, "and in this storm? No, child;
you will perish!"
"But I am going to see the prince," said Barbara. "They will not let me
watch for him in the church, nor in any of their pleasant homes, so I am
going into the forest."
The watchman smiled sadly. He was a kindly man; he thought of his

own little girl at home.
"No, you must not go to the forest," said he, "for you would perish with
the cold."
But Barbara would not stay. She avoided the watchman's grasp and ran
as fast as ever she could through the city gate.
"Come back, come back!" cried the watchman; "you will perish in the
forest!"
But Barbara would not heed his cry. The falling snow did not stay her,
nor did the cutting blast. She thought only of the prince, and she ran
straightway to the forest.
II
"What do you see up there, O pine-tree?" asked a little vine in the
forest.
"You lift your head among the clouds tonight, and you tremble
strangely as if you saw wondrous sights."
"I see only the distant hill-tops and the dark clouds," answered the
pine-tree. "And the wind sings of the snow-king to-night; to all my
questionings he says, 'Snow, snow, snow,' till I am weary with his
refrain."
"But the prince will surely come to-morrow?" inquired the tiny
snowdrop that nestled close to the vine.
"Oh, yes," said the vine. "I heard the country folks talking about it as
they went through the forest to-day, and they said that the prince would
surely come on the morrow."
"What are you little folks down there talking about?" asked the
pine-tree.
"We are talking about the prince," said the vine.
"Yes, he is to come on the morrow," said the pine-tree, "but not until
the day dawns, and it is still all dark in the east."
"Yes,"