The Phoenix and the Carpet | Page 9

fire of sweet-scented woods and gums, though,'
said Cyril.
'And--and it was an accident my putting you on the fire,' said Robert,
telling the truth with some difficulty, for he did not know how the
Phoenix might take it. It took it in the most unexpected manner.
'Your candid avowal,' it said, 'removes my last scruple. I will tell you
my story.'
'And you won't vanish, or anything sudden will you?, asked Anthea,
anxiously.
'Why?' it asked, puffing out the golden feathers, 'do you wish me to
stay here?'
'Oh YES,' said every one, with unmistakable sincerity.
'Why?' asked the Phoenix again, looking modestly at the table-cloth.
'Because,' said every one at once, and then stopped short; only Jane
added after a pause, 'you are the most beautiful person we've ever seen.'
'You are a sensible child,' said the Phoenix, 'and I will NOT vanish or
anything sudden. And I will tell you my tale. I had resided, as your
book says, for many thousand years in the wilderness, which is a large,
quiet place with very little really good society, and I was becoming
weary of the monotony of my existence. But I acquired the habit of
laying my egg and burning myself every five hundred years--and you
know how difficult it is to break yourself of a habit.'
'Yes,' said Cyril; 'Jane used to bite her nails.'

'But I broke myself of it,' urged Jane, rather hurt, 'You know I did.'
'Not till they put bitter aloes on them,' said Cyril.
'I doubt,' said the bird, gravely, 'whether even bitter aloes (the aloe, by
the way, has a bad habit of its own, which it might well cure before
seeking to cure others; I allude to its indolent practice of flowering but
once a century), I doubt whether even bitter aloes could have cured ME.
But I WAS cured. I awoke one morning from a feverish dream--it was
getting near the time for me to lay that tiresome fire and lay that tedious
egg upon it--and I saw two people, a man and a woman. They were
sitting on a carpet--and when I accosted them civilly they narrated to
me their life-story, which, as you have not yet heard it, I will now
proceed to relate. They were a prince and princess, and the story of
their parents was one which I am sure you will like to hear. In early
youth the mother of the princess happened to hear the story of a certain
enchanter, and in that story I am sure you will be interested. The
enchanter--'
'Oh, please don't,' said Anthea. 'I can't understand all these beginnings
of stories, and you seem to be getting deeper and deeper in them every
minute. Do tell us your OWN story. That's what we really want to hear.'
'Well,' said the Phoenix, seeming on the whole rather flattered, 'to cut
about seventy long stories short (though I had to listen to them all--but
to be sure in the wilderness there is plenty of time), this prince and
princess were so fond of each other that they did not want any one else,
and the enchanter--don't be alarmed, I won't go into his history--had
given them a magic carpet (you've heard of a magic carpet?), and they
had just sat on it and told it to take them right away from every
one--and it had brought them to the wilderness. And as they meant to
stay there they had no further use for the carpet, so they gave it to me.
That was indeed the chance of a lifetime!'
'I don't see what you wanted with a carpet,' said Jane, 'when you've got
those lovely wings.'
'They ARE nice wings, aren't they?' said the Phoenix, simpering and

spreading them out. 'Well, I got the prince to lay out the carpet, and I
laid my egg on it; then I said to the carpet, "Now, my excellent carpet,
prove your worth. Take that egg somewhere where it can't be hatched
for two thousand years, and where, when that time's up, some one will
light a fire of sweet wood and aromatic gums, and put the egg in to
hatch;" and you see it's all come out exactly as I said. The words were
no sooner out of my beak than egg and carpet disappeared. The royal
lovers assisted to arrange my pile, and soothed my last moments. I
burnt myself up and knew no more till I awoke on yonder altar.'
It pointed its claw at the grate.
'But the carpet,' said Robert, 'the magic carpet that takes you anywhere
you wish. What became of that?'
'Oh, THAT?' said the Phoenix, carelessly--'I should say that that is the
carpet. I remember the pattern perfectly.'
It pointed as it spoke to the floor,