CHAPTER XXIV

SOME FEW THINGS CONCERNING THE DEAR LITTLE PRINCESS SCHNEEBOULE.—HOW

SHE AND I BECAME FAST FRIENDS, AND HOW ONE DAY SHE CONDUCTED

BULGER AND ME INTO HER FAVORITE GROTTO TO SEE THE LITTLE MAN WITH

THE FROZEN SMILE.—SOMETHING ABOUT HIM.—WHAT CAME OF MY HAVING

LOOKED UPON HIM QUITE FULLY DESCRIBED.

At the time of Bulger’s and my arrival in the land of the Koltykwerps

the Princess Schneeboule was about fifteen years of age, and I must say

that rarely had it been my good fortune to make the acquaintance of such

a sweet-tempered, lovable little creature. She flitted about the ice

palace like a beam of sunlight, and there was nothing of the spoiled

child about her, although a bit mischievous at times.

Her voice was as full of music as a skylark’s, and it was not many days

before she and I had become the best friends in the world.

Now, you must know, dear friends, that according to the law of the

Koltykwerps, a princess is left absolutely free to choose her own

husband, and his frigid Majesty was very anxious that Schneeboule should

pick hers out as soon as possible. Moreover, the law of the land gave

her perfect freedom to choose a husband of high or low degree, provided

he was young enough. The way in which a Koltykwerp princess was required

to make known her preference was to press a kiss upon the cheek of the

young man whom she might settle upon. This ennobled him at once, and he

became the heir apparent to the throne of ice, and entitled to sit on

its steps until he should be crowned king.

Now, his frigid Majesty was delighted to see this friendship spring up

between Schneeboule and me, for he hoped to make use of my influence to

bring her to set the necessary kiss on some youth’s cheek before I took

my departure from the cold Kingdom of the Koltykwerps. I gave him the

word of a nobleman that I would do my best to carry out his wishes.

With Schneeboule for a guide, Bulger and I often went for walks through

the splendid ice grottos of her father’s kingdom, selecting days when

the sunlight of the outer world poured strongest through the mighty lens

set in the side of the mountain. Then these grottos took on a splendor

that my poor tongue is powerless to describe. Their crystal mazes

glittered as if their walls were set with massive jewels most

wonderfully cut and polished, and as if their ceilings were fretted with

gems so peerless that all the gold of the upper world would fall far

short of paying for them. Here, there, and everywhere the skill of the

Koltykwerps had carved and chiselled graceful flights of steps, broad

landings with majestic columns, and winding corridors lined with long

rows of statues, single and group-wise; and ever and anon the visitor

came upon a terrace where, seated upon a fur-covered divan, he might

look out upon the bewildering beauty of King Gelidus’ icy domains, arch

touching arch and dome springing from dome, while over and above all,

through the gigantic lens in its granite setting, a mile above our

heads, streamed a flood of glorious sunlight, lighting up this World

within a World with a radiance so grand and so complete as to seem to be

a sun of a far greater splendor than the one that warmed the upper world

and bathed it in so many gorgeous hues at morn and eve. Hardly a day

went by now that the princess of the Koltykwerps did not surprise either

Bulger or me with some gift or other.

To tell the truth, dear friends, although my Russian coat was

fur-trimmed, yet I began to feel the need of warmer garments after a

week’s sojourn in the icy domain of King Gelidus, and I think

Schneeboule must have heard my teeth chattering, for one morning, upon

entering the Palace of Ice, I was delighted to be presented with a full

suit of fur precisely similar to the one worn by King Gelidus himself.

Nor was Bulger forgotten by the loving little Princess, for with her own

hands she had knitted him a blanket of the softest wool, which she

belted so snugly around his body and tied so tightly around his neck

that henceforth he felt perfectly comfortable in the chill air of the

home of the Koltykwerps.

One day the Princess Schneeboule said to me,—

“Oh, come, little baron, come to my favorite grotto, now that the sun’s

rays are bright within it; there shalt thou see a wonder.”

“A wonder, Princess Schneeboule?”

“Yes, little baron, a wonder,” she repeated: “the Little Man with the

Frozen Smile.”

“Little Man with the Frozen Smile?” I echoed.

“Come and see, come and see, little baron!” cried Schneeboule, hurrying

on ahead.

In a few moments we had reached the grotto and bounded into it with the

Princess leading the way.

Suddenly she halted in front of a magnificent block of crystal ice,

clear as polished glass, and cried out,—

“There, look! There is the Little Man with the Frozen Smile!”

Even now, as the thought of that moment comes over me, I feel something

of the thrill of half fear, half joy, as my eyes fell upon the little

creature shut in that superb block of ice, himself a part of it, himself

its heart, its contents, its mystery. There, in its centre, in easy

posture, with wide opened eyes, and with what might be called a smile

upon its face—that is a glint of kindliness and affection in its strange

eyes with their overhanging brows, sat a small animal of the chimpanzee

race. He had possibly been asleep when the icy flood struck him,

dreaming of beautiful trees bending beneath purple fruit, of cloudless

skies above and a coral beach below, and death had come to him so

quickly that he had become a brother to this block of ice while the

happy dream was still in his thoughts.

[Illustration: THE LITTLE MAN WITH THE FROZEN SMILE.]

It was wonderful, it was more than wonderful! Spellbound by the strange

spectacle, I stood there, I know not how long, with my eyes looking into

his. At last Schneeboule’s voice aroused me:

“Ha! ha!” she laughed; “look, little baron, Bulger is trying to kiss his

poor dead brother.”

In truth, Bulger did have his nose pressed firmly against the block of

ice in his effort to scent the strange animal imprisoned in that crystal

cell—so near, and yet so far beyond the reach of his keen scent.

“Well, little baron,” cried Schneeboule, “did I not speak truly? Have I

not shown thee the Little Man with the Frozen Smile?”

“Indeed thou hast, fair princess,” was my reply; “and I cannot tell thee

how grateful I am to thee for having done so.”

Then, as she plucked me by the sleeve, I pleaded, “Nay, gentle

Schneeboule, not yet, not yet, let me bide a bit longer. The Little Man

with the Frozen Smile seems to beg me not to go. I can almost imagine

that I hear him whisper: ‘O little baron, break open the crystal cell of

my prison and take me with thee back to the world of sunshine, back to

the land of the orange-tree, where the soft warm winds used to rock me

to sleep in the cradle of the swaying boughs, while the wise and

watchful patriarch of our flock stood guard over us all.’”

Schneeboule’s big, round, gray eyes filled with tears at these words.

“Would that he were alive, little baron,” she murmured, “and that I

could give him some of my happiness to pay him back for all the long

years he has been spending in his icy prison.”

In a few moments Schneeboule took me by the hand and led me away from

the great block of ice with its silent prisoner. My heart was very

heavy, and both Schneeboule and Bulger did their utmost to divert me,

but all to no purpose.

Leaving the princess at the portal of the palace, I went to my dwelling

which was ablaze with the soft glow of its alabaster lamps, and there I

found a beautiful new pelt spread over my divan, a new gift from King

Gelidus. But I could take no pleasure in it. My thoughts were all with

the Little Man with the Frozen Smile locked in the icy embrace of that

crystal mould, which, in its cold irony, let him seem to be so free and

unfettered and yet held him in such vise-like grip. After a while I

dismissed my serving people and laid me down for the night with my dear

Bulger nestled against my breast. But I could not sleep. All night long

those strange eyes with their uncanny glint followed me about, pleading

strong but silent for me to come again, for me to soften my heart like a

child of the sunshine that I was, to shatter his crystal dungeon, and

set him loose, to bear him away from the icy domain of the Koltykwerps

out into the warm air of the upper world. What was I dreaming about? Was

he not dead? Had not his spirit left his body thousands and thousands of

years ago? Why should I let such wild thoughts vex my mind? What good

would come of it? None, none whatever. I was a reasonable creature, I

must not give lodgment within my brain to such silly ideas.

The Little Man with the Frozen Smile had been, through almost playful

fate, laid away in a beautiful tomb. I must not disturb it. No doubt in

his lifetime he had been the pet of a noble manor, brought to the

Northland from some sunny clime by master of powerful argosy. Let him

rest in peace. I must not dare to mar the beauty of his crystal tomb, so

gloriously transparent!

I was even sorry that Schneeboule had led me into her beautiful grotto,

and resolved to go thither no more.

What poor weak creatures are we, so fertile in good resolutions and yet

so unfruitful of results, planting whole acres with fair promises, but

when the tender shoots pierce the ground turning our back upon the crop

as if it didn’t belong to us!