CHAPTER 1 THE MOUNTAIN She was a son of Peter the Minor. He lived with his father and mother in a cottage built on the mountain, and he worked with his father inside the mountain. A mountain is a strange and awful thing. In old times, without knowing so much of their strangeness and awfulness as we do, people were yet more afraid of mountains. But then somehow they had not come to see how beautiful they are as well as awful, and they hated them, and what people hate they must fear. Now that we have learned to look at them with admiration, perhaps we do not feel quite or enough of them. To me they are beautiful terrors. I will try to tell you what they are. They are portions of the heart of the earth that have escaped from the dungeon down below, and rushed up and out. For the heart of the earth is a great wallowing mass, not of blood as in the hearts of men and animals, but of glowing hot, melted metals and stones. And as our hearts keep us alive, so that great lump of heat keeps the earth alive, it is a huge power of buried sunlight. That is what it is. Now think, out of that cauldron, where all the bubbles would be as big as the Alps, if it could get room for its boiling. Certain bubbles have bubbled out and escaped, up and away, and there they stand in the cool, cold sky—mountains. Think of the change, and you will no more wonder that there should be something awful about the very look of a mountain, from the darkness, for where the light is nothing to shine upon, much the same as darkness, from the heat, from the endless tumult of boiling unrest, up, where the sudden heaven would shoot into the wind and the cold and the starshine, and a cloak of snow that lies like ermine above the blue-green mail of the glaciers. And the great sun, their grandfather, up there in the sky, and their little old cold aunt, the moon, that comes wandering about the house at night, and everlasting stillness, except for the wind that turns the rocks and caverns into a roaring organ, for the young archangels that are studying how to let out the pent-up praises of their hearts, and the molten music of the streams, rushing ever from the bosoms of the glaciers fresh-born. Think, too, of the change in their own substance, no longer molten and soft, heaving and glowing, but hard and shining and cold. Think of the creatures scampering over and burrowing in it, and the birds building their nests upon it, and the trees growing out of its sides like hair to clothe it, and the lovely grass in the valleys, and the gracious flowers, even at the very edge of its armour of ice, like the rich embroidery of the garment below, and the rivers galloping down the valleys into a tumult of white and green. And along with all these, think of the terrible precipices down which the travellers may fall and be lost, and the frightful gulfs of blue air cracked in the glaciers, and the dark, profound lakes, covered like little arctic oceans with floating lumps of ice, all this outside the mountain, but the inside, who shall tell what lies there? Caverns of awfulest solitude, their walls miles thick, sparkling with oars of gold or silver, copper or iron, tin or mercury, studied perhaps with precious stones, perhaps a brook with eyeless fish in it, running, running ceaselessly, cold and babbling, through banks crusted with carbuncles and golden toposes, or over a gravel of which some of the stones are rubies and emeralds, perhaps diamond and sapphires, who can tell, and whoever can't tell is free to think. All waiting to flash, waiting for millions of ages, ever since the earth flew off from the sun, a great bolt of fire and began to cool.  From some of these the water cannot get out, and from others it runs in channels as the blood in the body. Little veins bring it down from the ice above into the great caverns of the mountain's hut, whence the arteries let it out again, gushing in pipes and clefts and ducts of all shapes and kinds, through and through its bulk, until it springs newborn to the light, and rushes down the mountainside in torrents, and down the valleys in rivers, down, down rejoicing, to the mighty lungs of the world, that is the sea, where it is tossed in storms and cyclones, heaved up in billows, twisted in waterspouts, dashed to mist upon rocks, beaten by millions of tales, and breathed by millions of gills. Whence at last, melted into vapor by the sun, it is lifted up pure into the air, and born by the servant winds, back to the mountain tops and the snow, the solid ice and the molten stream. Well, when the heart of the earth is thus come rushing up among her children, bringing with it gifts of all that she possesses, then straight away into it rush her children to see what they can find there. With pickaxe and spade and crowbar, with boring chisel and blasting powder, they force their way back. Is it to search for what toys they may have left in their long-forgotten nurseries? Hence the mountains that lift their heads into the clean air, and are dotted over with the dwellings of men, are tunneled and bored in the darkness of their bosoms, by the dwellers in the houses which they hold up to the sun and air. Curdie and his father were of these. Their business was to bring to light hidden things. They sought silver in the rock and found it, and carried it out. Of the many other precious things in their mountain, they knew little or nothing. Silver ore was what they were sent to find, and in darkness and danger they found it. But oh! how sweet was the air on the mountain face when they came out at sunset to go home to wife and mother. They did breathe deep then. The mines belonged to the king of the country, and the miners were his servants, working under his overseers and offices. He was a real king, that is, one who ruled for the good of his people and not to please himself. And he wanted the silver not to buy rich things for himself, but to help him to govern the country and pay the ones that defended it from certain troublesome neighbours, and the judges whom he set to portion out righteousness among the people. That they might learn it themselves, and come to do without judges at all. Nothing that could be got from the heart of the earth could have been put to better purposes than the silver the king's miners got for him. There were people in the country who, when it came into their hands, degraded it by locking it up in a chest, and then it grew diseased and was called mammon, and bred all sorts of quarrels. But when first it left the king's hands, it never made any but friends, and the air of the world kept it clean. About a year before this story began, a series of very remarkable events had just ended. I will narrate as much of them as will serve to show the tops of the roots of my tree. On the mountain, on one of its many claws, stood a grand old house, half farmhouse, half castle, belonging to the king, and there his only child, the princess Irene, had been brought up till she was nearly nine years old, and would doubtless have continued much longer, but for the strange events to which I have referred. At that time the hollow places of the mountain were inhabited by creatures called goblins, who, for various reasons and in various ways, made themselves troublesome to all, but to the little princess dangerous. Mainly, by the watchful devotion and energy of Curdie, however, their designs had been utterly defeated, and made to recoil upon themselves to their own destruction, so that now there were very few of them left alive, and the miners did not believe there was a single goblin remaining in the whole inside of the mountain. The king had been so pleased with the boy, then approaching thirteen years of age, that when he carried away his daughter, he asked him to accompany them, but he was still better pleased with him, when he found that he preferred staying with his father and mother. He was a right good king, and knew that the love of a boy would not leave his father and mother, to be made a great man, was worth ten thousand offers to die for his sake, and would prove so when the right time came. As for his father and mother, they would have given him up without a grumble, for they were just as good as the king, and he and they understood each other perfectly. But in this matter, not seeing that he could do anything for the king which one of his numerous attendants could not do as well, but he felt that it was for him to decide. So the king took a kind farewell of them all and rode away, with his daughter on his horse before him. A gloom fell upon the mountain and the miners when she was gone, and Curdie did not whistle for a whole week. As for his verses, there was no occasion to make any now. He had made them only for the goblins, and they were all gone. A good riddance! Only the princess was gone too. He would rather have had things as they were, except for the princess's sake. But whoever is diligent will soon be cheerful, and though the miners missed the household of the castle, they yet managed to get on without them. Peter and his wife, however, were troubled with the fancy that they had stood in the way of their boy's good fortune. It would have been such a fine thing for him, and them too, they thought, if he had ridden with the good king's train. How beautiful he looked, they said, when he rode the king's own horse through the river that the goblins had sent out of the hill. He might soon have been a captain, they did believe. The good, kind people did not reflect, that the road to the next duty is the only straight one, or that, for their fancy to good, we should never wish our children or friends to do what we would not do ourselves if we were in their position. We must accept righteous sacrifices, as well as make them. End of Section 1 Section 2 of the Princess and Curdie This is the LibriVox recording, all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Lizzie Driver The Princess and Curdie by George MacDonald Chapter 2 The White Pigeon When in the winter they had had their sapper and set about the fire, or when in the summer they lay on the border of the rock-margined stream, that ran through their little meadow close by the door of their cottage, issuing from the far-upped whiteness, often folded in clouds. Curdie's mother would not seldom lead the conversation to one peculiar personage, said, and believed to have been much concerned in the late issue of events. That personage was the great-great-grandmother of the Princess, of whom the Princess had often talked, but whom neither Curdie nor his mother had ever seen. Curdie could indeed remember, although already it looked more like a dream than he could account for, if it had really taken place. How the Princess had once led him up many stairs, to what she called a beautiful room in the top of the tower, where she went through all the—what should he call it?—the behaviour of presenting him to her grandmother, talking now to her and now to him.  Lady, he would have declared before the King himself, young or old there was none, except the Princess herself, who was certainly vexed that he could not see what she at least believed she saw. As for his mother, she had once seen, long before Curdie was born, a certain mysterious light of the same description as one Irene spoke of, calling it her grandmother's moon. And Curdie himself had seen this same light, shining from above the castle, just as the King and Princess were taking their leave. Since that time, neither had seen or heard anything that could be supposed connected with her. Strangely enough, however, nobody had seen her go away. If she was such an old lady, she could hardly be supposed to have set out alone and on foot, when all the house was asleep. Still, a way she must have gone, for of course, if she was so powerful, she would always be about to the Princess to take care of her. But, as Curdie grew older, he doubted more and more whether Irene had not been talking of some dream she had taken for reality. He had heard it said that children could not always distinguish between extremes and actual events. At the same time, there was his mother's testimony. What was he to do with that? His mother, through whom he had learned everything, could hardly be imagined by her own dutiful son to have mistaken a dream for a fact of the waking world. So he rather shrank from thinking about it, and the less he thought about it, the less he was inclined to believe it when he did think about it. And therefore, of course, the less inclined to talk about it to his father and mother. For, although his father was one of those men, who, for one word they say, think twenty thoughts, Curdie was well assured that he would rather doubt his own eyes than his wife's testimony. There were no others to whom he could have talked about it. The miners were a mingled company, some good, some not so good, some rather bad. None of them so bad or so good as they might have been. Curdie liked most of them, and was a favourite with all. But they knew very little about the upper world, and what might or might not take place there. They knew silver from copper ore. They understood the underground way of things, and they could look very wise with their lanterns in their hands, searching after this or that sign of ore, or for some mark to guide their way in the hollows of the earth.  Why, to them, the very word, great-great-grandmother, would have been a week's laughter. I am not sure they were quite able to believe there were such persons as great-great-grandmothers. They had never seen one. They were not companions to give the best of help toward progress.  One of the chief signs of which was that he believed less and less in things he had never seen. At the same time, I do not think he was ever so stupid as to imagine that this was a sign of superior faculty and strength of mind. Still, he was becoming more and more a minor, and less and less a man of the upper world where the wind blew. On his way to and from the mine, he took less and less notice of bees and butterflies, moths and dragonflies, the flowers and the brooks and the clouds. He was gradually changing into a commonplace man. There is this difference between the growth of some human beings and that of others. In the one case, it is a continuous dying. In the other, a continuous resurrection. One of the latter sort comes at length to know at once whether a thing is true the moment it comes before him. One of the former class grows more and more afraid of being taken in. So afraid of it that he takes himself in altogether, and comes at length to believe in nothing but his dinner. To be sure of a thing with him is to have it between his teeth. Curdie was not in a very good way then at that time. His father and mother had, it is true, no fault to find with him, and yet, and yet neither of them was ready to sing when a thought of him came up. There must be something wrong when a mother catches herself sighing over the time when her boy was in petticoats, or a father looks sad when he thinks to carry him on his shoulder. The boy should enclose and keep, as his life, the old child at the heart of him and never let it go. He must still, to be a right man, be his mother's darling, and more, his father's pride, and more. The child is not meant to die, but to be forever fresh-born. Curdie had made himself a bow and some arrows, and was teaching himself to shoot with them. One evening in the early summer, as he was walking home from the mine with them in his hand, a light flashed across his eyes. He looked, and there was a snow-white pigeon settling on a rock in front of him in the red light of the level sun. There it fell at once to work with one of its wings, in which a feather or two had got some sprays twisted, causing a certain roughness unpleasant to the fastidious creature of the air. It was indeed a lovely being, and Curdie thought how happy it must be flitting through the air with a flash, a live bolt of light. For a moment he became so one with the bird that he seemed to feel both its bill and its feathers, as the one adjusted the other to fly again, and his heart swelled with the pleasure of its involuntary sympathy. Another moment, and it would have been aloft in the waves of rosy light. It was just bending its little legs to spring. That moment it fell on the path, broken-winged and bleeding from Curdie's cruel arrow. With a gush of pride at his skill and pleasure at his success, he ran to pick up his prey.  Perhaps it was the beginning of his repentance. But when he had the white thing in his hands, its whiteness stained with another red, than that of the sunset flood in which it had been reveling. Ah, God, who knows the joy of a bird, the ecstasy of a creature that has neither storehouse nor barn. When he held it, I say in his victorious hands, the winged thing looked up in his face, and with such eyes, asking what was the matter, and where the red sun had gone and the clouds and the wind of its flight. Then they closed, but to open again presently, with the same question in them. And as they closed and opened, their look was fixed on his. It did not once flutter or try to get away. It only throbbed and bled and looked at him. Curdie's heart began to grow very large in his bosom. What could it mean?  But the fact was that not till this very moment had he ever known what a pigeon was. A good many discoveries of a similar kind have to be made by most of us. Once more it opened its eyes, then closed them again, and its throbbing ceased. Curdie gave a sob. Its last look reminded him of the princess. He did not know why. He remembered how hard he had laboured to set her beyond danger, and yet what dangers she had had to encounter for his sake. They had been saviours to each other, and what had he done now? He had stopped saving, and had begun killing. What had he been sent into the world for? Surely not to be a death to its joy and loveliness. He had done the thing that was contrary to gladness. He was a destroyer. Not the Curdie he had been meant to be. Then the underground waters gushed from the boy's heart. And with the tears came the remembrance that a white pigeon, just before the princess went away with her father, came from somewhere. Yes, from the grandmother's lamp, and flew around the king and Irene and himself, and then flew away. This might be that very pigeon. Horrible to think! And if it wasn't, yet it was a white pigeon the same as this. And if she kept a great many pigeons, and white ones as Irene had told him, then whose pigeon could he have killed, but the grand old princesses? Suddenly everything round him seemed against him. The red sunset stung him. The rocks frowned at him. The sweet wind that had been leving his face as he walked up the hill dropped, as if he wasn't fit to be kissed any more. Was the whole world going to cast him out? Would he have to stand there forever, not knowing what to do with the dead pigeon in his hand? Things looked bad indeed. Was the whole world going to make a work about a pigeon? A white pigeon? The sun went down. Great clouds gathered over the west and shortened the twilight. The wind gave a howl and then lay down again. The clouds gathered thicker, then came rumbling. He thought it was thunder. It was a rock that fell inside the mountain. A goat ran past him down the hill, followed by a dog sent to fetch him home. He thought they were gobbling creatures and trembled. He used to despise them, and still he held the dead pigeon tenderly in his hand. It grew darker and darker. An evil something began to move in his heart. What a fool I am, he said to himself. Then he grew angry, and was just going to throw the bird from him and whistle, when a brightness shone all around him. He lifted his eyes and saw a great globe of light, like silver at the hottest heat. He had once seen silver run from the furnace. It shone from somewhere above the roofs of the castle. It must be the great old princess's moon. How could she be there? Of course she was not there. He had asked the whole household, and nobody knew anything about her or her globe either. It couldn't be. And yet, what did that signify? When there was a white globe shining, and here was the dead white bird in his hand. That moment the pigeon gave a little flutter. It's not dead. Cried Curdie almost with a shriek. The same instant he was running full speed towards the castle, never letting his heels down, lest he should shake the poor wounded bird. End of section 2 Section 3 of The Princess and Curdie This is a LibriVox recording, or LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org According by Lizzie Driver The Princess and Curdie by George MacDonald Chapter 3 The Mistress of the Silver Moon When Curdie reached the castle and ran into the little garden in front of it, there stood the door wide open. This was as he had hoped, for what could he have said if he had had to knock at it? Those whose business it is to open doors, so often a mistake can shut them. But the woman now in charge often puzzled herself greatly to account for the strange fact that, however often she shut the door, which, like the rest, she took a great deal of unnecessary trouble to do, she was certain, the next time she went to it, to find it open. I speak now of the great front door, of course. The black door she has persistently kept wide. If people could only go in by that, she said, she would then know what sort they were, and what they wanted. But she would neither have known what sort Curdie was, nor what he wanted, and would assuredly have denied him admittance, for she knew nothing of who was in the town. So the front door was left open for him, and in he walked. But where to go next, he could not tell. It was not quite dark. A dull, shineless twilight filled the place. All he knew was that he must go up, and that proved enough for the present, for there he saw the great staircase rising before him. When he reached the top of it, he knew there must be more stairs yet, for he could not be near the top of the tower. Indeed, by the situation of the stairs, he must be a good way from the tower itself. But those who work well in the depths more easily understand the heights, for indeed in their true nature they are one and the same. Miners are in mountains, and Curdie, from knowing the ways of the king's minds, and being able to calculate his whereabouts in them, was now able to find his way about the king's house. He knew its outside perfectly, and now his business was to get his notion of the inside right with the outside. So he shut his eyes and made a picture of the outside of it in his mind. Then he came in at the door of the picture, and yet kept the picture before him all the time, for you can do this kind of thing in your mind, and took every turn of the stair over again, always watching to remember every time he turned his face how the tower lay, and then when he came to himself at the top where he stood, he knew exactly where he was, and walked it once in the right direction. On his way, however, he came to another stair, and up that he went, of course, watching still at every turn how the tower must lie. At the top of this stair was yet another. They were the stairs up which the princes ran when first, without knowing it, she was on her way to find her great-great-grandmother. At the top of the second stair he could go no farther, and must therefore set out again to find the tower, which, as it rose far above the rest of the house, must have the last of its stairs inside itself. Having watched every turn to the very last, he still knew quite well in what direction he must go to find it. So he left the stair and went down a passage that led, if not exactly toward it, yet nearer it. This passage was rather dark, for it was very long, with only one window at the end, and although there were doors on both sides of it, they were all shut. At the distant window glimmered the chill east, with a few feeble stars in it, and its like was dreary and old, growing brown and looking as if it were thinking about the day that was just gone. Presently he turned into another passage, which also had a window at the end of it, and in that window shone all that was left of the sunset, just a few ashes, with here and there a little touch of warmth. It was nearly as sad as the east, only there was one difference. It was very plainly thinking of tomorrow. But at present Curdie had nothing to do with the day or tomorrow. His business was with the bird, and the tower where dwelt the grand-old princess to whom it belonged. So he kept on his way, still eastward, and came to yet another passage, which brought him to a door. He was afraid to open it without first knocking. He knocked, but heard no answer. He was answered nevertheless, for the door gently opened, and there was a narrow stair, and so steep that, big lad as he was, he too, like the princess Irene before him, found his hands needful for the climbing. And it was a long climb, but he reached the top at last, a little landing with a door in front and one on each side. Which should he knock at? As he hesitated, he heard the noise of a spinning wheel. He knew it at once, because his mother's spinning wheel had been his governess long ago, and still taught him things. It was the spinning wheel that first taught him to make verse, and to sing, and to think whether or was right inside him. Or at least it had helped him in all these things. Hence it was no wonder he should know a spinning wheel when he heard it sing, even although as the bird of paradise to other birds was the song of that wheel to the song of his mother's. He stood listening, so entranced that he forgot to knock, and the wheel went on and on, spinning in his brain songs and tales and rhymes, till he was almost asleep as well as dreaming, for sleep does not always come first. But suddenly came the thought of the poor bird, which had been lying motionless in his hand all the time. And that woke him up, and at once he knocked. Come in, Curdie, said a voice. Curdie shook. It was getting rather awful. The heart that had never much heeded an army of goblins trembled at the soft word of invitation. But then there was the red-spotted white thing in his hand. He dared not hesitate, though. Gently he opened the door, through which the sound came. And what did he see? Nothing at first, except indeed a great sloping shaft of moonlight that came in at a high window and rested on the floor. He stood and stared at it, forgetting to shut the door. Why don't you come in, Curdie? Said the voice. Did you never see moonlight before? Never without a moon. Answered Curdie in a trembling tone. But gathering courage. Certainly not. Returned the voice, which was thin and quavering. I never saw moonlight without a moon. But there's no moon outside. Said Curdie. Ah! But you're inside now. Said the voice. The answer did not satisfy Curdie. But the voice went on. There are more moons than you know of Curdie, where there is one sun, there are many moons, and of many sorts. Come in and look out of my window, and you will soon satisfy yourself that there is a moon looking in at it. The gentleness of the voice made Curdie remember his manners. He shut the door and drew a step or two nearer to the moonlight. All the time the sound of the spinning wheel had been going on and on. And Curdie now caught sight of the wheel. Oh! It was such a thin, delicate thing. Reminding him of a spider's web in a hedge. It stood in the middle of the moonlight, and it seemed as if the moonlight had nearly melted it away. A step nearer he saw, with a start, two little hands at work with it. And then at last in the shadow on the other side of the moonlight, which came like silver between, he saw the form to which the hands belonged. A small, withered creature, so old that no age would have seemed too great to write under her picture, seated on a stool beyond the spinning wheel, which looked very large beside her. But, as I said, very thin, like a long-legged spider holding up its own web, which was the round wheel itself.   When Curdie saw her, he stood still again, a great deal in wonder, a very little in reverence, a little in doubt, and, I must add, a little in amusement at the odd look of the old marvel. Her grey hair mixed with the moonlight, so that he could not tell where the one began and the other ended. Her crooked back bent forward over her chest, her shoulders nearly swallowed up her head between them, and her two little hands were just like the grey claws of a hen, scratching at the thread, which, to Curdie, was, of course, invisible across the moonlight. Indeed, Curdie laughed within himself, just a little at the sight. And when he thought of how the princess used to talk about her huge, great-old grandmother, he laughed more. But that moment the little lady leaned forward into the moonlight, and Curdie caught a glimpse of her eyes, and all the laugh went out of him. What do you come here for, Curdie? She said, as gently as before. Then Curdie remembered that he stood there as a culprit, and worst of all, there was no time for his confession yet to make. There was no time to hesitate over it. Oh, Mom, see here! He said an advanced a step or two holding out the pigeon. What have you got there? She asked. Again Curdie advanced a few steps and held out his hand with the pigeon, that she might see what it was, into the moonlight. The moment the rays fell upon it, the pigeon gave a faint flutter. The old lady put out her old hands and took it, and held it to her bosom and rocked it, murmuring over it as if it were a sick baby. When Curdie saw how distressed she was, he grew sorrier still and said, I didn't mean to do any harm, Mom. I didn't think of it as being yours. Ah, Curdie! If it weren't mine, what would become of it now? She returned. You say you didn't mean any harm. Did you mean any good, Curdie? No, answered Curdie. Remember then that whoever does not mean good is always in danger of harm. But I try to give everybody fair play, and those that are in the wrong are in far more need of it always than those who are in the right. They can afford to do without it.  Now that you do know, you are sorry. It is very dangerous to do things you don't know about. But please, Mom, I don't mean to be rude or to contradict you, said Curdie, but if a body was never to do anything but what he knew to be good, he would have to live half his time doing nothing. There you are much mistaken, said the old quavering voice.  Why, you don't seem even to know the good of the things you are constantly doing. Now, don't mistake me. I don't mean you are good for doing them. It is a good thing to eat your breakfast, but you don't fancy it's very good of you to do it. The thing is good, not you. Curdie laughed. There are a great many more good things than bad things to do.  While she talked, Curdie had sunk into a sort of reverie, in which he hardly knew whether it was the old lady or his own heart that spoke. And when she asked him that question, he was at first much inclined to consider himself a very good fellow on the whole. I really don't think I did anything else that was very bad all day, he said to himself, but at the same time he could not honestly feel that he was worth standing up for. All at once a light seemed to break in upon his mind, and he woke up. And there was the withered little atomy of the old lady, on the other side of the moonlight. And there was a spinning wheel, singing on and on in the middle of it. I know now, ma'am, I understand now, he said, Thank you, ma'am, for spinning it into me with your wheel. I see now that I've been doing wrong the whole day, and such many days besides. Indeed, I don't know when I ever did right, and yet it seems as if I had done right some time and had forgotten how. When I killed your bird, I did not know I was doing wrong, just because I was always doing wrong, and the wrong had soaked all through me. What wrong were you doing all day, Curdie? It is better to come to the point, you know, said the old lady, and her voice was gentler even than before. I was doing the wrong of never wanting or trying to be better, and now I see that I've been letting things go as they would for a long time. Whatever came into my head I did, and whatever didn't come into my head I didn't do. I never sent anything away, and never looked out for anything to come. I haven't been attending to my mother, or my father, either. And now I think of it, I know I have often seen them looking troubled, and I've never asked them what was the matter. And now I see too that I did not ask because I suspected it had something to do with me and my behaviour, and didn't want to hear the truth. And I know I have been grumbling at my work and doing a hundred other things that are wrong. You have got it, Curdie, said the old lady, in a voice that sounded almost as if she had been crying. When people don't care to be better, they must be doing everything wrong.  Mom, exclaimed Curdie, how can you be? Because it has brought you to see what thought you were when you did it, and what thought you will grow to be again only worse if you don't mind. Now that you are sorry, my poor bird will be better. Look up, my dovey. The pigeon gave a flatter and spread out one of its red-spotted wings across the old woman's bosom. I will mend the little angel, she said, and in a week or two it will be flying again, so you may ease your heart about the pigeon. Oh, thank you, thank you, cried Curdie, I don't know how to thank you. Then I will tell you, there is only one way I care for, do better and grow better and be better, and never kill anything without a good reason for it.   Then I promise you to burn them all under my mother's porridge pot tomorrow morning. No, no, Curdie, keep them, and practice with them every day, and grow a good shot. There are plenty of bad things that want killing, and a day will come when they will prove useful. But I must first see whether you will do as I tell you. That I will, said Curdie. What is it, Mom? Only something not to do, answered the old lady. If you should hear anyone speak about me, never to laugh or make fun of me. Oh, Mom! exclaimed Curdie, shocked that she should think such a request needful. Stop, stop! she went on. People hear about sometimes tell very odd, and in fact ridiculous stories of an old woman who watches what is going on and occasionally interferes. They mean me, though what they say is often great nonsense. Now what I want of you is not to laugh or side with them in any way, because they will take that to mean you don't believe there is any such person a bit more than they do. Now, that would not be the case, would it, Curdie? No, indeed, Mom, I've seen you. The old woman smiled very oddly. Yes, you've seen me, she said, but mind, she continued, I don't want you to say anything, only to hold your tongue, and not seem to side with them. That'll be easy, said Curdie, now that I've seen you with my very own eyes, Mom. Not so easy as you think, perhaps, said the old lady with another curious smile. I want to be your friend," she added after a little pause, but I don't quite know yet whether you'll let me. Indeed, I will, Mom," said Curdie. That is for me to find out. She rejoined with yet another strange smile. In the meantime, all I can say is, come to me again when you find yourself in any trouble, and I will see what I can do for you. Only the canning depends on yourself. I am greatly pleased with you for bringing me my pigeon, doing your best to set right what you had set wrong. As she spoke, she held out a hand to him, and when he took it, she made use of his to help herself up from a stool. And, when or how it came about, Curdie could not tell. The same instant she stood before him, a tall, strong woman, plainly very old, but as grand as she was old, and only rather severe-looking. Every trace of the decrepitude and witheredness she showed as she hovered like a film about her wheel, had vanished. Her hair was very white, but it hung about her head in great plenty, and shone like silver in the moonlight. Straight as a pillar she stood before the astonished boy, and the wounded bird had now spread out both its wings across her bosom, like some great mystical ornament of frosted silver. Oh! now I can never forget you," cried Curdie. I see now what you really are. Did I not tell you the truth when I sat at my wheel? Said the old lady. Yes, ma'am," answered Curdie. I can do no more than tell you the truth now," she rejoined. It is a bad thing indeed to forget one who has told us the truth. Now go." Curdie obeyed, and took a few steps towards the door. Please, ma'am, what am I going to call you?" He was going to say, but when he turned to speak he saw nobody. Whether she was there or not he could not tell, however, for the moonlight had vanished and the room was utterly dark. A great fear, such as he had never before known, came upon him, and almost overwhelmed him. He groped his way to the door and crawled down the stair, in doubt and anxiety as to how he should find his way out of the house in the dark. And the stair seemed ever so much longer than when he came up. Nor was that any wonder, for down and down he went, until at length his foot struck a door, and when he rose and opened it he found himself under the starry moonless sky at the foot of the tower. He soon discovered the way out of the garden, with which he had some acquaintance already, and in a few minutes was climbing the mountain with a solemn and cheerful heart. It was rather dark, but he knew the way well. As he passed the rock from which the poor pigeon fell wounded with his arrow, a great joy filled his heart at the thought that he was delivered from the blood of the little bird. And he ran the next hundred yards at full speed up the hill. Some dark shadows passed him. He did not even care to think what they were, but let them run. When he reached home he found his father and mother waiting supper for him. End of Section 3 Section 4 of The Princess and Curdie This is a LibriVox recording, all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information on how to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Lizzie Driver The Princess and Curdie by George MacDonald Chapters 4 to 5 Chapter 4 Curdie's Father and Mother The eyes of the fathers and mothers are quick to read their children's looks. And when Curdie entered the cottage his parents saw at once that something unusual had taken place. When he said to his mother, I beg your pardon for being so late, there was something in the tone beyond the politeness that went to her heart. For it seemed to come from the place where all lovely things were born before they began to grow in this world. When he set his father's chair to the table an attention he had not shown him for a long time. Peter thanked him with more gratitude than the boy had ever yet felt in all his life. It was a small thing to do for the man who had been serving him ever since he was born. But I suspect there is nothing a man can be so grateful for as that to which he has the most right. There was a change upon Curdie and father and mother felt there must be something to account for it and therefore were pretty sure he had something to tell them. For when a child's heart is all right it is not likely he will want to keep anything from his parents. But the story of the evening was too solemn for Curdie to come out with all at once. He must wait until they had had their porridge and the affairs of this world were over for the day. But when they were seated on the grassy bank of the brook that went so sweetly blundering over the great stones of its rocky channel for the whole meadow lay on top of a huge rock then he felt that the right hour had come for sharing with them the wonderful things that had come to him. It was perhaps the loveliest of all hours in the year. The summer was young and soft and this was the warmest evening they had yet had. Dusky, dark even below while above the stars were bright and large and sharp in the blackest blue sky. The night came close around them clasping them in one universal arm of love and although it neither spoke nor smiled seemed all eye and ear seemed to see and hear and to know everything they said and did. It is a way the night has sometimes and there is a reason for it. The only sound was that of the brook for there was no wind and no trees were it to make its music upon if there had been. For the cottage was high up on the mountain on a great shoulder of stone where trees would not grow. There to the accompaniment of the water as it hurried down to the valley and to the sea talking busily of a thousand true things which it could not understand Curdie told his tale outside and in to his father and mother what a world had slipped in between the mouth of the mine and his mother's cottage neither of them said a word until he had ended. Now what am I to make of it mother? It's so strange he said and stopped. It's easy enough to see what Curdie has got to make of it isn't it Peter? Said the good woman turning her face toward all she could see of her husbands. It seemed so to me answered Peter with a smile which only the night saw but his wife felt in the tone of his words. They were the happiest couple in that country because they always understood each other and that was because they was meant the same thing and that was because they was loved what was fair and true and right better not than anything else but than everything else put together then will you tell Curdie? said she you can talk best Joan said he you tell him and I will listen and learn how to say what I think he added I said Curdie don't know what to think it does not matter so much said his mother if only you know what to make of a thing I don't know soon enough what to think of it now I needn't tell you surely Curdie what you've got to do with this I suppose you mean mother answered Curdie the time as do as the old lady told me that is what I mean what else could it be am I not right Peter? quite right Joan answered Peter so far as my judgement goes it's a very strange story but you see the question is not about believing it for Curdie knows what came to him and you remember Curdie said his mother that when the princess took you up that tower once before and talked to her great great grandmother you came home quite angry with her and said there was nothing in that place but an old tub a heap of straw oh I remember your inventory quite well an old tub a heap of straw a withered apple and a sunbeam according to your eyes that was all there was in the great old musty garret but now you've had a glimpse of the old princess herself yes mother I did see her or if I didn't said Curdie very thoughtfully then began again the hardest thing to believe though I saw it with my own eyes was when the thin filmy creature that seemed almost afloat about in the moonlight like a bit of the silvery paper that they put over pictures or like a handkerchief made of spider threads took my hand and rose up she was taller and stronger than you mother ever so much at least she looked so and most certainly was so Curdie if she looked so said Mrs. Peterson well I confess returned her son that one thing if there were no other would make me doubt whether I was not dreaming after all wide awake though I fancied myself to be of course answered his mother it is not for me to say whether you were dreaming or not if you are doubtful of it yourself but it doesn't make me think I am dreaming when in the summer I hold in my hand the bunch of sweet peas that make my heart glad with their colour and scent and remember the dry withered looking little thing I dibbled into the hole in the same spot in the spring I only think how wonderful and lovely it all is it just seems as full of reason as it is of wonder how it is done I can't tell only there it is and there is this in it too Curdie of which you would not be so ready to think that when you come home to your father and mother and they find you behaving more like a dear good son than you have behaved for in a long time they at least are not likely to think you were only dreaming still said Curdie looking a little ashamed I might have dreamed my duty then dream often my son for there must then be more truth in your dreams than in your waking thoughts but however any of these things may be this one point remains certain there can be no harm in doing as she told you and indeed until you are sure there is no such person you are bound to do it for you promised it seems to me said his father that if a lady comes to you in a dream Curdie and tells you not to talk about her when you wake the least you can do is to hold your tongue true father yes mother I'll do it said Curdie then they went to bed and sleep which is the night of the soul next took them in its arms and made them well chapter five the miners it much increased Curdie's feeling of the strangeness of the whole affair that the next morning when they were at work in the mine the party of which he and his father were too just as if they had known what had happened to him the night before began talking about all manner of wonderful tales that were abroad in the country chiefly of course those connected with the mines and the mountains in which they lay their wives and mothers and grandmothers were their chief authorities for when they sat by their fireside they heard their wives telling their children the self-same tales with little differences and here and there one they had not heard before which they had heard their mothers and grandmothers telling one or other of the same cottages at length they came to speak of a certain strange being called Old Mother Wotherwop some said their wives had seen her it appeared as they talked that not one had seen her more than once some of their mothers and grandmothers however had seen her also and they had told them tales about her when they were children they said she could take any shape she liked but that in reality she was a withered old woman so old and so withered that she was as thin as a sieve with a lamp behind it that she was never seen except at night and when something terrible had taken place or was going to take place such as the falling in of the roof of a mine or the breaking out of water in it she had more than once been seen it was always at night beside some well sitting on the brink of it and leaning over and staring it with her forefinger which was six times as long as any of the rest and whoever for months after drank of that well was sure to be ill to this one of them however added that he remembered his mother saying that whoever in bad health drank of the well was sure to get better but the majority agreed that the former was the right version of the story for was she not a witch an old hating witch whose delight was to do mischief one said he had heard that she took the shape of a young woman sometimes as beautiful as an angel and then was the most dangerous of all for she struck every man who looked upon as stone blind Peter ventured the question whether she might not as likely be an angel that took the form of an old woman as an old woman that took the form of an angel but nobody except Curdie who was holding his peace with all his might saw any sense in the question they said an old woman might be very glad to make herself look like a young one but whoever heard of a young and beautiful one making herself look old and ugly Peter asked why they were so much more ready to believe the bad that was said of her than the good they answered because she was bad he asked why they believed her to be bad and they answered because she did bad things when he asked how they knew that they said because she was a bad creature even if they didn't know it they said a woman like that was so much more likely to be bad than good why did she go about at night why did she appear only now and then and on such occasions one went on to tell how one night when his grandfather had been having a jolly time of it with his friends in the market town she had served him so upon his way home the poor man never drank a drop of anything stronger than water after it to the day of his death she dragged him into a bog and tumbled him up and down in it till he was nearly dead I suppose that was her way of teaching him what a good thing water was, said Peter but the man who liked strong drink did not see the joke they do say, said another, that she has lived in the old house over there ever since the little princess left it they say too that the housekeeper knows all about it and his hand and glove with the old witch I don't doubt they have many a nice airing together on broomsticks but I don't doubt either it's all nonsense and there's no such person at all when our cow died, said another, she was seeing going round and round the cow house the same night to be sure she left a fine calf behind her I mean the cow did not the witch I wonder she didn't kill that too for she'll be a far finer cow than ever her mother was my old woman came upon her one night not long before the water broke out in the mine sitting on a stone on the hillside with a whole congregation of cobs about her when they saw my wife they all scampered off as fast as they could run and where the witch was sitting there was nothing to be seen but a withered bracken bush I may no doubt myself she was putting them up to it and so they went on with one foolish tale after another while Peter put in a word now and then and Curdie diligently held his peace but his silence at last drew attention upon it and one of them said come on young Curdie what are you thinking of how do you know I'm thinking of anything asked Curdie because you're not saying anything does it follow then that as you are saying so much you're not thinking at all said Curdie I know what he's thinking said one who had not yet spoken he's thinking what a set of fools you are to talk such rubbish as if ever there was or could be such an old woman as you say I'm sure Curdie knows better than all that comes to I think said Curdie it would be better that he who says anything about her should be quite sure it is true lest you should hear him I'm not like to be slandered but would she like it any better if it were true said the same man if she is what they say I don't know but I never knew a man that wouldn't go into a rage to be called the very thing he was if bad things were true of her and I knew it said Curdie I would not hesitate to say them for I'll never give in to being afraid of anything that's bad I suspect that the things they tell however if we knew all about them would turn out to have nothing but good in them and I won't say a word more for fear I should say something that mightn't be to her mind they all burst into a loud laugh he at the parson they cried he believed in the witch ha ha he's afraid of her and says all she does is good he wants to make friends with her that she may help him to find the silver ore give me my own eyes and a good divining rod before all the witches in the world and so I advise you too master Curdie that is when your eyes have grown to be worth anything and you have learned to cut the hazel fork they all mocked and jeered at him but he did his best to keep his temper and go quietly on with his work he got as close to his father as he could however for that helped him to bear it as soon as they were tired of laughing and mocking Curdie was friendly with them and long before their midday meal all between them was as it had been but when the evening came Peter and Curdie felt that they would rather walk home together without other company and therefore lingered behind when the rest of the men left the mine End of Section 4 Section 5 of The Princess and Curdie This is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Lizzie Driver The Princess and Curdie by George MacDonald Chapter 6 to 7 Chapter 6 The Emerald Father and son had seated themselves in a projecting piece of rock at a corner where three gallows met the one they had come along from their work one to the right leading out of the mountain and the other to the left leading far into a portion of it which had been long disused Since the inundation caused by the goblins it had indeed been rendered impassable by the settlement of a quantity of the water forming a small but very deep lake in a part where there was a considerable descent They had just risen and were turning to the right when a gleam caught their eyes and made them look along the whole gallery Far up they saw a pale green light whence issuing they could not tell about half way between floor and roof at the passage They saw nothing but the light which was like a large star with a point of darker colour yet brighter radiance in the heart of it whence the rest of the light shot out in rays that faded towards the ends until they vanished It shed hardly any light around it although in itself it was so bright as to sting the eyes it beheld it Wonderful stories had from ages gone being current in the minds about certain magic gems which gave out light of themselves and this light looks just like what might be supposed to shoot from the heart of such a gem They went up the old gallery to find out what it could be To their surprise they found however that after going some distance they were no nearer to it so far as they could judge than when they started and yet they moving did not approach it still they persevered for it was far too wonderful a thing to lose sight of so long as they could keep it At length they drew near the hollow where the water lay and still were no nearer the light Where they expected to be stopped by the water however water was none something had taken place in some part of the mind that had drained it off and the gallery lay open as in former times and now, to their surprise the light instead of being in front of them was shining at the same distance to the right where they did not know there was any passage at all then they discovered by the light of the lanterns they carried that there the water had broken through and made an entrance to a part of the mountain of which Peter knew nothing but they were hardly well into it still following the light before Curdie thought he recognized some of the passages which soon often gone through when he was watching the goblins after they had advanced a long way with many turnings now to the right, now to the left all at once their eyes seemed to come suddenly to themselves and they became aware that the light which they had taken to be a great way from them was in reality almost within reach of their hands the same instant it began to grow larger and thinner the point of light grew dim as it spread the greenness melted away and in a moment or two instead of the star a dark dark and yet luminous face was looking at them with living eyes and Curdie felt a great awe swell up in his heart for he thought he had seen those eyes before I see you know me Curdie said a voice if your eyes are you mom then I know you said Curdie but I never saw your face before yes you have seen it Curdie said the voice and with that the darkness of its complexion melted away and down from the face dawned out the form that belonged to it until at last Curdie and his father beheld a lady beautiful exceedingly dressed in something pale green like velvet over which her hair fell in cataracts of a rich golden color it looked as if it were pouring down from her head and like the water of the dustbrook vanishing in a golden vapor air it reached the floor it came flowing from under the edge of a coronet of gold set with alternated pearls and emeralds in front of the crown was a great emerald which looked somehow as if out of it it come the light they had followed there was no ornament else about her except on her slippers which were one mass of gleaming emeralds of various shades of green all mingling lovelily like the waving of grass and the wind and sun she looked about five and twenty years old and for all the difference Curdie knew somehow or other he could not have told how that the face before him was that of the old princess Irene's great great grandmother by this time all around them had grown light and now first they could see where they were they stood in a great blended cavern which Curdie recognized as that in which the goblins had their state assemblies but strange to tell the light by which they saw came streaming sparkling and shooting from stones of many colors in the sides and floor and roof of the cavern stones of all the colors of the rainbow and many more it was a glorious sight the whole rugged place flashing with colors in one spot a great light of deep cubuncular red in another of sapphire blue in another of topaz yellow while here and there were groups of stones of all hues and sizes and again nebulous spaces of thousands of tiniest spots of brilliancy of every conceivable shade sometimes the colors ran together made a little river or lake of lambent into fusing and changing tints which by their very gracious seemed to imitate the flowing of water or waves made by the wind Curdie would have gazed entranced but that all the beauty of the cavern, yes of all he knew of the whole creation seemed gathered in one center of harmony and loveliness in the person of the ancient lady who stood before him in the very summer of beauty and strength turning from the first glance of the circumjacent splendor it dwindled into nothing as he looked again at the lady nothing flashed or glowed or shone about her and yet it was with a provision of the truth that he said I was here once before mom I know that, Curdie, she replied the place was full of torches and the walls gleamed but nothing as they do now and there is no light in the place you want to know where the light comes from she said smiling yes, mom then see I will go out of the cavern do not be afraid but watch she went slowly out the moment she turned her back to go the light began to pale and fade the moment she was out of their sight the place was black as night save that now the smoky yellow red of their lamps which they thought had gone out long ago cast a dusky glimmer around them Chapter 7 what is in a name for a time that seemed to them long the two men stood waiting while still the mother of the light did not return so long was she absent that they began to grow anxious how were they to find their way from the natural hollows of the mountain crossed by goblin paths if their lamps should go out to spend the night there would mean to sit and wait until an earthquake rent the mountain while the earth herself fell back into the smelting furnace of the sun when she had issued for it was all night and no faintest dawn in the bosom of the world so long did they wait unrevisited that had there not been two of them either would at length have concluded the vision a home-born product of his own seething brain and their lamps were going out for they grew redder and smokier but they did not lose courage for there is a kind of capillary attraction in the facing of two souls that lifts faith quite beyond the level to which either could raise it alone they knew that they had seen the lady of emeralds and it was to give them their own desire that she had gone from them and neither would yield for a moment to the half doubts and half dreads that awoke in his heart and still she who with her absence darkened their air did not return they grew weary and sat down on the rocky floor for wait they would indeed wait they must each set his lamp by his knee and watched it die slowly it sank dulled looked lazy and stupid but ever as it sank and dulled the omissioner's mind of the lady of light grew stronger and clearer together the two lamps panted and shuddered first one then the other went out leaving for a moment a great red, evil-smelling snuff then all was the blackness of darkness up to their very hearts and everywhere around them was it? no, far away it looked miles away Sean won minute faint point of green light where who could tell they only knew that it shone it grew larger and seemed to draw nearer until at last as they watched with speechless delight de-expectation it seemed once more within reach of an outstretched hand then it spread and melted away as before and there were eyes and a face and a lovely form and low the whole cavern blazing with lights innumerable and gorgeous yet soft and interfused so blended indeed that the eye had to search and see in order to separate distinct spots of special colour the moment they saw the speck in the vast distance they had risen and stood on their feet when it came nearer they bowed their heads yet now they looked with fearless eyes for the woman that was old yet young was a joy to see and filled their hearts with reverent delight she turned first to Peter I have known you long she said I have met you going to and from the mine and see you working in it for the last forty years how should it be madam that a grandlady like you should take notice of a poor man like me said Peter humbly but more foolishly than he could then have understood I am poor as well as rich she said I too work for my bread and I show myself no favour when I pay myself my own wages last night when you sat by the brook and heard you told you about my pigeon and my spinning and wondered whether he could believe that he had actually seen me I heard what you said to each other I am always about as the miners said the other night when they talked of me as old mother was a whop the lovely lady laughed and her laugh was a lightening of delight in their souls yes she went on you have got to thank me that you are so poor Peter I have seen to that and it had done well for both you and me my friend things come to the poor that can't get in at the door of the rich their money somehow blocks it up it is a great privilege to be poor Peter one that no man ever coveted and but a very few have sought to retain but one that yet many have learned to prize you must not mistake however and imagine it a virtue it is but a privilege and one also that like other privileges may be terribly misused had you been rich my Peter you would not have been so good to some rich men I know and now I am going to tell you what no one knows but myself you Peter and your wife both have the blood of the royal family in your veins I have been trying to cultivate your family tree every branch of which is known to me and I expect Curdie to turn out a blossom on it therefore I have been training him for a work that must soon be done I was near losing him and had to send my pigeon had he not shot it that would have been better but he repented and that shall be as good in the end she turned to Curdie and smiled mom said Curdie may I ask questions why not Curdie because I have been told mom that nobody must ask the king questions the king never made that law she answered with some displeasure you may ask as many as you please that is so long as they are sensible only I may take a few thousand years to answer some of them but that's nothing of all things time is the cheapest then would you mind telling me now mom for I feel very confused about it are you the lady of the silver moon yes Curdie you may call me that if you like what it means is true and now I see you dark and clothed in green and the mother of all the light that dwells in the stones of the earth and up there they call you old mother Wotherwop and the princess Irene you told me you were her great-wage grandmother and you spin the spider threads and take care of a whole people of pigeons and you are worn to a pale shadow with old age and are as young as anybody can be not to be too young and as strong I do believe as I am the old lady stooped towards a large green stone bedded in the rock of the floor and looking like a well of grassy light in it she laid hold of it with her fingers broke it out and gave it to Peter there cried Curdie I told you so twenty men could not have done that and your fingers are white and smooth as any ladies in the land I don't know what to make of it I could give you twenty names more to call me Curdie and not one of them would be a false one what does it matter how many names if the person is one ah but it is not names only mom look at what you were like last night and what I see you now shapes are only dresses Curdie and dresses are only names that which is inside is the same all the time but then how can all the shapes speak the truth it would want thousands more to speak the truth Curdie and then they could not but there is a point I must not let you mistake about it is one thing the shape I choose to put on and quite another the shape that foolish talk and nursery tale may please to put upon me also it is one thing what you or your father may think about me and quite another what a foolish or bad man may see in me for instance if a thief were to come in here just now he would think he saw the demon of the mine all in green flames come to protect her treasure and would run like a hunted wild goat I should be all the same but his evil eyes would see me as I was not I think I understand said Curdie Peter said the lady turning then to him he will have to give up Curdie for a little while so long as he loves his mom that will not matter much ah you're right there my friend said the beautiful princess and as she said it she put out her hand and took the hard horny hand of the miner in it and held it for a moment lovingly I need say no more she added for we understand each other you and I Peter the tears came into Peter's eyes he bowed his head in thankfulness and his heart was much too full to speak then the great old young beautiful princess turned to Curdie now Curdie are you ready she said yes mom answered Curdie you do not know what for you do mom that is enough you could not have given me a better answer or done more to prepare yourself Curdie she returned with one of her radiant smiles do you think you will know me again I think so but how can I tell what you may look like next ah that indeed how can you tell or how could I expect you should but those who know me well know me whatever new dress or shape or name I may be in and by and by you will have learned to do so too but if you want me to know you again mom for certain sure said Curdie could you not give me some sign I'll tell me something about you that never changes or some other way to know you or thing to know you by no Curdie that would be to keep you from knowing me you must know me in quite another way from that it would not be the least used to you or me if I were to make you know me in that way it would be but to know the sign of me not to know me myself it would be no better than if I were to take this emerald out of my crown and give it to you to take home with you and you were to call it me and talk to it as if it heard and saw and loved you much good that would do you Curdie no you must do what you can to know me and if you do you will you shall see me again in very different circumstances from these and I will tell you so much it may be in a very different shape but come now I would lead you out of this cavern my good Joan will be getting too anxious about you one word more you will allow that the men knew little what they were talking about this morning when they told all those tales of old mother Wotherwup but did it occur to you to think how it was they fell to talking about me at all it was because I came to them I was beside them all the time they were talking about me though they were far enough from knowing it and had very little besides foolishness to say as she spoke she turned and led the way from the cavern which as if a door had been closed sank into absolute blackness behind them and now they saw nothing more of the lady except the green star which again seemed a good distance in front of them and to which they came no nearer although following it at a quick pace through the mountain such was their confidence in her guidance however and so fearless were they in consequence that they felt their way neither with hand nor foot but walked straight on through the pitched art galleries where in that length the night of the upper world looked into the mouth of the mine the green light seemed to lose its way among the stars and they saw it no more out they came into the cool blessed night it was very late and only starlight to their surprise three paces away they saw seated upon a stone an old country woman in a cloak which they took for black when they came close up to it they saw it was red good evening said Peter good evening returned the old woman in a voice old as a self but Curdie took off his cap and said I am your servant princess the old woman replied come to me in the dovetail tomorrow night Curdie alone I will mom said Curdie so they parted and father and son went home to wife and mother two persons in one rich happy woman End of Section 5 Section 6 of the Princess and Curdie this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Lizzie Driver The Princess and Curdie by George Macdonald Chapter 8 Curdie's Mission The next night Curdie went home from the mine a little earlier than usual to make himself tidy before going to the dovetower the princess had not appointed an exact time for him to be there he would go as near the time he had gone first as he could on his way to the bottom of the hill he met his father coming up the sun was then down and the warm first of the twilight filled the evening he came rather wearily up the hill the road he thought must have grown steeper in part since he was Curdie's age his back was to the light of the sunset which closed him all round in a beautiful setting and Curdie thought what a grand looking man his father was even when he was tired it is greed and laziness and selfishness not hunger or weariness or cold that take the dignity out of a man and make him look mean ah Curdie there you are he said seeing his son come bounding along as if it were morning with him and not evening you look tired father said Curdie yes my boy I'm not so young as you not so old as the princess said Curdie tell me this said Peter why do people talk about going downhill when they begin to get old it seems to me that then first they begin to go uphill you look to me father when I caught sight of you as if you had been climbing the hill all your life and was soon to get to the top nobody can tell when that will be returned Peter we're so ready to think we're just at the top when it lies miles away but I must not keep you my boy for you're wanted and we shall be anxious to know what the princess says to you that is if she will allow you to tell us I think she will for she knows there is nobody more to be trusted than my father and mother said Curdie with pride and away he shot and ran and jumped and almost seemed to fly down the long winding steep path until he came to the gate of the king's house there he meant an unexpected obstruction in the open door stood the housekeeper and she seemed to broaden herself out until she almost filled the doorway so she said it's you is it young man you are the person that comes in and goes out when he pleases and keeps running up and down my stairs without ever saying by your leave or even wiping his shoes and always leaves the door open don't you know this is my house no I do not returned Curdie respectfully you forget mom that it is the king's house that is all the same the king left it to me to take care of and that you shall know is the king dead mom that he has left it to you asked Curdie half in doubt from the self-assertion of the woman insolent fellow exclaimed to the housekeeper don't you see by my dress that I am in the king's service and am I not one of his minors ah that goes for nothing I am one of his household you are an out-of-doors labourer you are a nobody you carry a pickaxe I carry the keys at my girdle see but you must not call one a nobody to whom the king has spoken said Curdie go along with you cried to the housekeeper and would have shut the door in his face had she not been afraid that when she stepped back he would step in ere she could get it in motion for it was very heavy and always seemed unwilling to shut Curdie came a pace nearer she lifted the great house-key from her side and threatened to strike him down with it calling aloud on ma and welk and plout the men's servants under her to come and help her ere one of them could answer however she gave a great shriek and turned and fled leaving the door wide open Curdie looked behind him and saw an animal whose gruesome oddity even he who knew so many of the strange creatures two of which were never the same that used to live inside the mountain with their masters the goblin had never seen equaled its eyes were flaming with anger but it seemed to be at the housekeeper for it came cowering and creeping up and laid its head on the ground at Curdie's feet Curdie hardly waited to look at it however but ran into the house eager to get up the stairs before any of the men should come to annoy he had no fear of there preventing him without halt or hinderance though the passages were nearly dark he reached the door of the princess's work room and knocked come in said to the voice of the princess Curdie opened the door but his astonishment saw no room there could he have opened a wrong door there was the great sky and the stars and beneath he could see nothing only darkness but what was that in the sky straight in front of him a great wheel of fire turning and turning and fleshing out blue lights come in Curdie said the voice again I would at once mom said Curdie are you sure I was standing at your door why should you doubt it Curdie because I see neither walls nor floor only darkness in the great sky that is all right Curdie come in Curdie stepped forward at once he was indeed for the very crumb of a moment tempted to feel before him with his foot but he saw that would be to distrust the princess and a greater rudeness he could not offer her so he stepped straight in I will not say without a little tremble at the thought of finding no floor beneath his foot but that which had need of the floor found it and his foot was satisfied no sooner was he in than he saw that the great revolving wheel in the sky was the princess's spinning wheel near the other end of the room turning very fast he could see no sky or stars anymore but the wheel was flashing out blue oh such a lovely sky blue light and behind it of course sat the princess but whether an old woman as thin as a skeleton leaf or a glorious lady as young as perfection he could not tell for the turning and flashing of the wheel listen to the wheel said the voice which had already grown dear to Curdie its very tone was precious like a jewel not as a jewel for no jewel could compare with it in preciousness and Curdie listened and listened what is it saying? asked the voice it is singing answered Curdie what is it singing? Curdie tried to make it out but thought he could not for no sooner had he got hold of something than it vanished again yet he listened and listened entranced with delight thank you Curdie said the voice mom said Curdie I did try hard for a while but I could not make anything of it oh yes you did and you have been telling it to me shall I tell you again what I told my wheel and my wheel told you and you have just told me without knowing it please mom then the lady began to sing and her wheel spun an accompaniment to a song and the music of the wheel was like the music of a Neolian harp blown upon the wind that bloweth where it lisseth all the sweet sounds of that spinning wheel now they were gold, now silver now grass, now palm trees now ancient cities, now rubies now mountain brooks, now peacocks feathers now clouds, now snowdrops and now mid-sea islands but for the voice that sung through it all about that I have no words to tell it would make you weep if I were able to tell you what that was like it was so beautiful and true and lovely but this is something like the word of its song the stars are spinning their threads and the clouds are the dust that flies and the suns are weaving them up for the time when the sleepers shall rise the ocean and music rolls and gems are turning to eyes and the trees are gathering souls for the day when the sleepers shall rise the weepers are learning to smile and laughter to glean the sighs burn and bury thy care and guile for the day when the sleepers shall rise all the Jews and the moths and the daisy red the larks and the glimmers and flows the lilies and sparrows and daily bread and the something that nobody knows the princess stopped her wheel stopped and she laughed and her laugh was sweeter than song and wheel sweeter than running brook and silver bell sweeter than joy itself for the heart of the laugh was love come now, Curdie, to this side of my wheel and you shall find me and her laugh seemed sounding on still in the words as if they were made of breath that had laughed Curdie obeyed and passed the wheel and there she stood to receive him fairer than when he saw her last a little younger still and dressed not in green and emeralds but in pale blue with a coronet of silver set with pearls and slippers covered with opals that gleamed every colour of the rainbow it was some time before Curdie could take his eyes from the marvel of her loveliness fearing it to last that he was rude he turned them away and behold he was in a room that was for beauty marvellous the lofty ceiling was all golden vine whose great clusters of carbonuckles rubies and chrysoberals hung down like the bosses of groin d'arches and in its centre hung the most glorious lamp that human eyes ever saw the silver moon itself with a heart of light so wondrous potent that it rendered the mass translucent and altogether radiant the room was so large that, looking back he could scarcely see the end at which he entered but the other was only a few yards from him and there he saw another wonder on a huge hearth a great fire was burning and the fire was a huge heap of roses and yet it was fire the smell of the roses filled the air and the heat of the flames of them glowed upon his face he turned an inquiring look upon the lady and saw that she was now seated in an ancient chair the legs of which were crusted with gems but the upper part like a nest of daisies and moss and green grass Curdie she said in answer to his eyes you have stood more than one trial already and have stood them well now I am going to put you to a harder do you think you are prepared for it? how can I tell, ma'am? he returned seeing I do not know what it is or what preparation it needs judge me yourself, ma'am it needs only trust and obedience answered the lady I dare not say anything, ma'am if you think me fit, command me it will hurt you terribly, Curdie but that will be all no real hurt, but much good will come to you from it Curdie made no answer but stood gazing with parted lips in the lady's face go and thrust both your hands into that fire she said quickly, almost hurriedly Curdie dared not stop to think it was much too terrible to think about he rushed to the fire and thrust both of his hands right into the middle of the heap of flaming roses and his arms half way up to the elbows and it did hurt but it did not draw them back he held to the pain as if it were a thing that would kill him if he let it go and indeed it would have done he was in terrible fear lest it should conquer him but when it had risen to the pitch that he thought he could bear it no longer it began to fall again and went on growing less and less until by contrast with its former severity it had become rather pleasant at last it ceased altogether and Curdie thought his hands must be burnt to cinders if not ashes for he did not feel them at all the princess told him to take them out and look at them he did so all that was gone of them was the rough hard skin they were white and smooth like the princesses come to me she said he obeyed and saw to his surprise that her face looked as if she had been weeping oh princess what is the matter he cried did I make a noise and vex you no Curdie she answered but it was very bad did you feel it too then of course I did but now it is over and all is well would you like to know why I made you put your hands in the fire Curdie looked at them again then said to take the marks off the work of them and make them fit for the king's court I suppose no Curdie answered the princess shaking her head for she was not pleased with the answer it would be a poor way of making your hands fit for the king's court to take off them signs of his service there is a far greater difference on them than that do you feel none no mom you will though by and by when the time comes but perhaps even then you might not know what had been given you therefore I will tell you have you ever heard what some philosophers say that men were all animals once no mom it is of no consequence but there is another thing that is of the greatest consequence this that all men if they do not take care go down the hill to the animals country that many men are actually all their lives going to be beasts people knew it once but it is long since they forgot it I am not surprised to hear it mom when I think of some of our miners ah but you must beware Curdie of this man or that man that he is travelling beast would there are not nearly so many going that way as at first sight you might think when you met your father on the hill tonight you stood and spoke together on the same spot and although one of you was going up and the other coming down at a little distance no one could have told which was bound in the one direction and which in the other just so two people may be at the same spot in manners and behaviour and yet one may be getting better and the other worse which is just the greatest of all differences that could possibly exist between them but mom said Curdie where is the good of knowing that there is such a difference if you can never know where it is now Curdie you must mind exactly the words I use because although the right words cannot do exactly what I want them to do the wrong words will certainly do what I do not want them to do I did not say you can never know when there is a necessity for you knowing when you have to do important business with this or that man there is always a way of knowing enough to keep you from any great blunder and as you will have important business to do by and by and that with people of whom you yet know nothing it will be necessary that you should have some better means than usual of learning the nature of them now listen since it is always what they do whether in their minds or their bodies that makes men go down to be less than men that is beasts the change always comes first in their hands and first of all in the inside hands to which the outside ones are but as the gloves they do not know it of course for a beast does not know that he is a beast and the nearer a man gets to being a beast the less he knows it neither can their best friends or their worst enemies indeed see any difference in their hands for they see only the living gloves of them but there are not a few who feel a vague something repulsive in the hand of a man who is growing a beast now here is what the rose fire has done for you it has made your hand so knowing and wise it has brought your real hand so near the outside of your flesh gloves that you will henceforth be able to know at once the hand of a man who is growing into a beast nay more you will feel at once the foot of the beast he is growing just as if there were no glove made like a man's hand between you and it hence of course it follows that you will be able often and with further education in zoology will be always able to tell not only when a man is growing a beast but what beast he is growing to for you will know the foot what it is and what beast it is according then to a knowledge of that beast will be your knowledge of the man you have to do with only there is one beautiful and awful thing about it that if anyone gifted with this perception once uses it for his own ends it is taken from him and then not knowing that it is gone he is in a far worse condition than before for he trusts at what he has not got how dreadful said Curdie I must mind what I am about yes indeed Curdie but may not once sometimes make a mistake without being able to help it yes but so long as he is not after his own ends he will never make a serious mistake I suppose you want me ma'am to warn everyone whose hand tells me that he is growing a beast because as you say he does not know it himself the prince has smiled much good that would do Curdie I don't say there are no cases in which it would be of use but they are very rare and peculiar cases and if such come you will know them to such a person there is in general no insults like the truth he cannot endure it not because he is growing a beast but because he is ceasing to be a man it is the dying man in him that it makes uncomfortable and he trots or creeps or swims or flutters out of its way calls it a foolish feeling a whim an old wife's fable a bit of priest's humbug an effet superstition and so on and is there no hope for him? can nothing be done? it's so awful to think of going down down down like that even when it's with his own will that's what seems to me to make it worst of all said Curdie you are right answered the princess nodding her head but there is this amount of excuse to make for all such remember that they do not know what or how horrid their coming fate is many a lady so delicate and nice that she can bear nothing coarser than the finest linen to touch her body if she had a mirror that could show her the animal she is growing to as it lies waiting within the fair skin and the fine linen and the silk and the jewels she would receive a shock that might possibly wake her up why then, ma'am, shouldn't she have it? the princess held her peace come here, Lena she said after a long pause from somewhere behind Curdie crept forward the same hideous animal which had formed at his feet at the door and which, without us knowing it had followed him every step up the dove-tower she ran to the princess and lay down flat at her feet looking up at her with an expression so pitiful that in Curdie's heart it overcame all the ludicrousness of the horrible mass of incongruities she had a very short body and very long legs made like an elephant so that in lying down she kneeled with both pairs her tail which dragged on the floor behind her was twice as long and quite as thick as her body her head was something between that of a polar bear and a snake her eyes were dark green with a yellow light in them her underteeth came up like a fringe of icicles only very white, outside of her upper lip her throat looked as if the hair had been plucked off it showed a skin white and smooth give Curdie a paw, Lena, said the princess the creature rose and lifting a long foreleg held up a great dog like poor to Curdie he took it gently but what a shudder as of terrified delight ran through him when instead of the poor of a dog such as it seemed to his eyes he clasped in his great mining fist the soft neat little hand of a child he took it in both of his and held it as if he could not let it go the green eyes stared at him with their yellow light and the mouth was turned up toward him with its constant half grin but here was the child's hand if he could but pull the child out of the beast his eyes sought the princess she was watching him with evidence satisfaction Mom, here is a child's hand said Curdie your gift does more for you than it promised it is yet better to perceive a hidden good than a hidden evil but began Curdie I am not going to answer any more questions this evening interrupted the princess you have not half got to the bottom of the answers I have already given you that poor in your hand now might almost teach you the whole science of natural history the heavenly sort I mean I will think said Curdie but oh please one more word may I tell my father and mother all about it certainly though perhaps now it may be their turn to find it a little difficult to believe that things went just as you must tell them they shall see that I believe it all this time said Curdie tell them that tomorrow morning you must set out for the court not like a great man but just as poor as you are they'd better not speak about it tell them also that it will be a long time before they hear of you again but they must not lose heart and tell your father to lay that stone I gave him at night in a safe place not because of the greatness of its price although it is such an emerald as no prince has in his crown but because it will be a news bearer between you and him as often as he gets at all anxious about you he must take it and lay it in the fire and leave it there when he goes to bed in the morning he must find it in the ashes and if it be as green as ever then all goes well with you if it have lost colour things go ill with you but if it be very pale indeed then you are in great danger and he must come to me yes mom said Curdie please am I to go now yes answered the princess and held out a hand to him Curdie took it trembling with joy it was a very beautiful hand not small very smooth but not very soft and just the same to his fire-tort touch than it was to his eyes he would have stood there all night holding it if she had not gently withdrawn it I will provide you a servant she said for your journey and to wait upon you afterward but where am I to go mom and what am I to do you have given me no message to carry neither have you said what I wanted for I go without an ocean whether I am to walk this way or that or what I am to do when I get I don't know where Curdie said the princess and there was a tone of reminder in his own name as she spoke it did I not tell you to tell your father and mother that you were set out for the court and you know that lies to the north you must learn to use far less direct directions than that you must not be like a dull servant that needs to be told again and again before he will understand you have orders enough to start with and you will find as you go on and as you need to know what you have to do but I warn you that perhaps it will not look the least like what you may have been fancying I should require of you I have one idea of you and your work and you have another I do not blame you for that you cannot help it yet but you must be ready to let my idea which sets you working set your idea right be true and honest and fearless and all shall go well with you and your work and all with whom your work lies and so with your parents and me too Curdie she added after a little pause the young minor bowed his head low patted the strange head that lay at the princess's feet and turned away as soon as he passed the spinning wheel which looked in the midst of the glorious room just like any wheel you might find in a country cottage old and worn and dingy and dusty the splendour of the place vanished and he saw but the big bear room he seemed at first to have entered with the moon the princess's moon no doubt shining in at one of the windows upon the spinning wheel End of Section 6


What's up guys, this is John Hammond looking at Pico CTF 2017 and we started to move into the binary exploitation category now that we finished up Cryptography, let's check out this challenge 40 points bash loop It says we found a program that's hiding a flag but requires you to guess the number it's thinking of Chances are Linux has an easy way to try all the numbers and go to this location file system and try it out Sweet so we'll have to connect to this right with SSH to the web shell get to the directory And then we can do a Google search on bash loops, right? Because we want to do our own research do our own self-learning. So let's fire up a terminal Get to Pico CTF connect to our shell Cool once we're in we can move to that directory and we have the files here bash loop Which is the program it looks like and the flag which we can't just go ahead and read It has to be determined read out by the bash loop program. So alright looks like If I run bash loop it says what number am I thinking of it's between 0 and 4096, okay, so I'm assuming we can pass it as an argument, right? Let's try Elite just because we're cool. Nope. That's wrong. Okay, so now Would come the time for our own self-learning so we can just google whatever bash loops if we wanted to And first result should be cool should give us what we want. It looks like it will let us loop through numbers In a set that we can just type out if we want, but I don't want to write out 4096 numbers there that's stupid And that's like okay, essentially the the syntax or the semantics for actually writing stuff out Heading a code block of commands that we want to run etc Okay, it looks like we are able to Use this notation here with curly braces to count one to a certain number So we can probably get that variable i And have that be between 0 and 4096 with just that syntax, right? Looks like it has a start and increment syntax and a later version of bash cool So Let's try that This is the syntax for when we're doing it in a script. So let's go ahead and create a script for it We'll have to put this in the temporary directory in our case In the shell, but if we don't want to do that, let's do it so I can teach a moment Let's create our directory for ourselves in the temporary directory If you haven't seen the temporary directory before it is your home in linux when you are doing CTF game we're actually actually have access to a shell server Because you can't have any right access in other folders So you can create a home for yourself in the temporary directory. You won't be able to see anyone else's But it's a good place for you to create files and work on your own So I will now Want to copy that location because we want to be able to keep track of that in our in our command. So that's nano our script Dot s dot sh put our shebang line in here right and for i in that syntax that we just found 0 to 4096 cool And then do and done Create the code block so we can indent in there and we can just let's echo out the value of i right So in bash that dollar sign will give us the value of a variable so we can just see that working through it Let's ch mod plus x Our script go ahead and run it and it just runs through all of the numbers here perfect Okay, so let's try and give that to the program which now we need to specify by Including the absolute path here and then it's called bash loop right with an argument of That variable value so the current count that we're on now like try and run this our script. It says whoa, no such file I think it doesn't have an under the score. Is that right? Yeah, I didn't have another score My bad. All right, cool. So it's giving us output now. It says nope. That's wrong. Pick a different number so Now we can use our grep skills that even kind of hinted at here You made it use grep to filter out the responses as well If you've checked out the man page for grep you also have an option tack v To invert the match so return lines that that don't have this specific pattern in there So if we wanted to find lines that didn't have nope in them, we could just go ahead and change Our script after we run it We can pipe that to grep tack v and ignore anything that has nope in it So just like that. Boom. We have our flag because that'll only the only the confirm Success line is printed out. So there's the flag. Let's take note of that make directory What do we want to do here? We want to just take note of this flag. So that's bash loop complete And we can write a get flag script if we want to for this thing But let's go ahead and submit this for one thing Up 40 points. Heck yeah Because we are using the shell in this thing. We can determine what that uh Number is that the program is actually looking for by changing our script To echo that out. Let's echo dollar sign i And let's not include a new line. So that's minus n for an argument for uh echo and Then run that same command here So actually give it to the program, but echo minus n will just display the number that we're looking at So when we run our script, it should give us Okay, the number was 2454. You can see it just right before they say yay So if we wanted to run our shell script with that path Run bash loop With that number It should connect to the service cool and then we can rev that Get the first Column rev it back. So we have just the flag cool and that can be our get shell script Or get flag script, sorry Include our shebang line Take advantage of the shell script make sure we have our connection run that command all at once And that's all it took to get the flag super cool, right? Because bash loops allow us to brute force because we're able to use a program or some computer skills and power and processing We have automation so we can just run through a crap ton of numbers and do really cool stuff So that's awesome for brute forcing. Keep that in mind. Thanks guys. Hope you enjoyed this I want to give a special shout out and some love to people that support me on patreon I'm gonna try and run through this list to see if I can do it. I'm gonna butcher everyone's name. I'm sorry Uh, spencer clark gal Horowitz is okay. Attila. I'm sorry or colothean really destroyable. It's bastion of terror Jan grob timothy county jake of hr1fl not rolling on floor laughing, but rolling one floor laughing Uh, thomas rock dacus jt ton morris morris. Sorry con Torowitz. I was worried about the last name I was stressing myself out ben squeeny william wittcomb Justin man and kimbo you guys are phenomenal. Thank you so much for your help and support and donations $1 on patreon gives you an extra shout out just like this at the end of every video um $5 a month on patreon will give you really access to everything I create put on youtube and uh, that's it I don't have any other cool incentives until you give me ideas. So, uh, I will make something cool eventually. I promise I hope I'm a sellout If you do like this video, please do like the video Maybe leave me a comment Maybe subscribe and if you're willing to check me out on patreon and my new website www.johnhammon.org. See you soon