THE BLUE BIRD



Once upon a time there lived a King who was immensely rich. He
had broad lands, and sacks overflowing with gold and silver; but
he did not care a bit for all his riches, because the Queen, his
wife, was dead. He shut himself up in a little room and knocked
his head against the walls for grief, until his courtiers were
really afraid that he would hurt himself. So they hung
feather-beds between the tapestry and the walls, and then he
could go on knocking his head as long as it was any consolation
to him without coming to much harm. All his subjects came to see
him, and said whatever they thought would comfort him: some were
grave, even gloomy with him; and some agreeable, even gay; but
not one could make the least impression upon him. Indeed, he
hardly seemed to hear what they said. At last came a lady who was
wrapped in a black mantle, and seemed to be in the deepest grief.
She wept and sobbed until even the King's attention was
attracted; and when she said that, far from coming to try and
diminish his grief, she, who had just lost a good husband, was
come to add her tears to his, since she knew what he must be
feeling, the King redoubled his lamentations. Then he told the
sorrowful lady long stories about the good qualities of his
departed Queen, and she in her turn recounted all the virtues of
her departed husband; and this passed the time so agreeably that
the King quite forgot to thump his head against the feather-beds,
and the lady did not need to wipe the tears from her great blue