Long ago there lived a rich merchant who, besides possessing more
treasures than any king in the world, had in his great hall three
chairs, one of silver, one of gold, and one of diamonds. But his
greatest treasure of all was his only daughter, who was called
Catherine.

One day Catherine was sitting in her own room when suddenly the door
flew open, and in came a tall and beautiful woman holding in her hands a
little wheel.

'Catherine,' she said, going up to the girl, 'which would you rather
have-a happy youth or a happy old age?'

Catherine was so taken by surprise that she did not know what to answer,
and the lady repeated again, 'Which would you rather have-a happy youth
or a happy old age?'

Then Catherine thought to herself, 'If I say a happy youth, then I shall
have to suffer all the rest of my life. No, I would bear trouble now,
and have something better to look forward to.' So she looked up and
replied, 'Give me a happy old age.'

'So be it,' said the lady, and turned her wheel as she spoke, vanishing
the next moment as suddenly as she had come.

Now this beautiful lady was the Destiny of poor Catherine.

Only a few days after this the merchant heard the news that all his
finest ships, laden with the richest merchandise, had been sunk in a
storm, and he was left a beggar. The shock was too much for him. He took
to his bed, and in a short time he was dead of his disappointment.

So poor Catherine was left alone in the world without a penny or a
creature to help her. But she was a brave girl and full of spirit, and
soon made up her mind that the best thing she could do was to go to the
nearest town and become a servant. She lost no time in getting herself
ready, and did not take long over her journey; and as she was passing
down the chief street of the town a noble lady saw her out of the
window, and, struck by her sad face, said to her: 'Where are you going
all alone, my pretty girl?'

'Ah, my lady, I am very poor, and must go to service to earn my bread.'

'I will take you into my service,' said she; and Catherine served her
well.

Some time after her mistress said to Catherine, 'I am obliged to go out
for a long while, and must lock the house door, so that no thieves shall
get in.'

So she went away, and Catherine took her work and sat down at the
window. Suddenly the door burst open, and in came her Destiny.

'Oh! so here you are, Catherine! Did you really think I was going to
leave you in peace?' And as she spoke she walked to the linen press
where Catherine's mistress kept all her finest sheets and underclothes,
tore everything in pieces, and flung them on the floor. Poor Catherine
wrung her hands and wept, for she thought to herself, 'When my lady
comes back and sees all this ruin she will think it is my fault,' and
starting up, she fled through the open door. Then Destiny took all the
pieces and made them whole again, and put them back in the press, and
when everything was tidy she too left the house.

When the mistress reached home she called Catherine, but no Catherine
was there. 'Can she have robbed me?' thought the old lady, and looked
hastily round the house; but nothing was missing. She wondered why
Catherine should have disappeared like this, but she heard no more of
her, and in a few days she filled her place.

Meanwhile Catherine wandered on and on, without knowing very well where
she was going, till at last she came to another town. Just as before,
a noble lady happened to see her passing her window, and called out to
her, 'Where are you going all alone, my pretty girl?'

And Catherine answered, 'Ah, my lady, I am very poor, and must go to
service to earn my bread.'

'I will take you into my service,' said the lady; and Catherine served
her well, and hoped she might now be left in peace. But, exactly as
before, one day that Catherine was left in the house alone her Destiny
came again and spoke to her with hard words: 'What! are you here now?'
And in a passion she tore up everything she saw, till in sheer misery
poor Catherine rushed out of the house. And so it befell for seven
years, and directly Catherine found a fresh place her Destiny came and
forced her to leave it.

After seven years, however, Destiny seemed to get tired of persecuting
her, and a time of peace set in for Catherine. When she had been chased
away from her last house by Destiny's wicked pranks she had taken
service with another lady, who told her that it would be part of her
daily work to walk to a mountain that overshadowed the town, and,
climbing up to the top, she was to lay on the ground some loaves
of freshly baked bread, and cry with a loud voice, 'O Destiny, my
mistress,' three times. Then her lady's Destiny would come and take away
the offering. 'That will I gladly do,' said Catherine.

So the years went by, and Catherine was still there, and every day
she climbed the mountain with her basket of bread on her arm. She was
happier than she had been, but sometimes, when no one saw her, she would
weep as she thought over her old life, and how different it was to the
one she was now leading. One day her lady saw her, and said, 'Catherine,
what is it? Why are you always weeping?' And then Catherine told her
story.

'I have got an idea,' exclaimed the lady. 'To-morrow, when you take the
bread to the mountain, you shall pray my Destiny to speak to yours, and
entreat her to leave you in peace. Perhaps something may come of it!'

At these words Catherine dried her eyes, and next morning, when she
climbed the mountain, she told all she had suffered, and cried, 'O
Destiny, my mistress, pray, I entreat you, of my Destiny that she may
leave me in peace.'

And Destiny answered, 'Oh, my poor girl, know you not your Destiny lies
buried under seven coverlids, and can hear nothing? But if you will come
to-morrow I will bring her with me.'

And after Catherine had gone her way her lady's Destiny went to find
her sister, and said to her, 'Dear sister, has not Catherine suffered
enough? It is surely time for her good days to begin?'

And the sister answered, 'To-morrow you shall bring her to me, and I
will give her something that may help her out of her need.'

The next morning Catherine set out earlier than usual for the mountain,
and her lady's Destiny took the girl by the hand and led her to her
sister, who lay under the seven coverlids. And her Destiny held out
to Catherine a ball of silk, saying, 'Keep this--it may be useful some
day;' then pulled the coverings over her head again.

But Catherine walked sadly down the hill, and went straight to her lady
and showed her the silken ball, which was the end of all her high hopes.

'What shall I do with it?' she asked. 'It is not worth sixpence, and it
is no good to me!'

'Take care of it,' replied her mistress. 'Who can tell how useful it may
be?'

A little while after this grand preparations were made for the king's
marriage, and all the tailors in the town were busy embroidering fine
clothes. The wedding garment was so beautiful nothing like it had ever
been seen before, but when it was almost finished the tailor found that
he had no more silk. The colour was very rare, and none could be found
like it, and the king made a proclamation that if anyone happened to
possess any they should bring it to the court, and he would give them a
large sum.

'Catherine!' exclaimed the lady, who had been to the tailors and seen
the wedding garment, 'your ball of silk is exactly the right colour.
Bring it to the king, and you can ask what you like for it.'

Then Catherine put on her best clothes and went to the court, and looked
more beautiful than any woman there.

'May it please your majesty,' she said, 'I have brought you a ball of
silk of the colour you asked for, as no one else has any in the town.'

'Your majesty,' asked one of the courtiers, 'shall I give the maiden its
weight in gold?'

The king agreed, and a pair of scales were brought; and a handful of
gold was placed in one scale and the silken ball in the other. But lo!
let the king lay in the scales as many gold pieces as he would, the silk
was always heavier still. Then the king took some larger scales, and
heaped up all his treasures on one side, but the silk on the other
outweighed them all. At last there was only one thing left that had not
been put in, and that was his golden crown. And he took it from his head
and set it on top of all, and at last the scale moved and the ball had
founds its balance.

'Where got you this silk?' asked the king.

'It was given me, royal majesty, by my mistress,' replied Catherine.

'That is not true,' said the king, 'and if you do not tell me the truth
I will have your head cut off this instant.'

So Catherine told him the whole story, and how she had once been as rich
as he.

Now there lived at the court a wise woman, and she said to Catherine,
'You have suffered much, my poor girl, but at length your luck has
turned, and I know by the weighing of the scales through the crown that
you will die a queen.'

'So she shall,' cried the king, who overheard these words; 'she shall
die my queen, for she is more beautiful than all the ladies of the
court, and I will marry no one else.'

And so it fell out. The king sent back the bride he had promised to wed
to her own country, and the same Catherine was queen at the marriage
feast instead, and lived happy and contented to the end of her life.

Fifty years ago there lived a king who was very anxious to get married;
but, as he was quite determined that his wife should be as beautiful as
the sun, the thing was not so easy as it seemed, for no maiden came up
to his standard. Then he commanded a trusty servant to search through
the length and breadth of the land till he found a girl fair enough to
be queen, and if he had the good luck to discover one he was to bring
her back with him.

The servant set out at once on his journey, and sought high and low-in
castles and cottages; but though pretty maidens were plentiful as
blackberries, he felt sure that none of them would please the king.

One day he had wandered far and wide, and was feeling very tired and
thirsty. By the roadside stood a tiny little house, and here he knocked
and asked for a cup of water. Now in this house dwelt two sisters, and
one was eighty and the other ninety years old. They were very poor, and
earned their living by spinning. This had kept their hands very soft and
white, like the hands of a girl, and when the water was passed through
the lattice, and the servant saw the small, delicate fingers, he said to
himself: 'A maiden must indeed be lovely if she has a hand like that.'
And he made haste back, and told the king.

'Go back at once,' said his majesty, 'and try to get a sight of her.'

The faithful servant departed on his errand without losing any time,
and again he knocked at the door of the little house and begged for some
water. As before, the old woman did not open the door, but passed the
water through the lattice.

'Do you live here alone?' asked the man.

'No,' replied she, 'my sister lives with me. We are poor girls, and have
to work for our bread.'

'How old are you?'

'I am fifteen, and she is twenty.'

Then the servant went back to the king, and told him all he knew. And
his majesty answered: 'I will have the fifteen-year-old one. Go and
bring her here.'

The servant returned a third time to the little house and knocked at the
door. In reply to his knock the lattice window was pushed open, and a
voice inquired what it was he wanted.

'The king has desired me to bring back the youngest of you to become his
queen,' he replied.

'Tell his majesty I am ready to do his bidding, but since my birth no
ray of light has fallen upon my face. If it should ever do so I shall
instantly grow black. Therefore beg, I pray you, his most gracious
majesty to send this evening a shut carriage, and I will return in it to
the castle.

When the king heard this he ordered his great golden carriage to be
prepared, and in it to be placed some magnificent robes; and the old
woman wrapped herself in a thick veil, and was driven to the castle.

The king was eagerly awaiting her, and when she arrived he begged her
politely to raise her veil and let him see her face.

But she answered: 'Here the tapers are too bright and the light too
strong. Would you have me turn black under your very eyes?'

And the king believed her words, and the marriage took place without the
veil being once lifted. Afterwards, when they were alone, he raised the
corner, and knew for the first time that he had wedded a wrinkled old
woman. And, in a furious burst of anger, he dashed open the window and
flung her out. But, luckily for her, her clothes caught on a nail in the
wall, and kept her hanging between heaven and earth.

While she was thus suspended, expecting every moment to be dashed to the
ground, four fairies happened to pass by.

'Look, sisters,' cried one, 'surely that is the old woman that the king
sent for. Shall we wish that her clothes may give way, and that she
should be dashed to the ground?'

'Oh no! no!' exclaimed another. 'Let us wish her something good. I
myself will wish her youth.'

'And I beauty.'

'And I wisdom.'

'And I a tender heart.'

So spake the fairies, and went their way, leaving the most beautiful
maiden in the world behind them.

The next morning when the king looked from his window he saw this lovely
creature hanging on the nail. 'Ah! what have I done? Surely I must have
been blind last night!'

And he ordered long ladders to be brought and the maiden to be rescued.
Then he fell on his knees before her, and prayed her to forgive him, and
a great feast was made in her honour.

Some days after came the ninety-year-old sister to the palace and asked
for the queen.

'Who is that hideous old witch?' said the king.

'Oh, an old neighbour of mine, who is half silly,' she replied.

But the old woman looked at her steadily, and knew her again, and said:
'How have you managed to grow so young and beautiful? I should like to
be young and beautiful too.'

This question she repeated the whole day long, till at length the queen
lost patience and said: 'I had my old head cut off, and this new head
grew in its place.'

Then the old woman went to a barber, and spoke to him, saying, 'I will
give you all you ask if you will only cut off my head, so that I may
become young and lovely.'

'But, my good woman, if I do that you will die!'

But the old woman would listen to nothing; and at last the barber took
out his knife and struck the first blow at her neck.

'Ah!' she shrieked as she felt the pain.

'Il faut souffrir pour etre belle,' said the barber, who had been in
France.

And at the second blow her head rolled off, and the old woman was dead
for good and all.

There was once a fine gentleman whose entire worldly possessions
consisted of a boot-jack and a hair-brush; but he had the most beautiful
shirt-collar in the world, and it is about this that we are going to
hear a story.

The shirt-collar was so old that he began to think about marrying;
and it happened one day that he and a garter came into the wash-tub
together.

'Hulloa!' said the shirt-collar, 'never before have I seen anything so
slim and delicate, so elegant and pretty! May I be permitted to ask your
name?'

'I shan't tell you,' said the garter.

'Where is the place of your abode?' asked the shirt-collar.

But the garter was of a bashful disposition, and did not think it proper
to answer.

'Perhaps you are a girdle?' said the shirt-collar, 'an under girdle? for
I see that you are for use as well as for ornament, my pretty miss!'

'You ought not to speak to me!' said the garter' 'I'm sure I haven't
given you any encouragement!'

'When anyone is as beautiful as you,' said the shirt-collar, 'is not
that encouragement enough?'

'Go away, don't come so close!' said the garter. 'You seem to be a
gentleman!'

'So I am, and a very fine one too!' said the shirt-collar; 'I possess a
boot-jack and a hair-brush!'

That was not true; it was his master who owned these things; but he was
a terrible boaster.

'Don't come so close,' said the garter. 'I'm not accustomed to such
treatment!'

'What affectation!' said the shirt-collar. And then they were taken out
of the wash-tub, starched, and hung on a chair in the sun to dry, and
then laid on the ironing-board. Then came the glowing iron.

'Mistress widow!' said the shirt-collar, 'dear mistress widow! I am
becoming another man, all my creases are coming out; you are burning a
hole in me! Ugh! Stop, I implore you!'

'You rag!' said the iron, travelling proudly over the shirt-collar, for
it thought it was a steam engine and ought to be at the station drawing
trucks.

'Rag!' it said.

The shirt-collar was rather frayed out at the edge, so the scissors came
to cut off the threads.

'Oh!' said the shirt-collar, 'you must be a dancer! How high you can
kick! That is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen! No man can
imitate you!'

'I know that!' said the scissors.

'You ought to be a duchess!' said the shirt-collar. 'My worldly
possessions consist of a fine gentleman, a boot-jack, and a hair-brush.
If only I had a duchy!'

'What! He wants to marry me?' said the scissors, and she was so angry
that she gave the collar a sharp snip, so that it had to be cast aside
as good for nothing.

'Well, I shall have to propose to the hair-brush!' thought the
shirt-collar. 'It is really wonderful what fine hair you have, madam!
Have you never thought of marrying?'

'Yes, that I have!' answered the hair-brush; 'I'm engaged to the
boot-jack!'

'Engaged!' exclaimed the shirt-collar. And now there was no one he could
marry, so he took to despising matrimony.

Time passed, and the shirt-collar came in a rag-bag to the paper-mill.
There was a large assortment of rags, the fine ones in one heap, and the
coarse ones in another, as they should be. They had all much to tell,
but no one more than the shirt-collar, for he was a hopeless braggart.

'I have had a terrible number of love affairs!' he said. 'They give me
no peace. I was such a fine gentleman, so stiff with starch! I had a
boot-jack and a hair-brush, which I never used! You should just have
seen me then! Never shall I forget my first love! She was a girdle, so
delicate and soft and pretty! She threw herself into a wash-tub for my
sake! Then there was a widow, who glowed with love for me. But I
left her alone, till she became black. Then there was the dancer, who
inflicted the wound which has caused me to be here now; she was very
violent! My own hair-brush was in love with me, and lost all her hair
in consequence. Yes, I have experienced much in that line; but I grieve
most of all for the garter,-I mean, the girdle, who threw herself into a
wash-tub. I have much on my conscience; it is high time for me to become
white paper!'

And so he did! he became white paper, the very paper on which this story
is printed. And that was because he had boasted so terribly about things
which were not true. We should take this to heart, so that it may not
happen to us, for we cannot indeed tell if we may not some day come to
the rag-bag, and be made into white paper, on which will be printed our
whole history, even the most secret parts, so that we too go about the
world relating it, like the shirt-collar.