When the king married again she was only fifteen years old. She did not care to be dressed very grandly, but liked rather robes of floating taffeta, with jewelled clasps, and garlands of flowers to adorn her lovely hair. They called her Florine, because she was like Flora, so fresh and young and beautiful was she. The king had only one daughter by his first marriage, and she was looked on as the eighth wonder of the world. It often happens that you have but to know people’s weak points to win their hearts and do with them what you will. In the end, to everybody’s astonishment, he married her and her mourning garments were changed to gowns of green and rose colour. The widow still declared she would always lament her husband, but the king begged her not to sorrow for ever. Gradually he spoke less of his wife then he stopped speaking of her altogether. Her large blue eyes, fringed with long black eyelashes, she rolled this way and that way, to make the most of their beauty and then her cheeks were rosy too. When the cunning widow saw that there was nothing more to be said on the matter, she lifted her veil just a little, and it was some relief to the king in the midst of his distress to look on this poor lady afflicted like himself. They talked and talked till they had not a word more to say on the subject of their sorrows. He gave her a better reception than he had done to the others, entertaining her with an account of the fine qualities of his dear dead lady, while she waxed eloquent on those of her beloved husband. Thereupon she redoubled her cries, and the king following her example, began to wail aloud. She said that, unlike the others, she had come with the object of adding to, rather than of lessening, his grief for what could be more natural than to sorrow for a good wife? As for her, she had had the best husband in the whole world, and it was her part now to weep for him while she had eyes in her head. In fact he hardly heard what they said.Īt last there came before him a woman clad all in black crape, with veil and mantle and long mourning garments, who wept and sobbed so loud and so violently that he was filled with astonishment. Some of them made up grave and serious speeches others again went with cheerful, even gay words on their tongues, but none of them made any impression on him. All his subjects planned amongst themselves to go and see him, and to say everything they could think of as likely to comfort him in his sorrow. They feared lest he should kill himself, and they therefore put mattresses between the tapestry and the wall, so that however hard he might strike his head, he could do himself no harm. When his wife died he was inconsolable, and for eight whole days he shut himself up in a little room, and knocked his head against the wall, so desperate was he. There was once upon a time a king who was very rich in lands and money.
We would encourage parents to read beforehand if your child is sensitive to such themes.
This is a vintage fairy tale, and contains violence.
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