The Princess and Curdie

The Princess and Curdie
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George MacDonald. The Princess and Curdie

CHAPTER 1. The Mountain

CHAPTER 2. The White Pigeon

CHAPTER 3. The Mistress of the Silver Moon

CHAPTER 4. Curdie's Father and Mother

CHAPTER 5. The Miners

CHAPTER 6. The Emerald

CHAPTER 7. What Is in a Name?

CHAPTER 8. Curdie's Mission

CHAPTER 9. Hands

CHAPTER 10. The Heath

CHAPTER 11. Lina

CHAPTER 12. More Creatures

CHAPTER 13. The Baker's Wife

CHAPTER 14. The Dogs of Gwyntystorm

CHAPTER 15. Derba and Barbara

CHAPTER 16. The Mattock

CHAPTER 17. The Wine Cellar

CHAPTER 18. The King's Kitchen

CHAPTER 19. The King's Chamber

CHAPTER 20. Counterplotting

CHAPTER 21. The Loaf

CHAPTER 22. The Lord Chamberlain

CHAPTER 23. Dr Kelman

CHAPTER 24. The Prophecy

CHAPTER 25. The Avengers

CHAPTER 26. The Vengeance

CHAPTER 27. More Vengeance

CHAPTER 28. The Preacher

CHAPTER 29. Barbara

CHAPTER 30. Peter

CHAPTER 31. The Sacrifice

CHAPTER 32. The King's Army

CHAPTER 33. The Battle

CHAPTER 34. Judgement

CHAPTER 35. The End

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When in the winter they had had their supper and sat 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-up 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, while all the time he saw nothing but a bare garret, a heap of musty straw, a sunbeam, and a withered apple. 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.

.....

'There are a great many more good things than bad things to do. Now tell me what bad thing you have done today besides this sore hurt to my little white friend.'

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 the spinning wheel singing on and on in the middle of it!

.....

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