In a splendid manor house on the outskirts of the town, there lived a gentleman named Reynard. Within this dwelling also resided his twelve-year-old daughters, Mildred and Constance. Their mother had succumbed to the smallpox, and thus the daughters were left alone under their father’s guardianship. Reynard’s affection for his children was beyond measure, yet his passion for painting was greater still. Nevertheless, his heart burned for Legonia with a flame as ardent as that for his beloved art.
Legonia was the daughter of the King, the sovereign ruler of the kingdom wherein Reynard and his daughters dwelled. Princess Legonia possessed long, caramel-brown hair and was widely celebrated throughout the realm for her benevolence towards the populace. In Reynard’s estimation, there was no maiden in all the world who could rival her beauty, and for this very reason, he yearned daily to one day secure her hand in marriage.
Upon a frigid All Hallows Eve’s Night, Reynard resolved to bestow a magnificent gift upon Princess Legonia, in the hope that she would consent to unite herself with him in matrimony. The gift was a painting depicting his two daughters. Reynard brought forth his painting accoutrements and thereupon summoned Mildred and Constance, who were presently engrossed in a game of Primero against one another.
“Seat yourselves upon these wooden trestles,” spoke Reynard. “I implore both of you to sit utterly still, and do not move an inch from the spot until I command it, is that understood?!”
Mildred and Constance nodded and obediently settled themselves upon their respective wooden trestles. Reynard seated himself before his canvas and commenced his labours.
Minutes transmuted into hours, hours into days, days into weeks. Reynard painted and painted, so that the brush seemed to glow, and his heart filled with eager anticipation of the moment he would unveil his masterpiece to Legonia. His daughters, conversely, grew progressively hungrier with each passing day, and the thirst gnawed ever more fiercely at their throats.
But that was not the worst of it; the worst was that Mildred and Constance were compelled to sit in a most, most uncomfortable posture, and every time they stirred, their father would turn crimson with ire.
“Merciful Father, our hunger and thirst are profound. For how long must we sit thus, motionless?” Mildred would occasionally inquire.
“We are both hungry and thirsty,” Constance would occasionally lament.
“SHUT UP AND SIT STILL!!!” Reynard would cry out each time, his voice devoid of either pity or grace.
After two weeks of assiduous labour, the painting was finally complete, and Reynard swelled with pride over his creation. He rose to display the masterpiece to his daughters – but then he beheld a sight that caused his heart to freeze into ice. Upon the wooden floor before him lay Mildred and Constance, their faces chalk-white, their eyes sealed shut. They lived no longer. They had departed this world, and Reynard realised with horror that his beloved daughters were as dead as two maidens could possibly be.
Reynard, afflicted by a monumental grief, instantly ran and fetched the old priest who resided next door to him, and with the priest’s assistance, the girls were accorded a most beautiful funeral.
Reynard felt utterly shattered. But then he recalled the painting that he had only just finished the night before the funeral, and this recollection lifted his spirits somewhat.
Reynard went and retrieved the painting, and thereafter made his way towards the majestic castle wherein Princess Legonia and her father dwelt. He halted the two soldiers who guarded the gate into the castle.
“Gentlemen, I should like to speak with Princess Legonia, if that is permissible,” said Reynard, bowing so deeply that his dark-brown hair threatened to detach from his crown. “I bear with me a most exquisite gift for her.”
Fortunately, the night-watchmen were in good spirits, so they admitted him without any difficulty. When Reynard stepped into the throne room, he was greeted by the King and Legonia.
“Good evening, Your Majesty, I have brought a gift for your wonderful daughter,” said Reynard politely.
Princess Legonia, who adored receiving presents, smiled with her entire face.
“Ah, what a wondrous thing!” exclaimed Legonia. “I receive so many presents that my heart is nigh on overflowing, and I know not where to dispose of them all any longer!”
Reynard approached Legonia and presented the painting.
“Oh, my beloved Legonia, accept this gift, which I have created with my own hands, solely for the delight of your heart,” said Reynard, and kissed Legonia’s hand.
Legonia gazed intently at the beautiful painting. Then she looked at Reynard. And finally, she smiled with her whole rosy face.
“Thank you, thank you so deeply! Never has anyone presented me with a gift so lovely throughout my entire life as a Princess!” Legonia exclaimed in pure delight.
She placed her arms about Reynard’s neck and then spoke in a melodious voice: “Marry me, Reynard, become my Prince! For years I have sought a man whose artistic wisdom knows no bounds, and now my quest seems to be at an end!”
“With all happiness, I shall become your Prince! You are the most beautiful of all girls I have ever met and gazed upon, from the moment I began to tread my artistic path,” exclaimed Reynard, and kissed Legonia upon the mouth.
All the ladies and servants of the court cheered and applauded the loving couple, and the King stood satisfied and proud, for his beloved daughter had finally found a suitor worthy of her heart.
When twilight fell the following evening, a magnificent and enchanting wedding feast was held in honour of Prince Reynard and Princess Legonia, and the entire court assembled in joy and jubilation. The entire realm had received a summons to the wedding, and even the simple peasant folk, whom Princess Legonia usually despised, stepped into the splendour of the celebration.
“Even though I despise these foolish country bumpkins more than anything else beneath this pitch-black sky, might they not be permitted to rejoice and make merry occasionally?” said Princess Legonia with a light smile, even as she waltzed around the hall with Reynard.
Reynard, while indeed delighting in finally having won Princess Legonia’s hand, found his heart heavy with sorrow, and he could have wept himself to death, for his daughters’ demise was his own doing.
“Had my soul not been so utterly attached to my canvas, my girls would still walk amongst the living,” Reynard sobbed tearfully. “Alas, some wounds, I fear, shall never heal, and life demonstrates this to us in the harshest of ways.”
Afterword:
The tale of Reynard and his tragic daughters is heavily inspired by Edgar Allan Poe’s short story, The Oval Portrait. Just as in Poe’s work, where art and life are pitted against each other in a dramatic and sorrowful harmony, this saga explores the theme of artistic obsession and its dreadful price. In The Oval Portrait, the vitality of life is sacrificed for the beauty of the artwork, an idea which I wished to deepen and interpret in my own manner, through a father’s affection, his daughters, and his unattainable passion for both art and the heart. In this saga, beauty, ambition, and tragedy converge, reminding us that even the most dazzling works of art may carry the burden of pain and loss beneath their surface.296Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPubFwO8AJe
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