Chapter I: Front Matter

THE LAUGHTER OF PETERKIN

_Frontis._]
]

THE LAUGHTER OF PETERKIN.

“A RETELLING OF OLD TALES OF
THE CELTIC WONDERWORLD.” by

⋅ FIONA MACLEOD ⋅

⋅DRAWINGS⋯BY⋯SUNDERLAND⋯ROLLINSON⋅§⋅

⋅LONDON⋅
⋅ARCHIBALD⋅CONSTABLE⋅&⋅CO⋅
⋅1897⋅

TO
ISLA,
EILIDH,
FIONA,
AND
IVOR

CONTENTS

PAGE
_PROLOGUE._ THE LAUGHTER OF PETERKIN 9

THE FOUR WHITE SWANS 33

THE FATE OF THE SONS OF TURENN 117

DARTHOOL AND THE SONS OF USNA 177

_NOTES_ 281

ILLUSTRATIONS

BY SUNDERLAND ROLLINSON

THE KING SAW A FOUNTAIN OF EXCEEDING
BEAUTY _Frontispiece_

AS SHE TOUCHED FIONULA, LIR’S FAIR YOUNG
DAUGHTER BECAME A BEAUTIFUL SNOW-WHITE
SWAN _To face page_ 33

TURENN INTERCEDING FOR HIS SONS " 117

A GREAT RAVEN, GLOSSY BLACK, AND BURNISHED
IN THE SUN RAYS _To face page_ 177

The Laughter of Peterkin

The Laughter of Peterkin

At the rising of the moon, Peterkin awoke, and laughed. He was in his little white bed near the open window, so that when a moonbeam wavered from amid the branches of the great poplar, falling suddenly upon his tangled curls and yellowing them with a ripple of pale gold, it was as though a living thing stole in out of the June night.

He had not awaked at first. The moonbeam seemed caught in a tangle: then it glanced along a crescent tress on the pillow: sprang back like a startled bird: flickered hither and thither above the little sleeping face: and at last played idly on the closed eyelids with their long dark eyelashes. It was then that Peterkin awoke.

When he opened his eyes he sat up, and so the moonbeam fell into the two white cups of his tiny hands. He held it, but like a yellow eel it wriggled away, and danced mockingly upon the counterpane.

With a sleepy smile he turned and looked out of the window. How dark it was out there! That white moth which wavered to and fro made the twilight like a shadowy wall. Then upon this wall Peterkin saw a great fantastic shape. It grew and grew, and spread out huge arms and innumerable little hands: and in its shadow-face it had seven shining eyes. Peterkin stared, awe-struck. Then there was a dance of moonshine, a cascade of trickling, rippling yellow, and he saw that the shape in the night was the familiar poplar, and that its arms were the big boughs and branches where the spotted mavis and the black merle sang each morning, and that the innumerable little hands were the ever-tremulous, ever-dancing, round little leaves, and that the seven glittering eyes were only seven stars that had caught among the topmost twigs.