The Nutcracker and the Mouse Queen

Chapter 6: The Illness

Marlon awoke from a deathlike sleep to find himself in his own bed. The sun was shining through the window, making the frost on the panes sparkle and shimmer.

Sitting nearby was a stranger - no, Dr. Wendelstern, the surgeon. "He's awake now," she said in a soft voice.

His father came over and looked at with frightened, searching eyes.

"Oh Papa, dear, are all the mice gone? Is good Nutcracker safe?"

"Don't talk about nonsense like that, Marlon. What do mice have to do with the Nutcracker? You've been a very naughty child and worried us very much. That's what happens when a child is willful and doesn't do as his parents tell him. You played with your dolls until you became sleepy, and it may be that a mouse - which I find unlikely - jumped out and frightened you, and you fell back and pushed your arm through the glass. Dr. Wendelstern, who removed the glass from your arm, says if you'd cut an artery you might have been left with a stiff arm - or bled to death. Thank God I woke up after midnight and noticed you weren't in your bed. I went into the living room and found you passed out in front of the toy cabinet, bleeding heavily. I almost fainted from shock myself, and then I saw Félicie's soldiers, a lot of other dolls, and broken banners, gingerbread men, and not far away, your left shoe."

"Oh, Papa Papa!" Marlon interrupted, "don't you see - that's what was left of the battle between the dolls and the mice. The mice wanted to take the Nutcracker and I got scared, so I threw my shoe at them - and after that, I don't know what happened."

Dr. Wendelstern glanced at Mr. Stahlbaum, then said to Marlon very gently: "There's no need to worry, my dear child. The mice are all gone and Nutcracker is safe in the toy cabinet."

Then the physician (that is, Marlon's mother) came in and spoke with Dr. Wendelstern for a considerable length of time. She took Marlon's pulse, and he heard mention of wound fever. He had to stay in bed and take some medicine for a few days, though aside from the pain in his arm he didn't really feel ill or uncomfortable.

He now knew that Nutcracker had escaped the battle safe and sound. Occasionally, she would hear as if in a dream the Nutcracker's voice, distinct yet weak. " Marlon, dear lord, I already owe you so much, but there is more you could do for me!"

Marlon tried to think of what it could possibly be, but she could think of nothing.

He could not play with his toys because of the pain in his arm, and the illustrations in the picture books swam before his eyes until he had to give up on them. And so time seemed to draw on forever. He could hardly wait for evening, because then his father would come and read him all sorts of beautiful stories.

One evening, her father had just finished the story of Princess Fabrette when the door opened and Godmother Drosselmeier stepped into the room. "Now I must see for myself how the sick and injured Marlon is doing," he said.

As soon as Marlon saw his yellow coat, the image of the Nutcracker losing the battle against the mice came back into her mind. Automatically she said: "Oh, Godfather Drosselmeier, you were so ugly! I saw you up there on the clock, covering it with your wings so it couldn't strike and scare away the mice. I even heard you call the Mouse Queen! Why didn't you help the Nutcracker or me, you ugly Godmother Drosselmeier? It's your fault that I'm hurt and sick and stuck in bed, isn't it?"

Malon's father, shocked, asked, "what is wrong with you, Marlon?"

However, Godmother Drosselmeier made an odd face and said in a rasping, monotonous voice:

The pendulum had to purr and pick
It could not strike, nor could it tick
But now the bells sound loud and strong
Dong and ding, ding and dong
Doll boy, don't be afraid
The queen of mice has gone away
The owl returns now swift and quick
Pick and peck, peck and pick
Bells ring, dong and ding
Clocks whirr, purr and purr
Pendulums must also purr
Clink and clank, whirr and purr

Marlon stared wide-eyed at Godmother Drosselmeier. The judge looked somehow uglier than usual, and her right arm was moving back and forth as if she were manipulating a marionette. Marlon would have been very frightened had it not been for his father's presence, and for the fact that Félicie (who had quietly crept in) suddenly burst out in loud laughter.

"Oh, Godmother Drosselmeier, you're too funny today," Félicie said. "You're just like the jumping jack I threw behind the stove awhile back."

But their father had a serious expression on his face and said, "Dear Mrs. Drosselmeier, what odd entertainment. What is it all about?"

"Heavens!" the judge responded with laughter. "Don't you know about my watchmaker's ditty? I always sing it to patients like Marlon." She quickly sat close beside Marlon's bed and said, "Don't be angry at me for not putting out all fourteen of the Mouse Queen's eyes, but I've got something for you that I think will make you really happy." With those words, she reached into her pocket and swiftly pulled out the Nutcracker. Her missing mouth had all been set firmly back in and her wobbly jaw was set straight again.

Marlon shouted with joy, and his father said, "See how well Godmother Drosselmeier thinks of Nutcracker?"

"You still have to admit, Marlon," Drosselmeier interrupted, "she's quite ugly. I'll tell you how such ugliness came into her family, if you want to listen. Or maybe you already know the story of Prince Pierpont the warlock Mouserinks, and the clockmaker?"

"Wait a minute," Félicie said suddenly, "you've fixed the Nutcracker's teeth and jaw, but he's got no sword - why's he missing a sword?"

"Oh!" Drosselmeier responded indignantly, "you have to complain about everything, girl! Why should I find her a sword? I've fixed her body; it's up to her to get a sword if she wants one."

"That's true," Félicie said. "If he's any good, she'll know where to find her weapons."

The judge turned again to Marlon. "So, Marlon, do tell me - do you know the story of Prince Pierpont?"

"Oh, no," Marlon said. "Do tell, dear godmother - do tell!"

"I hope, dear Mrs. Drosselmeier, that your story won't be as horrible as the ones you usually tell," her mother said.

"Not at all, dear lord," Drosselmeier replied. "On the contrary, the story which I have the honor of telling is a fairytale."

"Tell us the story, dear godmother!" the children begged, and so he began.