THE KING'S KITCHEN.
Back to the cellar Curdie and Lina sped with their booty, where, seated
on the steps, Curdie lighted his bit of candle for a moment. A very
little bit it was now, but they did not waste much of it in examination
of the pie; that they effected by a more summary process. Curdie thought
it the nicest food he had ever tasted, and between them they soon ate it
up. Then Curdie would have thrown the dish along with the bones into the
water, that there might be no traces of them; but he thought of his
mother, and hid it instead; and the very next minute they wanted it to
draw some wine into. He was careful it should be from the cask of which
he had seen the butler drink. Then they sat down again upon the steps,
and waited until the house should be quiet. For he was there to do
something, and if it did not come to him in the cellar, he must go to
meet it in other places. Therefore, lest he should fall asleep, he set
the end of the helve of his mattock on the ground, and seated himself on
the cross part, leaning against the wall, so that as long as he kept
awake he should rest, but the moment he began to fall asleep he must
fall awake instead. He quite expected some of the servants would visit
the cellar again that night, but whether it was that they were afraid of
each other, or believed more of the butler's story than they had chosen
to allow, not one of them appeared.
When at length he thought he might venture, he shouldered his mattock
and crept up the stair. The lamp was out in the passage, but he could
not miss his way to the servants' hall. Trusting to Lina's quickness in
concealing herself, he took her with him.
When they reached the hall they found it quiet and nearly dark. The last
of the great fire was glowing red, but giving little light. Curdie stood
and warmed himself for a few moments: miner as he was, he had found the
cellar cold to sit in doing nothing; and standing thus he thought of
looking if there were any bits of candle about. There were many
candlesticks on the supper-table, but to his disappointment and
indignation their candles seemed to have been all left to burn out, and
some of them, indeed, he found still hot in the neck.
Presently, one after another, he came upon seven men fast asleep, most
of them upon tables, one in a chair, and one on the floor. They seemed,
from their shape and colour, to have eaten and drunk so much that they
might be burned alive without waking. He grasped the hand of each in
succession, and found two ox-hoofs, three pig-hoofs, one concerning
which he could not be sure whether it was the hoof of a donkey or a
pony, and one dog's paw. "A nice set of people to be about a king!"
thought Curdie to himself, and turned again to his candle hunt. He did
at last find two or three little pieces, and stowed them away in his
pockets.
They now left the hall by another door, and entered a short passage,
which led them to the huge kitchen, vaulted, and black with smoke. There
too the fire was still burning, so that he was able to see a little of
the state of things in this quarter also. The place was dirty and
disorderly. In a recess, on a heap of brushwood, lay a kitchenmaid, with
a table-cover around her, and a skillet in her hand: evidently she too
had been drinking. In another corner lay a page, and Curdie noted how
like his dress was to his own. In the cinders before the hearth were
huddled three dogs and five cats, all fast asleep, while the rats were
running about the floor. Curdie's heart ached to think of the lovely
child-princess living over such a sty. The mine was a paradise to a
palace with such servants in it.
Leaving the kitchen, he got into the region of the sculleries. There
horrible smells were wandering about, like evil spirits that come forth
with the darkness. He lighted a candle--but only to see ugly sights.
Everywhere was filth and disorder. Mangy turn-spit dogs were lying
about, and gray rats were gnawing at refuse in the sinks. It was like a
hideous dream. He felt as if he should never get out of it, and longed
for one glimpse of his mother's poor little kitchen, so clean and bright
and airy. Turning from it at last in miserable disgust, he almost ran
back through the kitchen, re-entered the hall, and crossed it to another
door.
It opened upon a wider passage, leading to an arch in a stately
corridor, all its length lighted by lamps in niches. At the end of it
was a large and beautiful hall, with great pillars. There sat three men
in the royal livery, fast asleep, each in a great arm-chair, with his
feet on a huge footstool. They looked like fools dreaming themselves
kings; and Lina looked as if she longed to throttle them. At one side of
the hall was the grand staircase, and they went up.
Everything that now met Curdie's eyes was rich--not glorious like the
splendours of the mountain cavern, but rich and soft--except where, now
and then, some rough old rib of the ancient fortress came through, hard
and discoloured. Now some dark bare arch of stone, now some rugged and
blackened pillar, now some huge beam, brown with the smoke and dust of
centuries, looked like a thistle in the midst of daisies, or a rock in a
smooth lawn.
They wandered about a good while, again and again finding themselves
where they had been before. Gradually, however, Curdie was gaining some
idea of the place. By-and-by Lina began to look frightened, and as they
went on Curdie saw that she looked more and more frightened. Now, by
this time he had come to understand that what made her look frightened
was always the fear of frightening, and he therefore concluded they must
be drawing nigh to somebody. At last, in a gorgeously-painted gallery,
he saw a curtain of crimson, and on the curtain a royal crown wrought in
silks and stones. He felt sure this must be the king's chamber, and it
was here he was wanted; or, if it was not the place he was bound for,
something would meet him and turn him aside; for he had come to think
that so long as a man wants to do right he may go where he can: when he
can go no further, then it is not the way. "Only," said his father, in
assenting to the theory, "he must really want to do right, and not
merely fancy he does. He must want it with his heart and will, and not
with his rag of a tongue."
So he gently lifted the corner of the curtain, and there behind it was a
half-open door. He entered, and the moment he was in, Lina stretched
herself along the threshold between the curtain and the door.