THE LOAF.
His majesty slept very quietly. The dawn had grown almost day, and still
Curdie lingered, unwilling to disturb the princess.
At last, however, he called her, and she was in the room in a moment.
She had slept, she said, and felt quite fresh. Delighted to find her
father still asleep, and so peacefully, she pushed her chair close to
the bed, and sat down with her hands in her lap.
Curdie got his mattock from where he had hidden it behind a great
mirror, and went to the cellar, followed by Lina. They took some
breakfast with them as they passed through the hall, and as soon as they
had eaten it went out the back way.
At the mouth of the passage Curdie seized the rope, drew himself up,
pushed away the shutter, and entered the dungeon. Then he swung the end
of the rope to Lina, and she caught it in her teeth. When her master
said, "Now, Lina!" she gave a great spring, and he ran away with the end
of the rope as fast as ever he could. And such a spring had she made,
that by the time he had to bear her weight she was within a few feet of
the hole. The instant she got a paw through, she was all through.
Apparently their enemies were waiting till hunger should have cowed
them, for there was no sign of any attempt having been made to open the
door. A blow or two of Curdie's mattock drove the shattered lock clean
from it, and telling Lina to wait there till he came back, and let no
one in, he walked out into the silent street, and drew the door to
behind him. He could hardly believe it was not yet a whole day since he
had been thrown in there with his hands tied at his back.
Down the town he went, walking in the middle of the street, that, if any
one saw him, he might see he was not afraid, and hesitate to rouse an
attack on him. As to the dogs, ever since the death of their two
companions, a shadow that looked like a mattock was enough to make them
scamper. As soon as he reached the archway of the city gate he turned to
reconnoitre the baker's shop, and perceiving no sign of movement, waited
there watching for the first.
After about an hour, the door opened, and the baker's man appeared with
a pail in his hand. He went to a pump that stood in the street, and
having filled his pail returned with it into the shop. Curdie stole
after him, found the door on the latch, opened it very gently, peeped
in, saw nobody, and entered. Remembering perfectly from what shelf the
baker's wife had taken the loaf she said was the best, and seeing just
one upon it, he seized it, laid the price of it on the counter, and sped
softly out, and up the street. Once more in the dungeon beside Lina, his
first thought was to fasten up the door again, which would have been
easy, so many iron fragments of all sorts and sizes lay about; but he
bethought himself that if he left it as it was, and they came to find
him, they would conclude at once that they had made their escape by it,
and would look no farther so as to discover the hole. He therefore
merely pushed the door close and left it. Then once more carefully
arranging the earth behind the shutter, so that it should again fall
with it, he returned to the cellar.
And now he had to convey the loaf to the princess. If he could venture
to take it himself, well; if not, he would send Lina. He crept to the
door of the servants' hall, and found the sleepers beginning to stir.
One said it was time to go to bed; another, that he would go to the
cellar instead, and have a mug of wine to waken him up; while a third
challenged a fourth to give him his revenge at some game or other.
"Oh, hang your losses!" answered his companion; "you'll soon pick up
twice as much about the house, if you but keep your eyes open."
Perceiving there would be risk in attempting to pass through, and
reflecting that the porters in the great hall would probably be awake
also, Curdie went back to the cellar, took Irene's handkerchief with the
loaf in it, tied it round Lina's neck, and told her to take it to the
princess.
Using every shadow and every shelter, Lina slid through the servants
like a shapeless terror through a guilty mind, and so, by corridor and
great hall, up the stair to the king's chamber.
Irene trembled a little when she saw her glide soundless in across the
silent dusk of the morning, that filtered through the heavy drapery of
the windows, but she recovered herself at once when she saw the bundle
about her neck, for it both assured her of Curdie's safety, and gave her
hope of her father's. She untied it with joy, and Lina stole away,
silent as she had come. Her joy was the greater that the king had woke
up a little while before, and expressed a desire for food--not that he
felt exactly hungry, he said, and yet he wanted something. If only he
might have a piece of nice fresh bread! Irene had no knife, but with
eager hands she broke a great piece from the loaf, and poured out a full
glass of wine. The king ate and drank, enjoyed the bread and the wine
much, and instantly fell asleep again.
It was hours before the lazy people brought their breakfast. When it
came, Irene crumbled a little about, threw some into the fire-place, and
managed to make the tray look just as usual.
In the meantime, down below in the cellar, Curdie was lying in the
hollow between the upper sides of two of the great casks, the warmest
place he could find. Lina was watching. She lay at his feet, across the
two casks, and did her best so to arrange her huge tail that it should
be a warm coverlid for her master.
By-and-by Dr. Kelman called to see his patient; and now that Irene's
eyes were opened, she saw clearly enough that he was both annoyed and
puzzled at finding his majesty rather better. He pretended however to
congratulate him, saying he believed he was quite fit to see the lord
chamberlain: he wanted his signature to something important; only he
must not strain his mind to understand it, whatever it might be: if his
majesty did, he would not be answerable for the consequences. The king
said he would see the lord chamberlain, and the doctor went. Then Irene
gave him more bread and wine, and the king ate and drank, and smiled a
feeble smile, the first real one she had seen for many a day. He said he
felt much better, and would soon be able to take matters into his own
hands again. He had a strange miserable feeling, he said, that things
were going terribly wrong, although he could not tell how. Then the
princess told him that Curdie was come, and that at night, when all was
quiet, for nobody in the palace must know, he would pay his majesty a
visit. Her great-great-grandmother had sent him, she said. The king
looked strangely upon her, but, the strange look passed into a smile
clearer than the first, and Irene's heart throbbed with delight.