DR. KELMAN.
As soon as he had reason to hope the way was clear, Curdie ventured
softly into the hall, with Lina behind him. There was no one asleep on
the bench or floor, but by the fading fire sat a girl weeping. It was
the same who had seen him carrying off the food, and had been so hardly
used for saying so. She opened her eyes when he appeared, but did not
seem frightened at him.
"I know why you weep," said Curdie; "and I am sorry for you."
"It _is_ hard not to be believed just _because_ one speaks the truth,"
said the girl, "but that seems reason enough with some people. My mother
taught me to speak the truth, and took such pains with me that I should
find it hard to tell a lie, though I could invent many a story these
servants would believe at once; for the truth is a strange thing here,
and they don't know it when they see it. Show it them, and they all
stare as if it were a wicked lie, and that with the lie yet warm that
has just left their own mouths!--You are a stranger," she said, and
burst out weeping afresh, "but the stranger you are to such a place and
such people the better!"
"I am the person," said Curdie, "whom you saw carrying the things from
the supper-table." He showed her the loaf. "If you can trust, as well as
speak the truth, I will trust you.--Can you trust me?"
She looked at him steadily for a moment.
"I can," she answered.
"One thing more," said Curdie: "have you courage as well as faith?"
"I think so."
"Look my dog in the face and don't cry out.--Come here, Lina."
Lina obeyed. The girl looked at her, and laid her hand on her head.
"Now I know you are a true woman," said Curdie. "--I am come to set
things right in this house. Not one of the servants knows I am here.
Will you tell them to-morrow morning, that, if they do not alter their
ways, and give over drinking, and lying, and stealing, and unkindness,
they shall every one of them be driven from the palace?"
"They will not believe me."
"Most likely; but will you give them the chance?"
"I will."
"Then I will be your friend. Wait here till I come again."
She looked him once more in the face, and sat down.
When he reached the royal chamber, he found his majesty awake, and very
anxiously expecting him. He received him with the utmost kindness, and
at once as it were put himself in his hands by telling him all he knew
concerning the state he was in. His voice was feeble, but his eye was
clear, and although now and then his words and thoughts seemed to
wander, Curdie could not be certain that the cause of their not being
intelligible to him did not lie in himself. The king told him that for
some years, ever since his queen's death, he had been losing heart over
the wickedness of his people. He had tried hard to make them good, but
they got worse and worse. Evil teachers, unknown to him, had crept into
the schools; there was a general decay of truth and right principle at
least in the city; and as that set the example to the nation, it must
spread. The main cause of his illness was the despondency with which the
degeneration of his people affected him. He could not sleep, and had
terrible dreams; while, to his unspeakable shame and distress, he
doubted almost everybody. He had striven against his suspicion, but in
vain, and his heart was sore, for his courtiers and councillors were
really kind; only he could not think why none of their ladies came near
his princess. The whole country was discontented, he heard, and there
were signs of gathering storm outside as well as inside his borders. The
master of the horse gave him sad news of the insubordination of the
army; and his great white horse was dead, they told him; and his sword
had lost its temper: it bent double the last time he tried it!--only
perhaps that was in a dream; and they could not find his shield; and one
of his spurs had lost the rowel. Thus the poor king went wandering in a
maze of sorrows, some of which were purely imaginary, while others were
truer than he understood. He told how thieves came at night and tried to
take his crown, so that he never dared let it out of his hands even when
he slept; and how, every night, an evil demon in the shape of his
physician came and poured poison down his throat. He knew it to be
poison, he said, somehow, although it tasted like wine.
Here he stopped, faint with the unusual exertion of talking. Curdie
seized the flagon, and ran to the wine-cellar.
In the servants' hall the girl still sat by the fire, waiting for him.
As he returned he told her to follow him, and left her at the chamber
door till he should rejoin her.
[Illustration: _Curdie brings wine to the king._]
When the king had had a little wine, he informed him that he had already
discovered certain of his majesty's enemies, and one of the worst of
them was the doctor, for it was no other demon than the doctor himself
who had been coming every night, and giving him a slow poison.
"So!" said the king. "Then I have not been suspicious enough, for I
thought it was but a dream! Is it possible Kelman can be such a wretch?
Who then am I to trust?"
"Not one in the house, except the princess and myself," said Curdie.
"I will not go to sleep," said the king.
"That would be as bad as taking the poison," said Curdie. "No, no, sire;
you must show your confidence by leaving all the watching to me, and
doing all the sleeping your majesty can."
The king smiled a contented smile, turned on his side, and was presently
fast asleep. Then Curdie persuaded the princess also to go to sleep, and
telling Lina to watch, went to the housemaid. He asked her if she could
inform him which of the council slept in the palace, and show him their
rooms. She knew every one of them, she said, and took him the round of
all their doors, telling him which slept in each room. He then dismissed
her, and returning to the king's chamber, seated himself behind a
curtain at the head of the bed, on the side farthest from the king. He
told Lina to get under the bed, and make no noise.
About one o'clock the doctor came stealing in. He looked round for the
princess, and seeing no one, smiled with satisfaction as he approached
the wine where it stood under the lamp. Having partly filled a glass, he
took from his pocket a small phial, and filled up the glass from it. The
light fell upon his face from above, and Curdie saw the snake in it
plainly visible. He had never beheld such an evil countenance: the man
hated the king, and delighted in doing him wrong.
With the glass in his hand, he drew near the bed, set it down, and began
his usual rude rousing of his majesty. Not at once succeeding, he took a
lancet from his pocket, and was parting its cover with an involuntary
hiss of hate between his closed teeth, when Curdie stooped and whispered
to Lina, "Take him by the leg, Lina." She darted noiselessly upon him.
With a face of horrible consternation, he gave his leg one tug to free
it; the next instant Curdie heard the one scrunch with which she crushed
the bone like a stick of celery. He tumbled on the floor with a yell.
"Drag him out, Lina," said Curdie.
Lina took him by the collar, and dragged him out. Her master followed to
direct her, and they left him lying across the lord chamberlain's
door, where he gave another horrible yell, and fainted.
[Illustration: "_Lina darted noiselessly upon him._"]
The king had waked at his first cry, and by the time Curdie re-entered
he had got at his sword where it hung from the centre of the tester, had
drawn it, and was trying to get out of bed. But when Curdie told him all
was well, he lay down again as quietly as a child comforted by his
mother from a troubled dream. Curdie went to the door to watch.
The doctor's yells had roused many, but not one had yet ventured to
appear. Bells were rung violently, but none were answered; and in a
minute or two Curdie had what he was watching for. The door of the lord
chamberlain's room opened, and, pale with hideous terror, his lordship
peeped out. Seeing no one, he advanced to step into the corridor, and
tumbled over the doctor. Curdie ran up, and held out his hand. He
received in it the claw of a bird of prey--vulture or eagle, he could
not tell which.
His lordship, as soon as he was on his legs, taking him for one of the
pages, abused him heartily for not coming sooner, and threatened him
with dismissal from the king's service for cowardice and neglect. He
began indeed what bade fair to be a sermon on the duties of a page, but
catching sight of the man who lay at his door, and seeing it was the
doctor, he fell out upon Curdie afresh for standing there doing
nothing, and ordered him to fetch immediate assistance. Curdie left him,
but slipped into the king's chamber, closed and locked the door, and
left the rascals to look after each other. Ere long he heard hurrying
footsteps, and for a few minutes there was a great muffled tumult of
scuffling feet, low voices, and deep groanings; then all was still
again.
Irene slept through the whole--so confidently did she rest, knowing
Curdie was in her father's room watching over him.