heiress to twenty thousand thrones I would despise her and scorn her. But
why speak of thrones? I have lost mine. I am too weak to recover it—I am
alone, and have no friend.”
“Oh, say not so, dear Prince!” says Gruffanuff.
“Besides,” says he, “I am so happy here _behind the throne_ that I would
not change my place, no, not for the throne of the world!”
“What are you two people chattering about there?” says the Queen, who
was rather good-natured, though not overburthened with wisdom. “It is
time to dress for dinner. Giglio, show Prince Bulbo to his room. Prince,
if your clothes have not come, we shall be very happy to see you as
you are.” But when Prince Bulbo got to his bedroom, his luggage was
there and unpacked; and the hairdresser coming in, cut and curled him
entirely to his own satisfaction; and when the dinner-bell rang, the
royal company had not to wait above five-and-twenty minutes until Bulbo
appeared, during which time the King, who could not bear to wait, grew
as sulky as possible. As for Giglio, he never left Madam Gruffanuff all
this time, but stood with her in the embrasure of a window, paying her
compliments. At length the Groom of the Chambers announced His Royal
Highness the Prince of Crim Tartary! and the noble company went into the
royal dining-room. It was quite a small party; only the King and Queen,
the Princess, whom Bulbo took out, the two Princes, Countess Gruffanuff,
Glumboso the Prime Minister, and Prince Bulbo’s chamberlain. You may be
sure they had a very good dinner—let every boy and girl think of what he
or she likes best, and fancy it on the table.
The Princess talked incessantly all dinner-time to the Prince of Crimea,
who ate an immense deal too much, and never took his eyes off his plate,
except when Giglio, who was carving a goose, sent a quantity of stuffing
and onion sauce into one of them. Giglio only burst out a-laughing as
the Crimean Prince wiped his shirt-front and face with his scented
pocket-handkerchief. He did not make Prince Bulbo any apology. When
the Prince looked at him, Giglio would not look that way. When Prince
Bulbo said, “Prince Giglio, may I have the honor of taking a glass of
wine with you?” Giglio _wouldn’t_ answer. All his talk and his eyes were
for Countess Gruffanuff, who you may be sure was pleased with Giglio’s
attentions—the vain old creature! When he was not complimenting her,
he was making fun of Prince Bulbo, so loud that Gruffanuff was always
tapping him with her fan, and saying—“Oh, you satirical Prince! Oh, fie,
the Prince will hear!” “Well, I don’t mind,” says Giglio, louder still.
The King and Queen luckily did not hear; for Her Majesty was a little
deaf, and the King thought so much about his own dinner, and, besides,
made such a dreadful noise, hobgobbling in eating it, that he heard
nothing else. After dinner, His Majesty and the Queen went to sleep in
their arm-chairs.
This was the time when Giglio began his tricks with Prince Bulbo, plying
that young gentleman with port, sherry, madeira, champagne, marsala,
cherry-brandy, and pale ale, of all of which Master Bulbo drank without
stint. But in plying his guest, Giglio was obliged to drink himself, and,
I am sorry to say, took more than was good for him, so that the young
men were very noisy, rude, and foolish when they joined the ladies after
dinner; and dearly did they pay for that imprudence, as now, my darlings,
you shall hear!
Bulbo went and sat by the piano, where Angelica was playing and singing,
and he sang out of tune, and he upset the coffee when the footman
brought it, and he laughed out of place, and talked absurdly, and fell
asleep and snored horridly. Booh, the nasty pig! But as he lay there
stretched on the pink satin sofa, Angelica still persisted in thinking
him the most beautiful of human beings. No doubt the magic rose which
Bulbo wore caused this infatuation on Angelica’s part; but is she the
first young woman who has thought a silly fellow charming?
Giglio must go and sit by Gruffanuff, whose old face he too every moment
began to find more lovely. He paid the most outrageous compliments to
her:—There never was such a darling—Older than he was?—Fiddle-de-dee! He
would marry her—he would have nothing but her!
To marry the heir to the throne! Here was a chance! The artful hussy
actually got a sheet of paper, and wrote upon it, “This is to give notice
that I, Giglio, only son of Savio, King of Paflagonia, hereby promise to
marry the charming and virtuous Barbara Griselda, Countess Gruffanuff,
and widow of the late Jenkins Gruffanuff, Esq.”
“What is it you are writing, you charming Gruffy?” says Giglio, who was
lolling on the sofa, by the writing-table.
“Only an order for you to sign, dear Prince, for giving coals and
blankets to the poor, this cold weather. Look! the King and Queen are
both asleep, and your Royal Highness’s order will do.”
So Giglio, who was very good-natured, as Gruffy well knew, signed the
order immediately; and, when she had it in her pocket, you may fancy what
airs she gave herself. She was ready to flounce out of the room before
the Queen herself, as now she was the wife of the _rightful_ King of
Paflagonia! She would not speak to Glumboso, whom she thought a brute,
for depriving her _dear husband_ of the crown! And when candles came, and
she had helped to undress the Queen and Princess, she went into her own
room, and actually practised on a sheet of paper, “Griselda Paflagonia,”
“Barbara Regina,” “Griselda Barbara, Paf. Reg.,” and I don’t know what
signatures besides, against the day when she should be Queen, forsooth!
IX
HOW BETSINDA GOT THE WARMING-PAN
Little Betsinda came in to put Gruffanuff’s hair in papers; and the
Countess was so pleased, that, for a wonder, she complimented Betsinda.
“Betsinda!” she said, “you dressed my hair very nicely to-day; I promised
you a little present. Here are five sh—no, here is a pretty little ring,
that I picked—that I have had some time.” And she gave Betsinda the ring
she had picked up in the court. It fitted Betsinda exactly.
“It’s like the ring the Princess used to wear,” says the maid.
“No such thing,” says Gruffanuff, “I have had it this ever so long.
There, tuck me up quite comfortable; and now, as it’s a very cold night
(the snow was beating in at the window), you may go and warm dear Prince
Giglio’s bed, like a good girl, and then you may unrip my green silk,
and then you can just do me up a little cap for the morning, and then
you can mend that hole in my silk stocking, and then you can go to bed,
Betsinda. Mind I shall want my cup of tea at five o’clock in the morning.”
“I suppose I had best warm both the young gentlemen’s beds, ma’am,” says
Betsinda.
Gruffanuff, for reply, said, “Hau-au-ho!—Grau-haw-hoo!-Hong-hrho!” In
fact, she was snoring sound asleep.
Her room, you know, is next to the King and Queen, and the Princess is
next to them. So pretty Betsinda went away for the coals to the kitchen,
and filled the royal warming-pan.
Now, she was a very kind, merry, civil, pretty girl; but there must have
been something very captivating about her this evening, for all the women
in the servants’ hall began to scold and abuse her. The housekeeper said
she was a pert, stuck-up thing: the upper-housemaid asked how dare she
wear such ringlets and ribbons, it was quite improper! The cook (for
there was a woman-cook as well as a man-cook) said to the kitchen-maid
that _she_ never could see anything in that creetur: but as for the men,
every one of them, Coachman, John, Buttons the page, and Monsieur, the
Prince of Crim Tartary’s valet, started up, and said:
“My eyes!” }
“O mussey!” } What a pretty girl Betsinda is!”
“O jemmany!” }
“O ciel!” }
“Hands off; none of your impertinence, you vulgar, low people!” says
Betsinda, walking off with her pan of coals. She heard the young
gentlemen playing at billiards as she went upstairs: first to Prince
Giglio’s bed, which she warmed, and then to Prince Bulbo’s room.
He came in just as she had done; and as soon as he saw her, “O! O! O! O!
O! O! what a beyou—oo—ootiful creature you are! You angel—you peri—you
rosebud, let me be thy bulbul—thy Bulbo, too! Fly to the desert, fly with
me! I never saw a young gazelle to glad me with its dark blue eye that
had eyes like thine. Thou nymph of beauty, take, take this young heart.
A truer never did itself sustain within a soldier’s waistcoat. Be mine!
Be mine! Be Princess of Crim Tartary! My Royal father will approve our
union; and, as for that little carroty-haired Angelica, I do not care a
fig for her any more.”
“Go away, your Royal Highness, and go to bed, please,” said Betsinda,
with the warming-pan.
But Bulbo said, “No, never, till thou swearest to be mine, thou lovely,
blushing, chambermaid divine! Here, at thy feet, the Royal Bulbo lies,
the trembling captive of Betsinda’s eyes.”
And he went on, making himself so _absurd and ridiculous_, that Betsinda,
who was full of fun, gave him a touch with the warming-pan, which, I
promise you, made him cry “O-o-o-o!” in a very different manner.
Prince Bulbo made such a noise that Prince Giglio, who heard him from the
next room, came in to see what was the matter. As soon as he saw what
was taking place, Giglio, in a fury, rushed on Bulbo, kicked him in the
rudest manner up to the ceiling, and went on kicking him till his hair
was quite out of curl.
[Illustration]
Poor Betsinda did not know whether to laugh or to cry; and kicking
certainly must hurt the Prince, but then he looked so droll! When Giglio
had done knocking him up and down to the ground, and whilst he went into
a corner rubbing himself, what do you think Giglio does? He goes down on
his own knees to Betsinda, takes her hand, begs her to accept his heart,
and offers to marry her that moment.
Fancy Betsinda’s condition, who had been in love with the Prince ever
since she first saw him in the palace garden, when she was quite a little
child.
“Oh, divine Betsinda!” says the Prince, “how have I lived fifteen
years in thy company without seeing thy perfections? What woman in all
Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, nay, in Australia, only it is not yet
discovered, can presume to be thy equal? Angelica? Pish! Gruffanuff?
Phoo! The Queen? Ha, ha! Thou art my Queen. Thou art the real Angelica,
because thou art really angelic.”
“O, Prince! I am but a poor chambermaid,” says Betsinda, looking,
however, very much pleased.
“Didst thou not tend me in my sickness, when all forsook me?” continues
Giglio. “Did not thy gentle hand smooth my pillow, and bring me jelly and
roast chicken?”
“Yes, dear Prince, I did,” says Betsinda, “and I sewed your Royal
Highness’s shirt-buttons on too, if you please, your Royal Highness,”
cries this artless maiden.
When poor Prince Bulbo, who was now madly in love with Betsinda, heard
this declaration, when he saw the unmistakable glances which she flung
upon Giglio, Bulbo began to cry bitterly, and tore quantities of hair out
of his head, till it all covered the room like so much tow.
Betsinda had left the warming-pan on the floor while the Princes were
going on with their conversation, and as they began now to quarrel and be
very fierce with one another, she thought proper to run away.
“You great big blubbering booby, tearing your hair in the corner there;
of course you will give me satisfaction for insulting Betsinda. You dare
to kneel down at Princess Giglio’s knees and kiss her hand!”
“She’s not Princess Giglio!” roars out Bulbo. “She shall be Princess
Bulbo, no other shall be Princess Bulbo.”
“You are engaged to my cousin!” bellows out Giglio.
“I hate your cousin,” says Bulbo.
“You shall give me satisfaction for insulting her!” cries Giglio in a
fury.
“I’ll have your life.”
“I’ll run you through.”
“I’ll cut your throat.”
“I’ll blow your brains out.”
“I’ll knock your head off.”
“I’ll send a friend to you in the morning.”
“I’ll send a bullet into you in the afternoon.”
“We’ll meet again,” says Giglio, shaking his fist in Bulbo’s face; and
seizing up the warming-pan, he kissed it, because, forsooth, Betsinda
had carried it, and rushed downstairs. What should he see on the landing
but His Majesty talking to Betsinda, whom he called by all sorts of fond
names. His Majesty had heard a row in the building, so he stated, and
smelling something burning, had come out to see what the matter was.
“It’s the young gentlemen smoking, perhaps, sir,” says Betsinda.
“Charming chambermaid,” says the King (like all the rest of them), “never
mind the young men! Turn thy eyes on a middle-aged autocrat, who has
been considered not ill-looking in his time.”
“Oh, sir! what will Her Majesty say?” cries Betsinda.
“Her Majesty!” laughs the monarch. “Her Majesty be hanged. Am I not
Autocrat of Paflagonia? Have I not blocks, ropes, axes, hangmen—ha? Runs
not a river by my palace wall? Have I not sacks to sew up wives withal?
Say but the word, that thou wilt be mine own—your mistress straightway in
a sack is sewn, and thou the sharer of my heart and throne.”
When Giglio heard these atrocious sentiments, he forgot the respect
usually paid to Royalty, lifted up the warming-pan, and knocked down the
King as flat as a pancake; after which, Master Giglio took to his heels
and ran away, and Betsinda went off screaming, and the Queen, Gruffanuff,
and the Princess, all came out of their rooms. Fancy their feelings on
beholding their husband, father, sovereign, in this posture!
[Illustration]
X
HOW KING VALOROSO WAS IN A DREADFUL PASSION
[Illustration]
As soon as the coals began to burn him, the King came to himself and
stood up. “Ho! my captain of the guards!” His Majesty exclaimed, stamping
his royal feet with rage. O piteous spectacle! the King’s nose was bent
quite crooked by the blow of Prince Giglio! His Majesty ground his
teeth with rage. “Hedzoff,” he said, taking a death-warrant out of his
dressing-gown pocket, “Hedzoff, good Hedzoff, seize upon the Prince.
Thou’lt find him in his chamber two pair up. But now he dared, with
sacrilegious hand, to strike the sacred night-cap of a king—Hedzoff,
and floor me with a warming-pan! Away, no more demur, the villain dies!
See it be done, or else—h’m—ha!—h’m! mind thine own eyes!” and followed
by the ladies, and lifting up the tails of his dressing-gown, the King
entered his own apartment.
Captain Hedzoff was very much affected, having a sincere love for Giglio.
“Poor, poor Giglio!” he said, the tears rolling over his manly face, and
dripping down his moustachios; “my noble young Prince, is it my hand must
lead thee to death?”
“Lead him to fiddlestick, Hedzoff,” said a female voice. It was
Gruffanuff, who had come out in her dressing-gown when she heard the
noise. “The King said you were to hang the Prince. Well, hang the Prince.”
“I don’t understand you,” says Hedzoff, who was not a very clever man.
“You Gaby! he didn’t say _which_ Prince,” says Gruffanuff.
“No; he didn’t say which, certainly,” said Hedzoff.
“Well, then, take Bulbo, and hang _him_!”
When Captain Hedzoff heard this, he began to dance about for joy.
“Obedience is a soldier’s honor,” says he. “Prince Bulbo’s head will do
capitally,” and he went to arrest the Prince the very first thing next
morning.
[Illustration]
He knocked at the door. “Who’s there?” says Bulbo. “Captain Hedzoff?
Step in, pray, my good Captain; I’m delighted to see you; I have been
expecting you.”
“Have you?” says Hedzoff.
“Sleibootz, my Chamberlain, will act for me,” says the Prince.
“I beg your Royal Highness’s pardon, but you will have to act for
yourself, and it’s a pity to wake Baron Sleibootz.”
The Prince Bulbo still seemed to take the matter very coolly. “Of course,
Captain,” says he, “you are come about that affair with Prince Giglio?”
“Precisely,” says Hedzoff, “that affair of Prince Giglio.”
“Is it to be pistols, or swords, Captain?” asks Bulbo. “I’m a mighty good
hand with both, and I’ll do for Prince Giglio as sure as my name is my
Royal Highness Prince Bulbo.”
“There’s some mistake, my Lord,” says the Captain. “The business is done
with _axes_ among us.”
“Axes? That’s sharp work,” says Bulbo. “Call my Chamberlain, he’ll he my
second, and in ten minutes, I flatter myself, you’ll see Master Giglio’s
head off his impertinent shoulders. I’m hungry for his blood. Hoo-oo,
aw!” and he looked as savage as an ogre.
“I beg your pardon, sir, but by this warrant I am to take you prisoner,
and hand you over to—to the executioner.”
“Pooh, pooh, my good man!—Stop, I say—ho!—hulloa!” was all that this
luckless Prince was enabled to say, for Hedzoff’s guards seizing him,
tied a handkerchief over his mouth and face, and carried him to the place
of execution.
The King, who happened to be talking to Glumboso, saw him pass, and
took a pinch of snuff and said, “So much for Giglio. Now let’s go to
breakfast.”
The Captain of the Guard handed over his prisoner to the Sheriff, with
the fatal order,
“AT SIGHT CUT OFF THE BEARER’S HEAD.
“VALOROSO XXIV.”
“It’s a mistake,” says Bulbo, who did not seem to understand the business
in the least.
“Poo—poo—pooh,” says the Sheriff. “Fetch Jack Ketch instantly. Jack
Ketch!”
And poor Bulbo was led to the scaffold, where an executioner with a block
and a tremendous axe was always ready in case he should be wanted.
But we must now revert to Giglio and Betsinda.
XI
WHAT GRUFFANUFF DID TO GIGLIO AND BETSINDA
Gruffanuff, who had seen what had happened with the King, and knew that
Giglio must come to grief, got up very early the next morning, and went
to devise some plans for rescuing her darling husband, as the silly old
thing insisted on calling him. She found him walking up and down the
garden, thinking of a rhyme for Betsinda (_tinder_ and _winda_ were all
he could find), and indeed having forgotten all about the past evening,
except that Betsinda was the most lovely of beings.
“Well, dear Giglio,” says Gruff.
“Well, dear Gruffy,” says Giglio, only _he_ was quite satirical.
“I have been thinking, darling, what you must do in this scrape. You must
fly the country for a while.”
“What scrape?—fly the country? Never without her I love, Countess,” says
Giglio.
“No, she will accompany you, dear Prince,” she says, in her most coaxing
accents. “First, we must get the jewels belonging to our royal parents,
and those of her and his present Majesty. Here is the key, duck; they
are all yours, you know, by right, for you are the rightful King of
Paflagonia, and your wife will be the rightful Queen.”
“Will she?” says Giglio.
“Yes; and having got the jewels, go to Glumboso’s apartment, where,
under his bed, you will find sacks containing money to the amount of
£217,000,000,987,439 13s. 6½d., all belonging to you, for he took it out
of your royal father’s room on the day of his death. With this we will
fly.”
“_We_ will fly?” says Giglio.
“Yes, you and your bride—your affianced love—your Gruffy!” says the
Countess, with a languishing leer.
“_You_ my bride!” says Giglio. “You, you hideous old woman!”
“Oh, you—you wretch! didn’t you give me this paper promising marriage?”
cries Gruff.
“Get away, you old goose! I love Betsinda, and Betsinda only!” And in a
fit of terror he ran from her as quickly as he could.
“He! he! he!” shrieks out Gruff; “a promise is a promise if there are
laws in Paflagonia! And as for that monster, that wretch, that fiend,
that ugly little vixen—as for that upstart, that ingrate, that beast,
Betsinda, Master Giglio will have no little difficulty in discovering her
whereabouts. He may look very long before finding _her_, I warrant. He
little knows that Miss Betsinda is—”
Is—what? Now, you shall hear. Poor Betsinda got up at five in winter’s
morning to bring her cruel mistress her tea; and instead of finding her
in a good humor, found Gruffy as cross as two sticks. The Countess boxed
Betsinda’s ears half a dozen times whilst she was dressing; but as poor
little Betsinda was used to this kind of treatment, she did not feel any
special alarm. “And now,” says she, “when Her Majesty rings her bell
twice, I’ll trouble you, miss, to attend.”
So when the Queen’s bell rang twice, Betsinda came to Her Majesty and
made a pretty little curtsey. The Queen, the Princess, and Gruffanuff
were all three in the room. As soon as they saw her they began.
“You wretch!” says the Queen.
“You little vulgar thing!” says the Princess.
“You beast!” says Gruffanuff.
“Get out of my sight!” says the Queen.
“Go away with you, do!” says the Princess.
“Quit the premises!” says Gruffanuff.
Alas! and woe is me! very lamentable events had occurred to Betsinda that
morning, and all in consequence of that fatal warming-pan business of the
previous night. The King had offered to marry her; of course Her Majesty
the Queen was jealous; Bulbo had fallen in love with her; of course
Angelica was furious: Giglio was in love with her, and oh, what a fury
Gruffy was in!
{ cap }
“Take off that { petticoat } I gave you,” they
{ gown } said, all at once,
and began tearing the clothes off poor Betsinda.
“How dare { the King?” } cried the Queen,
you flirt { Prince Bulbo?” } the Princess,
with { Prince Giglio?” } and Countess.
“Give her the rags she wore when she came into the house and turn her
out of it!” cries the Queen. “Mind she does not go with _my_ shoes on,
which I lent her so kindly,” says the Princess; and indeed the Princess’s
shoes were a great deal too big for Betsinda.
“Come with me, you filthy hussy!” and taking up the Queen’s poker, the
cruel Gruffanuff drove Betsinda into her room.
The Countess went to the glass box in which she had kept Betsinda’s old
cloak and shoe this ever so long, and said, “Take those rags, you little
beggar creature, and strip off everything belonging to honest people,
and go about your business”; and she actually tore off the poor little
delicate thing’s back almost all her things, and told her to be off out
of the house.
Poor Betsinda huddled the cloak round her back, on which were embroidered
the letters PRIN… ROSAL… and then came a great rent.
As for the shoe, what was she to do with one poor little tootsey sandal?
the string was still to it, so she hung it round her neck.
“Won’t you give me a pair of shoes to go out in the snow, mum, if you
please, mum?” cried the poor child.
“No, you wicked beast!” says Gruffanuff, driving her along with the
poker—driving her down the cold stairs—driving her through the cold
hall—flinging her out into the cold street, so that the knocker itself
shed tears to see her!
But a kind fairy made the soft snow warm for her little feet, and she
wrapped herself up in the ermine of her mantle, and was gone!
“And now let us think about breakfast,” says the greedy Queen.
“What dress shall I put on, mamma? the pink or the pea-green?” says
Angelica. “Which do you think the dear Prince will like best?”
“Mrs. V.!” sings out the King from his dressing-room, “let us have
sausages for breakfast! Remember we have Prince Bulbo staying with us!”
And they all went to get ready.
Nine o’clock came, and they were all in the breakfast-room, and no
Prince Bulbo as yet. The urn was hissing and humming: the muffins were
smoking—such a heap of muffins! the eggs were done, there was a pot of
raspberry jam, and coffee, and a beautiful chicken and tongue on the
side-table. Marmitonio the cook brought in the sausages. Oh, how nice
they smelt!
“Where is Bulbo?” said the King. “John, where is His Royal Highness?”
John said he had a took hup His Roilighnessesses shaving-water, and
his clothes and things, and he wasn’t in his room, which he sposed His
Royliness was just stepped hout.
“Stepped out before breakfast in the snow! Impossible!” says the King,
sticking his fork into a sausage. “My dear, take one. Angelica, won’t you
have a saveloy?”
The Princess took one, being very fond of them; and at this moment
Glumboso entered with Captain Hedzoff, both looking very much disturbed.
“I am afraid your Majesty—” cries Glumboso.
“No business before breakfast, Glum!” says the King. “Breakfast first,
business next. Mrs. V., some more sugar!”
“Sire, I am afraid if we wait till after breakfast it will be too late,”
says Glumboso. “He—he—he’ll be hanged at half-past nine.”
“Don’t talk about hanging and spoil my breakfast, you unkind vulgar man
you,” cries the Princess. “John, some mustard. Pray who is to be hanged?”
“Sire, it is the Prince,” whispers Glumboso to the King.