HE understood all this, and burst out laughing, which nearly frightened
an old lady near him out of her wits. Ah! how he wished he was only in
evening dress, that he might dance with the charming young lady. But
there he was, dressed just as if he were going out to hunt, if anyone
could have seen him. So, even if he took off his cap of darkness, and
became visible, he was no figure for a ball. Once he would not have
cared, but now he cared very much indeed.
But the prince was not clever for nothing. He thought for a moment, then
went out of the room, and, in three steps of the seven-league boots, was
at his empty, dark, cold palace again. He struck a light with a flint
and steel, lit a torch, and ran upstairs to the garret. The flaring
light of the torch fell on the pile of “rubbish,” as the queen would
have called it, which he turned over with eager hands. Was there--yes,
there _was_ another cap! There it lay, a handsome green one with a red
feather.
The prince pulled off the cap of darkness, put on the other, and said:
“_I wish I were dressed in my best suit of white and gold, with the
royal Pantouflia diamonds!_”
In one moment there he was in white and gold, the greatest and most
magnificent dandy in the whole world, and the handsomest man!
“How about my boots, I wonder,” said the prince; for his seven-league
boots were stout riding-boots, not good to dance in, whereas _now_ he
was in elegant shoes of silk and gold.
He threw down the wishing cap, put on the other--the cap of
darkness--and made three strides in the direction of Gluckstein. But he
was only three steps nearer it than he had been, and the seven-league
boots were standing beside him on the floor!
“No,” said the prince; “no man can be in two different pairs of boots at
one and the same time! That’s mathematics!”
He then hunted about in the lumber-room again till he found a small,
shabby, old Persian carpet, the size of a hearthrug. He went to his own
room, took a portmanteau in his hand, sat down on the carpet, and said:
“I wish I were in Gluckstein.”
In a moment there he found himself; for this was that famous carpet
which Prince Hussein bought long ago, in the market at Bisnagar,
and which the fairies had brought, with the other presents, to the
christening of Prince Prigio.
[Illustration: Page 40]
When he arrived at the house where the ball was going on, he put
the magical carpet in the portmanteau, and left it in the cloakroom,
receiving a numbered ticket in exchange. Then he marched in all his
glory (and, of course, without the cap of darkness) into the room where
they were dancing. Everybody made place for him, bowing down to the
ground, and the loyal band struck up _The Prince’s March_:
Heaven bless our Prince Prigio! What is there he doesn’t know? Greek,
Swiss, German (High and Low), And the names of the mountains in Mexico,
Heaven bless the prince!
He used to be very fond of this march, and the words--some people even
said he had made them himself. But now, somehow, he didn’t much like
it. He went straight to the Duke of Stumpfelbahn, the Hereditary Master
of the Ceremonies, and asked to be introduced to the beautiful young
lady. She was the daughter of the new English Ambassador, and her name
was Lady Rosalind. But she nearly fainted when she heard who it was that
wished to dance with her, for she was not at all particularly clever;
and the prince had such a bad character for snubbing girls, and asking
them difficult questions. However, it was impossible to refuse, and so
she danced with the prince, and he danced very well. Then they sat out
in the conservatory, among the flowers, where nobody came near them; and
then they danced again, and then the Prince took her down to supper. And
all the time he never once said, “Have you read _this?_” or “Have you
read _that?_” or, “What! you never heard of Alexander the Great?”
or Julius Caesar, or Michael Angelo, or whoever it might be--horrid,
difficult questions he used to ask. That was the way he _used_ to go on:
but now he only talked to the young lady about _herself_; and she
quite left off being shy or frightened, and asked him all about his own
country, and about the Firedrake shooting, and said how fond she was of
hunting herself. And the prince said:
“Oh, if _you_ wish it, you shall have the horns and tail of a Firedrake
to hang up in your hall, to-morrow evening!”
Then she asked if it was not very dangerous work, Firedrake hunting; and
he said it was nothing, when you knew the trick of it: and he asked her
if she would but give him a rose out of her bouquet; and, in short, he
made himself so agreeable and _unaffected_, that she thought him very
nice indeed.
For, even a clever person can be nice when he likes--above all, when
he is not thinking about himself. And now the prince was thinking of
nothing in the world but the daughter of the English Ambassador, and
how to please her-He got introduced to her father too, and quite won his
heart; and, at last, he was invited to dine next day at the Embassy.
In Pantouflia, it is the custom that a ball must not end while one of
the royal family goes on dancing. _This_ ball lasted till the light came
in, and the birds were singing out of doors, and all the mothers present
were sound asleep.
[Illustration: Page 42]
Then nothing would satisfy the prince, but that they all should go home
singing through the streets; in fact, there never had been so merry a
dance in all Pantouflia. The prince had made a point of dancing with
almost every girl there: and he had suddenly become the most beloved
of the royal family. But everything must end at last; and the prince,
putting on the cap of darkness and sitting on the famous carpet, flew
back to his lonely castle.
[Illustration: Chapter Eight]