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 today; 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.
Poor Betsinda did not know whether to laugh or to cry; the 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."
"Oh, 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!