The Fairy Blackstick, by whose means this young King and Queen had
certainly won their respective crowns back, would come not unfrequently,
to pay them a little visit--as they were riding in their triumphal
progress towards Giglio's capital--change her wand into a pony, and
travel by their Majesties' side, giving them the very best advice. I am
not sure that King Giglio did not think the Fairy and her advice rather
a bore, fancying it was his own valor and merits which had put him on
his throne, and conquered Padella: and, in fine, I fear he rather gave
himself airs towards his best friend and patroness. She exhorted him to
deal justly by his subjects, to draw mildly on the taxes, never to break
his promise when he had once given it--and in all respects to be a good
King.
"A good King, my dear Fairy!" cries Rosalba. "Of course he will. Break
his promise! can you fancy my Giglio would ever do anything so improper,
so unlike him? No! never!" And she looked fondly towards Giglio, whom
she thought a pattern of perfection.
"Why is Fairy Blackstick always advising me, and telling me how to
manage my government, and warning me to keep my word? Does she suppose
that I am not a man of sense, and a man of honor?" asks Giglio testily.
"Methinks she rather presumes upon her position."
"Hush! dear Giglio," says Rosalba. "You know Blackstick has been very
kind to us, and we must not offend her." But the Fairy was not listening
to Giglio's testy observations, she had fallen back, and was trotting
on her pony now, by Master Bulbo's side, who rode a donkey, and made
himself generally beloved in the army by his cheerfulness, kindness, and
good-humor to everybody. He was eager to see his darling Angelica. He
thought there never was such a charming being. Blackstick did not tell
him it was the possession of the magic rose that made Angelica so lovely
in his eyes. She brought him the very best accounts of his little wife,
whose misfortunes and humiliations had indeed very greatly improved
her; and, you see, she could whisk off on her wand a hundred miles in a
minute, and be back in no time, and so carry polite messages from Bulbo
to Angelica, and from Angelica to Bulbo, and comfort that young man upon
his journey.
When the Royal party arrived at the last stage before you reach
Blombodinga, who should be in waiting, in her carriage there with her
lady of honor by her side, but the Princess Angelica? She rushed into
her husband's arms, scarcely stopping to make a passing curtsey to the
King and Queen. She had no eyes but for Bulbo, who appeared perfectly
lovely to her on account of the fairy ring which he wore; whilst she
herself, wearing the magic rose in her bonnet, seemed entirely beautiful
to the enraptured Bulbo.
A splendid luncheon was served to the Royal party, of which the
Archbishop, the Chancellor, Duke Hedzoff, Countess Gruffanuff, and all
our friends partook, the Fairy Blackstick being seated on the left of
King Giglio, with Bulbo and Angelica beside her. You could hear the
joy-bells ringing in the capital, and the guns which the citizens were
firing off in honor of their Majesties.
"What can have induced that hideous old Gruffanuff to dress herself up
in such an absurd way? Did you ask her to be your bridesmaid, my dear?"
says Giglio to Rosalba. "What a figure of fun Gruffy is!"
Gruffy was seated opposite their Majesties, between the Archbishop and
the Lord Chancellor, and a figure of fun she certainly was, for she was
dressed in a low white silk dress, with lace over, a wreath of white
roses on her wig, a splendid lace veil, and her yellow old neck was
covered with diamonds. She ogled the King in such a manner that his
Majesty burst out laughing.
"Eleven o'clock!" cries Giglio, as the great Cathedral bell of
Blombodinga tolled that hour. "Gentlemen and ladies, we must be
starting. Archbishop, you must be at church, I think, before twelve?"
"We must be at church before twelve," sighs out Gruffanuff in a
languishing voice, hiding her old face behind her fan.
"And then I shall be the happiest man in my dominions," cries Giglio,
with an elegant bow to the blushing Rosalba.
"Oh, my Giglio! Oh, my dear Majesty!" exclaims Gruffanuff; "and can it
be that this happy moment at length has arrived--"
"Of course it has arrived," says the King.
"--and that I am about to become the enraptured bride of my adored
Giglio!" continues Gruffanuff. "Lend me a smelling-bottle, somebody. I
certainly shall faint with joy."
"YOU my bride?" roars out Giglio.
"YOU marry my Prince?" cried poor little Rosalba.
"Pooh! Nonsense! The woman's mad!" exclaims the King. And all the
courtiers exhibited by their countenances and expressions, marks of
surprise, or ridicule, or incredulity, or wonder.
"I should like to know who else is going to be married, if I am not?"
shrieks out Gruffanuff. "I should like to know if King Giglio is a
gentleman, and if there is such a thing as justice in Paflagonia? Lord
Chancellor! my Lord Archbishop! will your Lordships sit by and see a
poor, fond, confiding, tender creature put upon? Has not Prince Giglio
promised to marry his Barbara? Is not this Giglio's signature? Does not
this paper declare that he is mine, and only mine?" And she handed
to his Grace the Archbishop the document which the Prince signed
that evening when she wore the magic ring, and Giglio drank so
much champagne. And the old Archbishop, taking out his eyeglasses,
read--"This is to give notice, that I, Giglio, only son of Savio, King
of Paflagonia, hereby promise to marry the charming Barbara Griselda
Countess Gruffanuff, and widow of the late Jenkins Gruffanuff, Esq."
"H'm," says the Archbishop, "the document is certainly a--a document."
"Phoo!" says the Lord Chancellor, "the signature is not in his Majesty's
handwriting." Indeed, since his studies at Bosforo, Giglio had made an
immense improvement in caligraphy.
"Is it your handwriting, Giglio?" cries the Fairy Blackstick, with an
awful severity of countenance.
"Y--y--y--es," poor Giglio gasps out, "I had quite forgotten the
confounded paper: she can't mean to hold me by it. You old wretch, what
will you take to let me off? Help the Queen, some one--her Majesty has
fainted."
"Chop her head off!" } exclaim the impetuous Hedzoff,
"Smother the old witch!" } the ardent Smith, and the
"Pitch her into the river!"} faithful Jones.
But Gruffanuff flung her arms round the Archbishop's neck, and bellowed
out, "Justice, justice, my Lord Chancellor!" so loudly, that her
piercing shrieks caused everybody to pause. As for Rosalba, she was
borne away lifeless by her ladies; and you may imagine the look of agony
which Giglio cast towards that lovely being, as his hope, his joy, his
darling, his all in all, was thus removed, and in her place the horrid
old Gruffanuff rushed up to his side, and once more shrieked out,
"Justice, justice!"
"Won't you take that sum of money which Glumboso hid?" says Giglio; "two
hundred and eighteen thousand millions, or thereabouts. It's a handsome
sum."
"I will have that and you too!" says Gruffanuff.
"Let us throw the crown jewels into the bargain," gasps out Giglio.
"I will wear them by my Giglio's side!" says Gruffanuff.
"Will half, three-quarters, five-sixths, nineteen-twentieths, of my
kingdom do, Countess?" asks the trembling monarch.
"What were all Europe to me without YOU, my Giglio?" cries Gruff,
kissing his hand.
"I won't, I can't, I shan't,--I'll resign the crown first," shouts
Giglio, tearing away his hand; but Gruff clung to it.
"I have a competency, my love," she says, "and with thee and a cottage
thy Barbara will be happy."
Giglio was half mad with rage by this time. "I will not marry her,"
says he. "Oh, Fairy, Fairy, give me counsel?" And as he spoke he looked
wildly round at the severe face of the Fairy Blackstick.
"'Why is Fairy Blackstick always advising me, and warning me to keep my
word? Does she suppose that I am not a man of honor?'" said the Fairy,
quoting Giglio's own haughty words. He quailed under the brightness
of her eyes; he felt that there was no escape for him from that awful
inquisition.
"Well, Archbishop," said he in a dreadful voice, that made his Grace
start, "since this Fairy has led me to the height of happiness but to
dash me down into the depths of despair, since I am to lose Rosalba, let
me at least keep my honor. Get up, Countess, and let us be married; I
can keep my word, but I can die afterwards."
"Oh, dear Giglio," cries Gruffanuff, skipping up, "I knew, I knew I
could trust thee--I knew that my Prince was the soul of honor. Jump into
your carriages, ladies and gentlemen, and let us go to church at
once; and as for dying, dear Giglio, no, no:--thou wilt forget that
insignificant little chambermaid of a Queen--thou wilt live to be
consoled by thy Barbara! She wishes to be a Queen, and not a Queen
Dowager, my gracious Lord!" And hanging upon poor Giglio's arm, and
leering and grinning in his face in the most disgusting manner, this old
wretch tripped off in her white satin shoes, and jumped into the very
carriage which had been got ready to convey Giglio and Rosalba to
church. The cannons roared again, the bells pealed triple-bobmajors, the
people came out flinging flowers upon the path of the royal bride and
bridegroom, and Gruff looked out of the gilt coach window and bowed and
grinned to them. Phoo! the horrid old wretch!