Part 9 (1/2)

'Never mind that stuff,' says GILES, greatly disturbed. 'Come home with me, my friends. Gallant Smith! intrepid Jones! friends of my studies--partakers of my academic toils--I have that to tell which shall astonish your honest minds.'

'Go it, old boy!' cries the impetuous Smith.

'Talk away, my buck!' says Jones, a lively fellow.

With an air of indescribable dignity, Giglio checked their natural, but no more seemly, familiarity. 'Jones, Smith, my good friends,' said the PRINCE, 'disguise is henceforth useless; I am no more the humble student Giles, I am the descendant of a royal line.'

'Atavis edite regibus, I know, old co--' cried Jones. He was going to say old c.o.c.k, but a flash from THE ROYAL EYE again awed him.

'Friends,' continued the Prince, 'I am that Giglio, I am, in fact, Paflagonia. Rise, Smith, and kneel not in the public street. Jones, thou true heart! My faithless uncle, when I was a baby, filched from me that brave crown my father left me, bred me, all young and careless of my rights, like unto hapless Hamlet, Prince of Denmark; and had I any thoughts about my wrongs, soothed me with promises of near redress. I should espouse his daughter, young Angelica; we two indeed should reign in Paflagonia. His words were false--false as Angelica's heart!--false as Angelica's hair, colour, front teeth! She looked with her skew eyes upon young Bulbo, Crim Tartary's stupid heir, and she preferred him.'

Twas then I turned my eyes upon Betsinda--Rosalba, as she now is. And I saw in her the blus.h.i.+ng sum of all perfection; the pink of maiden modesty; the nymph that my fond heart had ever woo'd in dreams,' etc.

etc.

(I don't give this speech, which was very fine, but very long; and though Smith and Jones knew nothing about the circ.u.mstances, my dear reader does, so I go on.)

The Prince and his young friends hastened home to his apartment, highly excited by the intelligence, as no doubt by the ROYAL NARRATOR'S admirable manner of recounting it, and they ran up to his room where he had worked so hard at his books.

On his writing-table was his bag, grown so long that the Prince could not help remarking it. He went to it, opened it, and what do you think he found in it?

A splendid long, gold-handled, red-velvet-scabbarded, cut-and-thrust sword, and on the sheath was embroidered 'ROSALBA FOR EVER!'

He drew out the sword, which flashed and illuminated the whole room, and called out 'Rosalba for ever!' Smith and Jones following him, but quite respectfully this time, and taking the time from His Royal Highness.

And now his trunk opened with a sudden pony, and out there came three ostrich feathers in a gold crown, surrounding a beautiful s.h.i.+ning steel helmet, a cuira.s.s, a pair of spurs, finally a complete suit of armour.

The books on Giglio's shelves were all gone. Where there had been some great dictionaries, Giglio's friends found two pairs of jack-boots labelled, 'Lieutenant Smith,' '--Jones, Esq.,' which fitted them to a nicety. Besides, there were helmets, back and breast plates, swords, etc., just like in Mr. G. P. R. James's novels; and that evening three cavaliers might have been seen issuing from the gates of Bosforo, in whom the porters, proctors, etc., never thought of recognising the young Prince and his friends.

They got horses at a livery stable-keeper's, and never drew bridle until they reached the last town on the frontier before you come to Crim Tartary. Here, as their animals were tired, and the cavaliers hungry, they stopped and refreshed at an hostel. I could make a chapter of this if I were like some writers, but I like to cram my measure tight down, you see, and give you a great deal for your money, and, in a word, they had some bread and cheese and ale upstairs on the balcony of the inn.

As they were drinking, drums and trumpets sounded nearer and nearer, the marketplace was filled with soldiers, and His Royal Highness looking forth, recognised the Paflagonian banners, and the Paflagonian national air which the bands were playing.

The troops all made for the tavern at once, and as they came up Giglio exclaimed, on beholding their leader, 'Whom do I see? Yes! No! It is, it is! Phoo! No, it can't be! Yes! It is my friend, my gallant faithful veteran, Captain Hedzoff! Ho! Hedzoff! Knowest thou not thy Prince, thy Giglio? Good Corporal, methinks we once were friends. Ha, Sergeant, an'

my memory serves me right, we have had many a bout at singlestick.'

'I' faith, we have, a many, good my Lord,' says the Sergeant.

'Tell me, what means this mighty armament,' continued His Royal Highness from the balcony, 'and whither march my Paflagonians?'

Hedzoff's head fell. 'My Lord,' he said, 'we march as the allies of great Padella, Crim Tartary's monarch.'

'Crim Tartary's usurper, gallant Hedzoff! Crim Tartary's grim tyrant, honest Hedzoff!' said the Prince, on the balcony, quite sarcastically.

'A soldier, Prince, must needs obey his orders: mine are to help His Majesty Padella. And also (though alack that I should say it!) to seize wherever I should light upon him.'

'First catch your hare! ha, Hedzoff!' exclaimed His Royal Highness.

'--On the body of GIGLIO, whilome Prince of Paflagonia' Hedzoff went on, with indescribable emotion. 'My Prince, give up your sword without ado.

Look! we are thirty thousand men to one!'

'Give up my sword! Giglio give up his sword!' cried the Prince; and stepping well forward on to the balcony, the royal youth, WITHOUT PREPARATION, delivered a speech so magnificent, that no report can do justice to it. It was all in blank verse (in which, from this time, he invariably spoke, as more becoming his majestic station). It lasted for three days and three nights, during which not a single person who heard him was tired, or remarked the difference between daylight and dark.