Part 7 (2/2)
Oh, the long words--how they slipped out of reach! The little Princess sighed rather wearily. She would have to rehea.r.s.e that speech so many times before the Prince came. Suppose he came to-night! Suppose she looked up now, this minute, towards the golden west and he was there, swinging along through the willow canes towards her!
But there was no one swinging along through the willows. The yellow light flickered through--that was all. Somewhere, a long way off, sounded the monotonous hum of men's voices. Through the lace-work of willow twigs there showed the faintest possible blur of color. Down beyond, in the clearing, the Castle Guards in blue jean blouses were pulling stumps. The Princess could not see their dull, pa.s.sionless faces, and she was glad of it. The Castle Guards depressed her. But they were not as bad as the Castle Guardesses. _They_ were mostly old women with bleared, dim eyes, and they wore such faded--silks.
”_My_ silk dress is rather faded,” murmured the little Princess wistfully. She smoothed down the scant calico skirt with her brown little fingers. The patch in it she would not see.
”I shall have to have the Royal Dress-maker make me another one soon.
Let me see,--what color shall I choose? I'd _like_ my gold-colored velvet made up. I'm tired of wearing royal purple dresses all the time, though of course I know they're appropriater. I wonder what color the Prince would like best? I should rather choose that color.”
The Princess's little brown hands were clasped about one knee, and she was rocking herself slowly back and forth, her eyes, wistful and wide, on the path the Prince would come. She was tired to-day and it was harder to wait.
”But when he comes I shall say, 'Hear, O Prince. Verily, verily, I did not know which color you would like to find me dressed--I mean arrayed--in, and so I beseech thee excuse--_pardon_, I mean--mine infirmity.'”
The Princess was not sure of ”infirmity,” but it sounded well. She could not think of a better word.
”And then--I _think_ then--he will take me in his arms, and his face will be all sweet and splendid like the Mother o' G.o.d's in the picture, and he will whisper,--I don't think he will say it out loud,--oh, I'd rather not!--'Verily, Princess,' he will whisper, 'Oh, verily, _verily_, thou hast found favor in my sight!' And that will mean that he doesn't care what color I am, for he--loves--me.”
Lower and lower sank the solemn voice of the Princess. Slower and slower rocked the little, lean body. The birds themselves stopped singing at the end. In the Secret Place it was very still.
”Oh no, no, no,--not _verily!_” breathed the Princess, in soft awe.
For the wonder of it took her breath away. She had never in her life been loved, and now, at this moment, it seemed so near! She thought she heard the footsteps of the Prince.
They came nearer. The crisp twigs snapped under his feet. He was whistling.
”Oh, I can't look!--I can't!” gasped the little Princess, but she turned her face to the west,--she had always known it would be from the west, and lifted closed eyes to his coming. When he got to the Twisted Willow she might dare to look,--to the Little Willow Twins, anyway.
”And I shall know when he does,” she thought. ”I shall know the minute!”
Her face was rapt and tender. The miracle she had made for herself,--the gold she had coined out of her piteous alloy,--was it not come true at last?--Verily, verily?
Hus.h.!.+ Was the Prince not coming through the willows? And the suns.h.i.+ne was trickling down on his hair! The Princess knew, though she did not look.
”He is at the Twisted Willow,” she thought. ”_Now_ he is at the Little Willow Twins.” But she did not open her eyes. She did not dare. This was a little different, she had never counted on being afraid.
The twigs snapped louder and nearer--now very near. The merry whistle grew clearer, and then it stopped.
”Hullo!”
Did princes say ”hullo!” The Princess had little time to wonder, for he was there before her. She could feel his presence in every fibre of her trembling little being, though she would not open her eyes for very fear that it might be somebody else. No, no, it was the Prince!
It was his voice, clear and ringing, as she had known it would be.
She put up her hands suddenly and covered her eyes with them to make surer. It was not fear now, but a device to put off a little longer the delight of seeing him.
”I say, hullo! Haven't you got any tongue?”
”Oh, verily, verily,--I mean hear, O Prince, I beseech,” she panted.
The boy's merry eyes regarded the shabby small person in puzzled astonishment. He felt an impulse to laugh and run away, but his royal blood forbade either. So he waited.
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