Part 2 (1/2)

When at last he had been admitted and had given the letter into the governor's own hands, he dropped down in a fainting fit, and was carried off to the stables.

He was not long in coming to himself, however, and as soon as he was sufficiently recovered he had a feast ”fit for a king,” as he said; though he steadily refused to touch a drop of the wine which was brought to him.

The whole time he was eating he kept his eyes fixed on the beautiful horses, wondering which one he should have to ride; and more than once he sent an urgent message to the governor, begging him to let him have the answer to the letter which he was to take to Buda.

”All in good time,” said the governor placidly. ”He shall be called presently, tell him, when it is time for him to start.”

So Miska had nothing for it but to rest in the stable, which was pleasant enough; for where is the Hungarian, old or young, who does not love a horse? Moreover, he was very tired after his long tramp, and presently, in spite of his impatience to be off, he fell into a doze.

He was still dozing comfortably when the sound of a horn roused him.

There was a rush to the castle-gate, and when it was opened, a young man, plainly dressed and alone, rode into the courtyard, where the governor hastened to greet him with affectionate respect. For the newcomer, the horseman whose acquaintance we made outside Mr. Samson's castle, was no other than King Matthias himself.

”Has my messenger, the beggar boy, arrived?” he asked briskly.

”He is yonder in the stable,” said the governor; ”he has only just come in, very faint, and he is urging me to give him a horse already.”

”He is here?” said the king in surprise. ”Impossible! I came at a good pace myself, and set out hardly half an hour after him. Call him here.”

In a few moments the lad was standing in the presence of the great king, though he was far enough from guessing whom he was talking with.

”It is you, the horseman?” said Miska. ”Well, it is not my fault that I am still here. I have been urging Mr. Governor enough, I can tell you. I might have been ever so long on my way by this time, and they haven't yet changed my rags or given me a horse.”

”Have you had a good feed?”

”Yes, I have; but I did not dare drink any wine.”

”Why not, gossip?”

”That's a foolish question,” returned the lad calmly, while the governor turned pale at his audacity. ”Why, sir, because it is six months since I had any, and it would go to my head; and a tipsy messenger is like a clerk without hands--they both pipe the same tune.”

”Good,” said the king, amused. ”Then didn't you stop anywhere on the way? You could hardly lift your feet when you started, and you see I had not much faith in you, and came after you.”

”Well,” said the lad, looking boldly up at Matthias, ”to be sure you are a strong-built chap, and I believe you could swallow Mr. Governor here if you were angry; but if your eyes had been starting out of your head with hunger as mine were, I believe you would have been sitting in some _csarda_ [wayside inn] till now. Stop anywhere? The idea of such a thing! As if any one who had business needing haste entrusted to him would think of stopping to rest!”

”Listen, Miska,” said the king. ”Would you like to be something better than you are now?”

”Hja!” said the beggar, ”I might soon be that certainly, for at present I am not worth even so much as a Jew's harp.”

”Let us hear, gossip; what would you like to be?”

”Like? Well, really, sir, I have never given it a thought. Hm! what I should like to be? But then, could it be now--at once?”

”That depends upon the extent of your wishes; for you might wish to be governor of Visegrad, and in that case the answer would be, 'Hold in your greyhounds' [don't be in too much hurry].”

”I shouldn't care to be governor, to sit here by a good fire keeping myself warm--though, to be sure, it would be well enough sometimes, especially in winter, when one has such fine clothes as mine, which just let the wind in where they should keep it out; but I should like to be something like that stick on the castle clock which is always moving backwards and forwards--something that is always on the move.”

”Always on the move!” laughed the king. ”Well then, gossip, I'll take you for my courier; and if you like, you need not keep still a moment.”

”I don't mind!” said Miska joyously. ”Then I will be a courier.”