Part 8 (1/2)

Now, the Lion journeyed for many months through the Kingdom without finding a trace of his family. He scanned carefully the entrance to every great palace and castle. He caused some confusion in traffic by das.h.i.+ng out to examine the crests emblazoned upon the panels of the chariots which pa.s.sed him on the road. He even halted foot-pa.s.sengers to inquire, courteously, if he might look more closely at certain devices upon chain or brooch or bangle which had caught his eye. Especially, he surprised with his attentions several persons who had sneezed violently in his presence. But in vain. He failed to find the clue he sought.

Folk would fain have helped him in his search; for his manners were gentle and gracious, and his bearing unmistakably n.o.ble. Folk liked him.

Many would have been glad to prove themselves, through him, scions of that great family which he undoubtedly represented. But all their efforts to sneeze at the right time were fruitless. They went away crestfallen before his reproachful gaze. Sometimes, the Lion would spy a lovely face, or a manly figure, which appealed strangely to him.

”Surely,” he would say to himself, ”surely, this n.o.ble-looking person is one of Them. Something seems to tell me so!” And he would a.s.sume his heraldic pose, with dexter paw lifted and eloquent tail curved high, waiting wistfully for the sneeze of recognition to follow. Sometimes, alas! came, instead, a laugh of scorn, or an unkind word. He learned that n.o.ble figures and lovely faces do not always adorn like natures.

Well, many months pa.s.sed by. Footsore and weary, the Lion still traveled upon his quest. He felt very old and lonesome, homesick for his marble halls, hopeless of finding them. He came, one noon, to an inn on the outskirts of Derrydown Village. Over the door of the inn a signboard creaked and flapped in the wind. The Lion looked up. He beheld upon the sign the picture of a red lion! The traveler was greatly moved.

”Surely,” he thought, ”this must be the arms of some great family in the neighborhood--perhaps my ancestral castle is hereabout!” But when he explained things to the Landlord, that worthy dashed his hopes once more. No family with such a device was known in those parts.

”However,” said the Landlord, eyeing the Lion appraisingly, ”I have an idea! If you will remain with me for some hours, I will show you something. The Prince and his train are to pa.s.s here on their way to the Ancient Wood, where they will hunt. In the company will be all the grandest n.o.bles of the Kingdom. Surely, some of your family will be among them. Here is a splendid viewpoint! Do you remain beside my door in your grand att.i.tude. You will see and be seen. If your folks are there, you will be sneezed at; which is what you want. It will be, beside, a grand advertis.e.m.e.nt for me--a real red lion guarding the Red Lion Inn!”

The Lion agreed. That night, when the Prince's cavalcade pa.s.sed through Derrydown, huge and red, with lifted paw and curved tail, the beast stood at the door of the Red Lion Inn. Many stared in wonder. Many paused to inquire. Many entered and partook of the dainties which Mine Host had prepared against this very happening. The Prince himself paused, pointed, and asked a question. The Lion's heart leaped wildly!

There was a curious expression on the Prince's face; it seemed drawn and twisted--was he about to sneeze? Alas! No. With a harsh laugh, the Prince gave the Lion a cut with his whip and bounded past; after him, the last of his followers. The Lion's skin smarted and his heart writhed. He kept his temper with difficulty; but--it was the Prince.

_n.o.blesse oblige_.

When they were out of sight, his head drooped. There was no one in all that gallant company who belonged to him. But the Landlord had reaped a rich harvest from the Lion's presence. When once more the village was empty of n.o.bility, he came to the Lion, rubbing his hands, contentedly.

”Old fellow,” he said, ”I have had profit from you. Now, I will give you supper and a bed in my stable for the night. And why should we not make this arrangement permanent? You see, your folks are gone. The family has run out and no one any longer bears or recognizes the crest. You are an orphan; but you can still be of use to me. Why not become the supporter of my inn?”

”Gramercy!” quoth the Lion, with dignity. ”I will accept the supper, for I am very hungry. But as for sleeping in the stable, that I cannot do! I prefer a bed on one of the fragrant hayc.o.c.ks in your meadow.”

”To that you are welcome, if you please,” said the Landlord graciously.

”And, to-morrow, we will talk again of the other matter.”

So the Lion had his supper, and then went wearily to sleep on a hayc.o.c.k in the thymy meadow. He was sad and disillusioned, and the Landlord's words had taken away his last hope. He began to wish that he had never come alive. ”To-morrow,” he said, ”I will go back to the Old Curiosity Shop, and see if the old man can un-medicine me. For a crest without a family is even a more forlorn thing than a family without a crest!”

The Lion wakened with a start. ”_Ker-chew! Ker-chew! Ker-chew!_” sounded in his ear. He sprang to his feet and looked around. Opposite him stood a little girl in a ragged gown, with a basket on her arm, staring at him with big, round eyes. She did not seem in the least afraid. The Lion was annoyed. He had been dreaming of his n.o.ble family, and it was very disappointing to be wakened by this beggar with her mocking ”_Ker-chew_!”

”Away with you, child!” he said. ”I am weary and peevish. Do you not know better than to awaken a sleeping lion?”

”_Ker-chew! Ker-chew! Ker-chew!_” The child sneezed again so violently that she nearly fell into the hayc.o.c.k.

The Lion was agitated. ”What can this mean?” he thought. ”It must be an accident which has caused her to sneeze at the word. I will try again.”

He began firmly, ”When a lion--” But again he was interrupted by the violent sneezing of the little maid as soon as the word had pa.s.sed his teeth.

The Lion s.h.i.+vered. Could this really be? Was it possible that this vagrant was an offshoot of the n.o.ble family which he had been seeking?

If so, he must be in no hurry to claim relations.h.i.+p! The child put her hand into her basket, smiling.

”Good Lion,” she said, ”_Ker-chew! Ker-chew! Ker-chew!_ I like you. Will you have a bit of bread?” And she held out to him a fragment of her luncheon.

The Lion was touched. He did not like bread, but he could not refuse a child, and he ate it painfully. ”What is your name?” he asked at length.

”Claribel,” she answered.

”Your other name?” he persisted.

”Claribel,” she repeated. ”Just Claribel--that is all.”