The Prince and the Pauper, Mark Twain [fantasy novels to read .TXT] 📗
- Author: Mark Twain
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Princess Elizabeth’s quick eye saw by the serene blankness of the
target’s front that the shaft was overshot; so she tranquilly delivered a
return volley of sounding Greek on Tom’s behalf, and then straightway
changed the talk to other matters.
Time wore on pleasantly, and likewise smoothly, on the whole. Snags and
sandbars grew less and less frequent, and Tom grew more and more at his
ease, seeing that all were so lovingly bent upon helping him and
overlooking his mistakes. When it came out that the little ladies were
to accompany him to the Lord Mayor’s banquet in the evening, his heart
gave a bound of relief and delight, for he felt that he should not be
friendless, now, among that multitude of strangers; whereas, an hour
earlier, the idea of their going with him would have been an
insupportable terror to him.
Tom’s guardian angels, the two lords, had had less comfort in the
interview than the other parties to it. They felt much as if they were
piloting a great ship through a dangerous channel; they were on the alert
constantly, and found their office no child’s play. Wherefore, at last,
when the ladies’ visit was drawing to a close and the Lord Guilford
Dudley was announced, they not only felt that their charge had been
sufficiently taxed for the present, but also that they themselves were
not in the best condition to take their ship back and make their anxious
voyage all over again. So they respectfully advised Tom to excuse
himself, which he was very glad to do, although a slight shade of
disappointment might have been observed upon my Lady Jane’s face when she
heard the splendid stripling denied admittance.
There was a pause now, a sort of waiting silence which Tom could not
understand. He glanced at Lord Hertford, who gave him a sign—but he
failed to understand that also. The ready Elizabeth came to the rescue
with her usual easy grace. She made reverence and said—
“Have we leave of the prince’s grace my brother to go?”
Tom said—
“Indeed your ladyships can have whatsoever of me they will, for the
asking; yet would I rather give them any other thing that in my poor
power lieth, than leave to take the light and blessing of their presence
hence. Give ye good den, and God be with ye!” Then he smiled inwardly at
the thought, “‘Tis not for nought I have dwelt but among princes in my
reading, and taught my tongue some slight trick of their broidered and
gracious speech withal!”
When the illustrious maidens were gone, Tom turned wearily to his keepers
and said—
“May it please your lordships to grant me leave to go into some corner
and rest me?”
Lord Hertford said—
“So please your highness, it is for you to command, it is for us to obey.
That thou should’st rest is indeed a needful thing, since thou must
journey to the city presently.”
He touched a bell, and a page appeared, who was ordered to desire the
presence of Sir William Herbert. This gentleman came straightway, and
conducted Tom to an inner apartment. Tom’s first movement there was to
reach for a cup of water; but a silk-and-velvet servitor seized it,
dropped upon one knee, and offered it to him on a golden salver.
Next the tired captive sat down and was going to take off his buskins,
timidly asking leave with his eye, but another silk-and-velvet
discomforter went down upon his knees and took the office from him. He
made two or three further efforts to help himself, but being promptly
forestalled each time, he finally gave up, with a sigh of resignation and
a murmured “Beshrew me, but I marvel they do not require to breathe for
me also!” Slippered, and wrapped in a sumptuous robe, he laid himself
down at last to rest, but not to sleep, for his head was too full of
thoughts and the room too full of people. He could not dismiss the
former, so they stayed; he did not know enough to dismiss the latter, so
they stayed also, to his vast regret—and theirs.
Tom’s departure had left his two noble guardians alone. They mused a
while, with much head-shaking and walking the floor, then Lord St. John
said—
“Plainly, what dost thou think?”
“Plainly, then, this. The King is near his end; my nephew is mad—mad
will mount the throne, and mad remain. God protect England, since she
will need it!”
“Verily it promiseth so, indeed. But … have you no misgivings as to
… as to …”
The speaker hesitated, and finally stopped. He evidently felt that he
was upon delicate ground. Lord Hertford stopped before him, looked into
his face with a clear, frank eye, and said—
“Speak on—there is none to hear but me. Misgivings as to what?”
“I am full loth to word the thing that is in my mind, and thou so near to
him in blood, my lord. But craving pardon if I do offend, seemeth it not
strange that madness could so change his port and manner?—not but that
his port and speech are princely still, but that they DIFFER, in one
unweighty trifle or another, from what his custom was aforetime. Seemeth
it not strange that madness should filch from his memory his father’s
very lineaments; the customs and observances that are his due from such
as be about him; and, leaving him his Latin, strip him of his Greek and
French? My lord, be not offended, but ease my mind of its disquiet and
receive my grateful thanks. It haunteth me, his saying he was not the
prince, and so—”
“Peace, my lord, thou utterest treason! Hast forgot the King’s command?
Remember I am party to thy crime if I but listen.”
St. John paled, and hastened to say—
“I was in fault, I do confess it. Betray me not, grant me this grace out
of thy courtesy, and I will neither think nor speak of this thing more.
Deal not hardly with me, sir, else am I ruined.”
“I am content, my lord. So thou offend not again, here or in the ears of
others, it shall be as though thou hadst not spoken. But thou need’st
not have misgivings. He is my sister’s son; are not his voice, his face,
his form, familiar to me from his cradle? Madness can do all the odd
conflicting things thou seest in him, and more. Dost not recall how that
the old Baron Marley, being mad, forgot the favour of his own countenance
that he had known for sixty years, and held it was another’s; nay, even
claimed he was the son of Mary Magdalene, and that his head was made of
Spanish glass; and, sooth to say, he suffered none to touch it, lest by
mischance some heedless hand might shiver it? Give thy misgivings
easement, good my lord. This is the very prince—I know him well—and
soon will be thy king; it may advantage thee to bear this in mind, and
more dwell upon it than the other.”
After some further talk, in which the Lord St. John covered up his
mistake as well as he could by repeated protests that his faith was
thoroughly grounded now, and could not be assailed by doubts again, the
Lord Hertford relieved his fellow-keeper, and sat down to keep watch and
ward alone. He was soon deep in meditation, and evidently the longer he
thought, the more he was bothered. By-and-by he began to pace the floor
and mutter.
“Tush, he MUST be the prince! Will any he in all the land maintain there
can be two, not of one blood and birth, so marvellously twinned? And
even were it so, ‘twere yet a stranger miracle that chance should cast
the one into the other’s place. Nay, ‘tis folly, folly, folly!”
Presently he said—
“Now were he impostor and called himself prince, look you THAT would be
natural; that would be reasonable. But lived ever an impostor yet, who,
being called prince by the king, prince by the court, prince by all,
DENIED his dignity and pleaded against his exaltation? NO! By the soul
of St. Swithin, no! This is the true prince, gone mad!”
Chapter VII. Tom’s first royal dinner.
Somewhat after one in the afternoon, Tom resignedly underwent the ordeal
of being dressed for dinner. He found himself as finely clothed as
before, but everything different, everything changed, from his ruff to
his stockings. He was presently conducted with much state to a spacious
and ornate apartment, where a table was already set for one. Its
furniture was all of massy gold, and beautified with designs which well-nigh made it priceless, since they were the work of Benvenuto. The room
was half-filled with noble servitors. A chaplain said grace, and Tom was
about to fall to, for hunger had long been constitutional with him, but
was interrupted by my lord the Earl of Berkeley, who fastened a napkin
about his neck; for the great post of Diaperers to the Prince of Wales
was hereditary in this nobleman’s family. Tom’s cupbearer was present,
and forestalled all his attempts to help himself to wine. The Taster to
his highness the Prince of Wales was there also, prepared to taste any
suspicious dish upon requirement, and run the risk of being poisoned. He
was only an ornamental appendage at this time, and was seldom called upon
to exercise his function; but there had been times, not many generations
past, when the office of taster had its perils, and was not a grandeur to
be desired. Why they did not use a dog or a plumber seems strange; but
all the ways of royalty are strange. My Lord d’Arcy, First Groom of the
Chamber, was there, to do goodness knows what; but there he was—let that
suffice. The Lord Chief Butler was there, and stood behind Tom’s chair,
overseeing the solemnities, under command of the Lord Great Steward and
the Lord Head Cook, who stood near. Tom had three hundred and eighty-four servants beside these; but they were not all in that room, of
course, nor the quarter of them; neither was Tom aware yet that they
existed.
All those that were present had been well drilled within the hour to
remember that the prince was temporarily out of his head, and to be
careful to show no surprise at his vagaries. These ‘vagaries’ were soon
on exhibition before them; but they only moved their compassion and their
sorrow, not their mirth. It was a heavy affliction to them to see the
beloved prince so stricken.
Poor Tom ate with his fingers mainly; but no one smiled at it, or even
seemed to observe it. He inspected his napkin curiously, and with deep
interest, for it was of a very dainty and beautiful fabric, then said
with simplicity—
“Prithee, take it away, lest in mine unheedfulness it be soiled.”
The Hereditary Diaperer took it away with reverent manner, and without
word or protest of any sort.
Tom examined the turnips and the lettuce with interest, and asked what
they were, and if they were to be eaten; for it was only recently that
men had begun to raise these things in England in place of importing them
as luxuries from Holland. {1} His question was answered with grave
respect, and no surprise manifested. When he had finished his dessert,
he filled his pockets with nuts; but nobody appeared to be aware of it,
or disturbed by it. But the next moment he was himself disturbed by it,
and showed discomposure; for this was the only service he had been
permitted to do with his
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