The Prince and the Pauper, Mark Twain [best memoirs of all time .txt] 📗

strange and surprising an emergency. While all minds were struggling to right themselves, the boy still moved steadily forward, with high port and confident mien; he had never halted from the beginning; and while the tangled minds still floundered helplessly, he stepped upon the platform, and the mock-king ran with a glad face to meet him; and fell on his knees before him and said⁠—

“Oh, my lord the king, let poor Tom Canty be first to swear fealty to thee, and say, ‘Put on thy crown and enter into thine own again!’ ”

The Lord Protector’s eye fell sternly upon the newcomer’s face; but straightway the sternness vanished away, and gave place to an expression of wondering surprise. This thing happened also to the other great officers. They glanced at each other, and retreated a step by a common and unconscious impulse. The thought in each mind was the same: “What a strange resemblance!”

The Lord Protector reflected a moment or two in perplexity, then he said, with grave respectfulness⁠—

“By your favor, sir, I desire to ask certain questions which⁠—”

“I will answer them, my lord.”

The Duke asked him many questions about the Court, the late king, the prince, the princesses⁠—the boy answered them correctly and without hesitating. He described the rooms of state in the palace, the late king’s apartments, and those of the Prince of Wales.

It was strange; it was wonderful; yes, it was unaccountable⁠—so all said that heard it. The tide was beginning to turn, and Tom Canty’s hopes to run high, when the Lord Protector shook his head and said⁠—

“It is true it is most wonderful⁠—but it is no more than our lord the king likewise can do.” This remark, and this reference to himself as still the king, saddened Tom Canty, and he felt his hopes crumbling from under him. “These are not proofs,” added the Protector.

The tide was turning very fast now, very fast indeed⁠—but in the wrong direction; it was leaving poor Tom Canty stranded on the throne, and sweeping the other out to sea. The Lord Protector communed with himself⁠—shook his head⁠—the thought forced itself upon him, “It is perilous to the State and to us all, to entertain so fateful a riddle as this; it could divide the nation and undermine the throne.” He turned and said⁠—

“Sir Thomas, arrest this⁠—No, hold!” His face lighted, and he confronted the ragged candidate with this question⁠—

“Where lieth the Great Seal? Answer me this truly, and the riddle is unriddled; for only he that was Prince of Wales can so answer! On so trivial a thing hang a throne and a dynasty!”

It was a lucky thought, a happy thought. That it was so considered by the great officials was manifested by the silent applause that shot from eye to eye around their circle in the form of bright approving glances. Yes, none but the true prince could dissolve the stubborn mystery of the vanished Great Seal⁠—this forlorn little impostor had been taught his lesson well, but here his teachings must fail, for his teacher himself could not answer that question⁠—ah, very good, very good indeed; now we shall be rid of this troublesome and perilous business in short order! And so they nodded invisibly and smiled inwardly with satisfaction, and looked to see this foolish lad stricken with a palsy of guilty confusion. How surprised they were, then, to see nothing of the sort happen⁠—how they marvelled to hear him answer up promptly, in a confident and untroubled voice, and say⁠—

“There is nought in this riddle that is difficult.” Then, without so much as a by-your-leave to anybody, he turned and gave this command, with the easy manner of one accustomed to doing such things: “My Lord St. John, go you to my private cabinet in the palace⁠—for none knoweth the place better than you⁠—and, close down to the floor, in the left corner remotest from the door that opens from the antechamber, you shall find in the wall a brazen nailhead; press upon it and a little jewel-closet will fly open which not even you do know of⁠—no, nor any soul else in all the world but me and the trusty artisan that did contrive it for me. The first thing that falleth under your eye will be the Great Seal⁠—fetch it hither.”

All the company wondered at this speech, and wondered still more to see the little mendicant pick out this peer without hesitancy or apparent fear of mistake, and call him by name with such a placidly convincing air of having known him all his life. The peer was almost surprised into obeying. He even made a movement as if to go, but quickly recovered his tranquil attitude and confessed his blunder with a blush. Tom Canty turned upon him and said, sharply⁠—

“Why dost thou hesitate? Hast not heard the king’s command? Go!”

The Lord St. John made a deep obeisance⁠—and it was observed that it was a significantly cautious and noncommittal one, it not being delivered at either of the kings, but at the neutral ground about halfway between the two⁠—and took his leave.

Now began a movement of the gorgeous particles of that official group which was slow, scarcely perceptible, and yet steady and persistent⁠—a movement such as is observed in a kaleidoscope that is turned slowly, whereby the components of one splendid cluster fall away and join themselves to another⁠—a movement which, little by little, in the present case, dissolved the glittering crowd that stood about Tom Canty and clustered it together again in the neighborhood of the newcomer. Tom Canty stood almost alone. Now ensued a brief season of deep suspense and waiting⁠—during which even the few faint hearts still remaining near Tom Canty gradually scraped together courage enough to glide, one by one, over to the majority. So at last Tom Canty, in his royal robes and jewels, stood wholly alone and isolated from the world, a conspicuous figure, occupying an eloquent vacancy.

Now the Lord St. John was seen returning. As he advanced up the mid-aisle the