LITMIR.BIZ

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my mamma! A princess is nothing to a queen!"

      "I wish he would like me," said Curdie, "for then I might watch by him at night, and let you go to bed, princess."

      "Don't you know then?" returned Irene, in wonder. "How was it you came?—Ah! you said my grandmother sent you. But I thought you knew that he wanted you."

      And again she opened wide her blue stars.

      "Not I," said Curdie, also bewildered, but very glad.

      "He used to be constantly saying—he was not so ill then as he is now—that he wished he had you about him."

      "And I never to know it!" said Curdie, with displeasure.

      "The master of the horse told papa's own secretary that he had written to the miner-general to find you and send you up; but the miner-general wrote back to the master of the horse, and he told the secretary, and the secretary told my father, that they had searched every mine in the kingdom and could hear nothing of you. My father gave a great sigh, and said he feared the goblins had got you after all, and your father and mother were dead of grief. And he has never mentioned you since, except when wandering. I cried very much. But one of my grandmother's pigeons with its white wing flashed a message to me through the window one day, and then I knew that my Curdie wasn't eaten by the goblins, for my grandmother wouldn't have taken care of him one time to let him be eaten the next. Where were you, Curdie, that they couldn't find you?"

      "We will talk about that another time, when we are not expecting the doctor," said Curdie.

      As he spoke, his eyes fell upon something shining on the table under the lamp. His heart gave a great throb, and he went nearer.—Yes, there could be no doubt;—it was the same flagon that the butler had filled in the wine-cellar.

      "It looks worse and worse!" he said to himself, and went back to Irene, where she stood half dreaming.

      "When will the doctor be here?" he asked once more—this time hurriedly.

      The question was answered—not by the princess, but by something which that instant tumbled heavily into the room. Curdie flew towards it in vague terror about Lina.

      On the floor lay a little round man, puffing and blowing, and uttering incoherent language. Curdie thought of his mattock, and ran and laid it aside.

      "Oh, dear Dr. Kelman!" cried the princess, running up and taking hold of his arm; "I am so sorry!" She pulled and pulled, but might almost as well have tried to set up a cannon-ball. "I hope you have not hurt yourself?"

      "Not at all, not at all," said the doctor, trying to smile and to rise both at once, but finding it impossible to do either.

      "If he slept on the floor he would be late for breakfast," said Curdie to himself, and held out his hand to help him.

      But when he took hold of it, Curdie very nearly let him fall again, for what he held was not even a foot: it was the belly of a creeping thing. He managed, however, to hold both his peace and his grasp, and pulled the doctor roughly on his legs—such as they were.

      "Your royal highness has rather a thick mat at the door," said the doctor, patting his palms together. "I hope my awkwardness may not have startled his majesty."

      While he talked Curdie went to the door: Lina was not there.

      The doctor approached the bed.

      "And how has my beloved king slept to-night?" he asked.

      "No better," answered Irene, with a mournful shake of her head.

      "Ah, that is very well!" returned the doctor, his fall seeming to have muddled either his words or his meaning. "We must give him his wine, and then he will be better still."

      Curdie darted at the flagon, and lifted it high, as if he had expected to find it full, but had found it empty.

      "That stupid butler! I heard them say he was drunk!" he cried in a loud whisper, and was gliding from the room.

      "Come here with that flagon, you! page!" cried the doctor.

      Curdie came a few steps towards him with the flagon dangling from his hand, heedless of the gushes that fell noiseless on the thick carpet.

      "Are you aware, young man," said the doctor, "that it is not every wine can do his majesty the benefit I intend he should derive from my prescription?"

      "Quite aware, sir," answered Curdie. "The wine for his majesty's use is in the third cask from the corner."

      "Fly, then," said the doctor, looking satisfied.

      Curdie stopped outside the curtain and blew an audible breath—no more: up came Lina noiseless as a shadow. He showed her the flagon.

      "The cellar, Lina: go," he said.

      She galloped away on her soft feet, and Curdie had indeed to fly to keep up with her. Not once did she make even a dubious turn. From the king's gorgeous chamber to the cold cellar they shot. Curdie dashed the wine down the back stair, rinsed the flagon out as he had seen the butler do, filled it from the cask of which he had seen the butler drink, and hastened with it up again to the king's room.

      The little doctor took it, poured out a full glass, smelt, but did not taste it, and set it down. Then he leaned over the bed, shouted in the king's ear, blew upon his eyes, and pinched his arm: Curdie thought he saw him run something bright into it. At last the king half woke. The doctor seized the glass, raised his head, poured the wine down his throat, and let his head fall back on the pillow again. Tenderly wiping his beard, and bidding the princess good-night in paternal tones, he then took his leave. Curdie would gladly have driven his pick into his head, but that was not in his commission, and he let him go.

      The little round man looked very carefully to his feet as he crossed the threshold.

      "That attentive fellow of a page has removed the mat," he said to himself, as he walked along the corridor. "I must remember him."

      Chapter XX.

       Counter-Plotting

       Table of Contents

      Curdie was already sufficiently enlightened as to how things were going, to see that he must have the princess of one mind with him, and they must work together. It was clear that amongst those about the king there was a plot against him: for one thing, they had agreed in a lie concerning himself; and it was plain also that the doctor was working out a design against the health and reason of his majesty, rendering the question of his life a matter of little moment. It was in itself sufficient to justify the worst fears, that the people outside the palace were ignorant of his majesty's condition: he believed those inside it also—the butler excepted—were ignorant of it as well. Doubtless his majesty's councillors desired to alienate the hearts of his subjects from their sovereign. Curdie's idea was that they intended to kill the king, marry the princess to one of themselves, and found a new dynasty; but whatever their purpose, there was treason in the palace of the worst sort: they were making and keeping the king incapable, in order to effect that purpose. The first thing to be seen to therefore was, that his majesty should neither eat morsel nor drink drop of anything prepared for him in the palace. Could this have been managed without the princess, Curdie would have preferred leaving her in ignorance of the horrors from which he sought to deliver her. He feared also the danger of her knowledge betraying itself to the evil eyes about her; but it must be risked—and she had always been a wise child.

      Another thing was clear to him—that with such traitors no terms of honour were either binding or possible, and that, short of lying, he might use any means to foil them. And he could not doubt that the old princess had sent him expressly to frustrate their plans.

      While he stood thinking thus with himself, the princess was earnestly watching the king, with looks of childish love and womanly tenderness that went to Curdie's heart. Now and then with a great fan of peacock feathers she would fan him very softly; now and then, seeing a cloud begin to gather upon the sky

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