There they found the Prince, sitting calmly on the floor--deadly pale, indeed, for he expected a quite different end from this, and was resolved, if he had to die, to die courageously, like a Prince and a King.
But when they hailed him as Prince and King, and explained to him how matters stood, and went down on their knees before him, offering the crown (on a velvet cushion, with four golden tassels, each nearly as big as his head),--small though he was and lame, which lameness the courtiers pretended not to notice, --there came such a glow into his face, such a dignity into his demeanor, that he became beautiful, king-like.
"Yes," he said, "if you desire it, I will be your king. And I will do my best to make my people happy."Then there arose, from inside and outside the tower, such a shout as never yet was heard across the lonely plain.
Prince Dolor shrank a little from the deafening sound. "How shall I be able to rule all this great people? You forget, my lords, that I am only a little boy still.""Not so very little," was the respectful answer. "We have searched in the records, and found that your Royal Highness--your Majesty, I mean--is fifteen years old.""Am I?" said Prince Dolor; and his first thought was a thoroughly childish pleasure that he should now have a birthday, with a whole nation to keep it. Then he remembered that his childish days were done. He was a monarch now. Even his nurse, to whom, the moment he saw her, he had held out his hand, kissed it reverently, and called him ceremoniously "his Majesty the King.""A king must be always a king, I suppose," said he half-sadly, when, the ceremonies over, he had been left to himself for just ten minutes, to put off his boy's clothes and be reattired in magnificent robes, before he was conveyed away from his tower to the royal palace.
He could take nothing with him; indeed, he soon saw that, however politely they spoke, they would not allow him to take anything. If he was to be their king, he must give up his old life forever. So he looked with tender farewell on his old books, old toys, the furniture he knew so well, and the familiar plain in all its levelness--ugly yet pleasant, simply because it was familiar.
"It will be a new life in a new world," said he to himself; "but I'll remember the old things still. And, oh! if before I go I could but once see my dear old godmother."While he spoke he had laid himself down on the bed for a minute or two, rather tired with his grandeur, and confused by the noise of the trumpets which kept playing incessantly down below. He gazed, half sadly, up to the skylight, whence there came pouring a stream of sunrays, with innumerable motes floating there, like a bridge thrown between heaven and earth. Sliding down it, as if she had been made of air, came the little old woman in gray.
So beautiful looked she--old as she was--that Prince Dolor was at first quite startled by the apparition. Then he held out his arms in eager delight.
"Oh, godmother, you have not forsaken me!"
"Not at all, my son. You may not have seen me, but I have seen you many a time.""How?"
"Oh, never mind. I can turn into anything I please, you know. And I have been a bearskin rug, and a crystal goblet--and sometimes I have changed from inanimate to animate nature, put on feathers, and made myself very comfortable as a bird.""Ha!" laughed the prince, a new light breaking in upon him as he caught the infection{sic} of her tone, lively and mischievous. "Ha! ha! a lark, for instance?""Or a magpie," answered she, with a capital imitation of Mistress Mag's croaky voice. "Do you suppose I am always sentimental, and never funny? If anything makes you happy, gay, or grave, don't you think it is more than likely to come through your old godmother?""I believe that," said the boy tenderly, holding out his arms. They clasped one another in a close embrace.
Suddenly Prince Dolor looked very anxious.
"You will not leave me now that I am a king?
Otherwise I had rather not be a king at all.
Promise never to forsake me!"
The little old woman laughed gayly. "Forsake you? that is impossible. But it is just possible you may forsake me. Not probable though. Your mother never did, and she was a queen. The sweetest queen in all the world was the Lady Dolorez.""Tell me about her," said the boy eagerly.
"As I get older I think I can understand more.
Do tell me."
"Not now. You couldn't hear me for the trumpets and the shouting. But when you are come to the palace, ask for a long-closed upper room, which looks out upon the Beautiful Mountains; open it and take it for your own.
Whenever you go there you will always find me, and we will talk together about all sorts of things.""And about my mother?"
The little old woman nodded--and kept nodding and smiling to herself many times, as the boy repeated over and over again the sweet words he had never known or understood--"my mother--my mother.""Now I must go," said she, as the trumpets blared louder and louder, and the shouts of the people showed that they would not endure any delay. "Good-by, good-by! Open the window and out I fly."Prince Dolor repeated gayly the musical rhyme--but all the while tried to hold his godmother fast.
Vain, vain! for the moment that a knocking was heard at his door the sun went behind a cloud, the bright stream of dancing motes vanished, and the little old woman with them--he knew not where.
So Prince Dolor quitted his tower--which he had entered so mournfully and ignominiously as a little helpless baby carried in the deaf-mute's arms--quitted it as the great King of Nomansland.
The only thing he took away with him was something so insignificant that none of the lords, gentlemen, and soldiers who escorted him with such triumphant splendor could possibly notice it--a tiny bundle, which he had found lying on the floor just where the bridge of sunbeams had rested. At once he had pounced upon it, and thrust it secretly into his bosom, where it dwin-dled into such small proportions that it might have been taken for a mere chest-comforter, a bit of flannel, or an old pocket-handkerchief.
It was his traveling-cloak!
