[Illustration: Detail of the King of Barodia]
King Merriwig sat in his tent, his head held well back, his eyes gazing upwards. His rubicund cheeks were for the moment a snowy white. A hind of the name of Carlo had him firmly by the nose. Yet King Merriwig neither struggled nor protested; he was, in fact, being shaved.
The Court Barber was in his usual conversational mood. He released his Majesty's nose for a moment, and, as he turned to sharpen his razor, remarked,
"Terrible war, this."
"Terrible," agreed the King.
"Don't seem no end to it, like."
"Well, well," said Merriwig, "we shall see."
The barber got to work again.
"Do you know what I should do to the King of Barodia if I had him here?"
Merriwig did not dare to speak, but he indicated with his right eye that he was interested in the conversation.
"I'd shave his whiskers off," said Carlo firmly.
The King gave a sudden jerk, and for the moment there were signs of a battle upon the snow; then the King leant back again, and in another minute or so the operation was over.
"It will soon be all right," said Carlo, mopping at his Majesty's chin. "Your Majesty shouldn't have moved."
"It was my own fault, Carlo; you gave me a sudden idea, that's all."
"You're welcome, your Majesty."
As soon as he was alone the King took out his tablets. On these he was accustomed to record any great thoughts which occurred to him during the day. He now wrote in them these noble words:
"Jewels of wisdom may fall from the meanest of hinds."
He struck a gong to summon the Chancellor into his presence.
"I have a great idea," he told the Chancellor.
The Chancellor hid his surprise and expressed his pleasure.
"To-night I propose to pay a secret visit to his Majesty the King of Barodia. Which of the many tents yonder have my spies located as the royal one?"
"The big on in the centre, above which the Royal Arms fly."
"I thought as much. Indeed I have often seen his Majesty entering it. But one prefers to do these things according to custom. Acting on the information given me by my trusty spies, I propose to enter the King of Barodia's tent at the dead of night, and——"
The Chancellor shuddered in anticipation.
"And shave his whiskers off."
The Chancellor trembled with delight.
"Your Majesty," he said in a quavering voice, "forty years, man and boy, have I served your Majesty, and your Majesty's late lamented father, and never have I heard such a beautiful plan."
Merriwig struggled with himself for a moment, but his natural honesty was too much for him.
"It was put into my head by a remark of my Court Barber's," he said casually. "But of course the actual working out of it has been mine."
"Jewels of wisdom," said the Chancellor sententiously, "may fall from the meanest of hinds."
"I suppose," said Merriwig, taking up his tablets and absently scratching out the words written thereon, "there is nothing in the rules against it?"
"By no means, your Majesty. In the annuals of Euralia there are many instances of humour similar to that which your Majesty suggests: humour, if I may say so, which, while evidencing to the ignorant only the lighter side of war, has its roots in the most fundamental strategical considerations."
Merriwig regarded him with admiration. This was indeed a Chancellor.
"The very words," he answered, "which I said to myself when the idea came to me. 'The fact,' I said, 'that this will help us to win the war, must not disguise from us the fact that the King of Barodia will look extremely funny without his whiskers.' To-night I shall sally forth and put my plan into practice."
At midnight, then, he started out. The Chancellor awaited his return with some anxiety. This might well turn out to be the decisive stroke (or strokes) of the war. For centuries past the ruling monarchs of Barodia had been famous for their ginger whiskers. "As lost as the King of Barodia without his whiskers" was indeed a proverb of those times. A King without a pair, and at such a crisis in his country's fortunes! It was inconceivable. At the least he would have to live in retirement until they grew again, and without the leadership of their King the Barodian army would become a rabble.
The Chancellor was not distressed at the thought; he was looking forward to his return to Euralia, where he kept a comfortable house. It was not that his life in the field was uninteresting; he had as much work to do as any man. It was part of his business, for instance, to test the pretentions of any new wizard or spell-monger who was brought into the camp. Such and such a quack would seek an interview on the pretext that for five hundred crowns he could turn the King of Barodia into a small black pig. He would be brought before the Chancellor.
"You say that you can turn a man into a small black pig?" the Chancellor would ask.
"Yes, your lordship. It came to me from my grandmother."
"Then turn me," the Chancellor would say simply.
The so-called wizard would try. As soon as the incantation was over, the Chancellor surveyed himself in the mirror. Then he nodded to a couple of soldiers, and the impostor was tied backwards on to a mule and driven with jeers out of the camp. There were many such impostors (who at least made a mule out of it), and the Chancellor's life did not lack excitement.
But he yearned now for the simple comforts of his home. He liked pottering about his garden, when his work at the Palace was finished; he liked, over the last meal of the day, to tell his wife all the important things he had been doing since he had seen her, and to impress her with the fact that he was the holder of many state secrets which she must not attempt to drag from him. A woman of less tact would have considered the subject closed at this point, but she knew that he was only longing to be persuaded. However, as she always found the secrets too dull to tell any one else, no great harm was done.
"Just help me off with this cloak," said a voice in front of him.
The Chancellor felt about until his hands encountered a solid body. He undid the cloak and the King stood revealed before him.
"Thanks. Well, I've done it. It went to my heart to do it at the last moment, so beautiful they were, but I nerved myself to it. Poor soul, he slept like a lamb through it all. I wonder what he'll say when he wakes up."
"Did you bring them back with you?" asked the Chancellor excitedly.
"My dear Chancellor, what a question!" He produced them from his pocket. "In the morning we'll run them up on the flagstaff for all Barodia to see."
"He won't like that," said the Chancellor, chuckling.
"I don't quite see what he can do about it," said Merriwig.
* * * * *
The King of Barodia didn't quite see either.
A fit of sneezing woke him up that morning, and at the same moment he felt a curious draught about his cheeks. He put his hand up and immediately knew the worst.
"Hullo, there!" he bellowed to the sentry outside the door.
"Your Majesty," said the sentry, coming in with alacrity.
[Illustration: The tent seemed to swim before his eyes, and he knew no more, verso][Illustration: The tent seemed to swim before his eyes, and he knew no more, recto]
The King bobbed down again at once.
"Send the Chancellor to me," said an angry voice from under the bedclothes.
When the Chancellor came in it was to see the back only of his august monarch.
"Chancellor," said the King, "prepare yourself for a shock."
"Yes, sir," said the Chancellor, trembling exceedingly.
"You are about to see something which no man in the history of Barodia has ever seen before."
The Chancellor, not having the least idea what to expect, waited nervously. The next moment the tent seemed to swim before his eyes, and he knew no more. . . .
When he came to, the King was pouring a jug of water down his neck and murmuring rough words of comfort in his ear.
"Oh, your Majesty," said the poor Chancellor, "your Majesty! I don't know what to say, your Majesty." He mopped at himself as he spoke, and the water trickled from him on to the floor.
"Pull yourself together," said the King sternly. "We shall want all your wisdom, which is notoriously not much, to help us in this crisis."
"Your Majesty, who has dared to do this grievous thing?"
"You fool, how should I know? Do you think they did it while I was awake?"
The Chancellor stiffened a little. He was accustomed to being called a fool; but that was by a man with a terrifying pair of ginger whiskers. From the rather fat and uninspiring face in front of him he was inclined to resent it.
"What does your Majesty propose to do?" he asked shortly.
"I propose to do the following. Upon you rests the chief burden."
The Chancellor did not look surprised.
"It will be your part to break the news as gently as possible to my people. You will begin by saying that I am busy with a great enchanter who has called to see me, and that therefore I am unable to show myself to my people this morning. Later on in the day you will announce that the enchanter has shown me how to defeat the wicked Euralians; you will dwell upon the fact that this victory, as assured by him, involves an overwhelming sacrifice on my part, but that for the good of my people I am willing to endure it. Then you will solemnly announce that the sacrifice I am making, have indeed already made, is nothing less than—— What are all those fools cheering for out there?" A mighty roar of laughter rose to the sky. "Here, what's it all about? Just go and look."
The Chancellor went to the door of the tent—and saw.
He came back to the King, striving to speak casually.
"Just a humorous emblem that the Euralians have raised over their camp," he said. "It wouldn't amuse your Majesty."
"I am hardly in a mood for joking," said the King. "Let us return to business. As I was saying, you will announce to the people that the enormous sacrifice which their King is prepared to make for them consists of— There they go again. I must really see what it is. Just pull the door back so that I may see without being seen."
"It—it really wouldn't amuse your Majesty."
"Are you implying that I have no sense of humour?" said the King sternly.
"Oh, no, sire, but there are certain jokes, jokes in the poorest of taste, that would naturally not appeal to so delicate a palate as your Majesty's. This—er—strikes me as one of them."
"Of that I am the best judge," said the King coldly. "Open the door at once."
The Chancellor opened the door; and there before the King's eyes, flaunting themselves in the breeze beneath the Royal Standard of Euralia, waved his own beloved whiskers.
The King of Barodia was not a lovable man, and his daughters were decidedly plain, but there are moments when one cannot help admiring him. This was one of them.
"You may shut the door," he said to the Chancellor. "The instructions which I gave to you just now," he went on in the same cold voice, "are cancelled. Let me think for a moment." He began to walk up and down his apartment. "You may think, too," he added kindly. "If you have anything not entirely senseless to suggest, you may suggest it."
He continued his pacings. Suddenly he came to a dead stop. He was standing in front of a large mirror. For the first time since he was seventeen he had seen his face without whiskers. His eyes still fixed on his reflection, he beckoned the Chancellor to approach.
"Come here," he said, clutching him by the arm. "You see that?" He pointed to the reflection. "That is what I look like? The mirror hasn't made a mistake of any kind? That is really and truly what I look like?"
"Yes, sire."
For a little while the King continued to gaze fascinated at his reflection, and then he turned on the Chancellor.
"You coward!" he said. "You weak-kneed, jelly-souled, paper-livered imitation of a man! You cringe to a King who looks like that! Why, you ought tokickme."
The Chancellor remembered that he had one kick owing to him. He drew back his foot, and then a thought occurred to him.
"You might kick me back," he pointed out.
"I certainly should," said the King.
The Chancellor hesitated a moment.
"I think," he said, "that these private quarrels in the face of the common enemy are to be deplored."
The King looked at him, gave a short laugh, and went on walking up and down.
"That face again," he sighed as he came opposite the mirror. "No, it's no good; I can never be King like this. I shall abdicate."
"But, your Majesty, this is a very terrible decision. Could not your Majesty live in retirement until your Majesty had grown your Majesty's whiskers again? Surely this is——"
The King came to a stand opposite him and looked down on him gravely.
"Chancellor," he said, "those whiskers which you have just seen fluttering in the breeze have been for more than forty years my curse. For more than forty years I have had to live up to those whiskers, behaving, not as my temperament, which is a kindly, indeed a genial one, bade me to behave, but as those whiskers insisted I should behave. Arrogant, hasty-tempered, over-bearing—these are the qualities which have been demanded of the owner of those whiskers. I played a part which was difficult at first; of late, it has, alas! been more easy. Yet it has never been my true nature that you have seen."
He paused and looked silently at himself in the glass.
"But, your Majesty," said the Chancellor eagerly, "why choose this moment to abdicate? Think how your country will welcome this new King whom you have just revealed to me. And yet," he added regretfully, "it would not be quite the same."
The King turned round to him.
"There spoke a true Barodian," he said. "It would not be the same. Barodians have come to expect certain qualities from their rulers, and they would be lost without them. A new King might accustom them to other ways, but they are used to me, and they would not like me different. No, Chancellor, I shall abdicate. Do not wear so sad a face for me. I am looking forward to my new life with the greatest of joy."
The Chancellor was not looking sad for him; he was looking sad for himself, thinking that perhaps a new King might like changes in Chancellors equally with changes in manners or whiskers.
"But what will you do?" he asked.
"I shall be a simple subject of the new King, earning my living by my own toil."
The Chancellor raised his eyebrows at this.
"I suppose you think," said the King haughtily, "that I have not the intelligence to earn my own living."
The Chancellor with a cough remarked that the very distinguished qualities which made an excellent King did not always imply the corresponding—er—and so on.
"That shows how little you know about it. Just to give one example. I happen to know that I have in me the makings of an excellent swineherd."
"A swineherd?"
"The man who—er—herds the swine. It may surprise you to hear that, posing as a swineherd, I have conversed with another of the profession upon his own subject, without his suspecting the truth. It is just such a busy outdoor life as I should enjoy. One herds and one milks, and one milks, and—er—herds, and so it goes on day after day." A happy smile, the first the Chancellor had ever seen there, spread itself over his features. He clapped the Chancellor playfully on the back and added, "I shall simply love it."
The Chancellor was amazed. What a story for his dinner-parties when the war was over!
"How will you announce it?" he asked, and his tone struck a happy mean between the tones in which you address a monarch and a pig-minder respectively.
"That will be your duty. Now that I have shaken off the curse of those whiskers, I am no longer a proud man, but even a swineherd would not care for it to get about that he had been forcibly shaved while sleeping. That this should be the last incident recorded of me in Barodian history is unbearable. You will announce therefore that I have been slain in fair combat, though at the dead of night, by the King of Euralia, and that my whiskers fly over his royal tent as a symbol of his victory." He winked at the Chancellor and added, "It might as well get about that some one had stolen my Magic Sword that evening."
The Chancellor was speechless with admiration and approval of the plan. Like his brother of Euralia, he too was longing to get home again. The war had arisen over a personal insult to the King. If the King was no longer King, why should the war go on?
"I think," said the future swineherd, "that I shall send a Note over to the King of Euralia, telling him my decision. To-night, when it is dark, I shall steal away and begin my new life. There seems to be no reason why the people should not go back to their homes to-morrow. By the way, that guard outside there knows that I wasn't killed last night; that's rather awkward."
"I think," said the Chancellor, who was already picturing his return home, and was not going to be done out of it by a common sentry, "I think I could persuade him that youwerekilled last night."
"Oh, well, then, that's all right." He drew a ring from his finger. "Perhaps this will help him to be persuaded. Now leave me while I write to the King of Euralia."
It was a letter which Merriwig was decidedly glad to get. It announced bluntly that the war was over, and added that the King of Barodia proposed to abdicate. His son would rule in his stead, but he was a harmless fool, and the King of Euralia need not bother about him. The King would be much obliged if he would let it get about that the whiskers had been won in a fair fight; this would really be more to the credit of both of them. Personally he was glad to be rid of the things, but one has one's dignity. He was now retiring into private life, and if it were rumoured abroad that he had been killed by the King of Euralia matters would be much more easy to arrange.
Merriwig slept late after his long night abroad, and he found this Note waiting for him when he awoke. He summoned the Chancellor at once.
"What have you done about those—er—trophies?" he asked.
"They are fluttering from your flagstaff, sire, at this moment."
"Ah! And what do my people say?"
"They are roaring with laughter, sire, at the whimsical nature of the jest."
"Yes, but what do they say?"
"Some say that your Majesty, with great cunning, ventured privily in the night and cut them off while he slept; others, that with great bravery you defeated him in mortal combat and carried them away as the spoils of the victor."
"Oh! And what didyousay?"
The Chancellor looked reproachful.
"Naturally, your Majesty, I have not spoken with them."
"Ah, well, I have been thinking it over in the night, and I remember now that Ididkill him. You understand?"
"Your Majesty's skill in sword play will be much appreciated by the people."
"Quite so," said the King hastily. "Well, that's all—I'm getting up now. And we're all going home to-morrow."
The Chancellor went out, rubbing his hands with delight.
[Illustration: Small picture of a thin man carrying a large sack]
[Illustration: A small girl in medieval garb holds a large document
Do you remember the day when the Princess Hyacinth and Wiggs sat upon the castle walls and talked of Udo's coming? The Princess thought he would be dark, and Wiggs thought he would be fair, and he was to have the Purple Room—or was it the Blue?—and anyhow he was to put the Countess in her place and bring happiness to Euralia. That seemed a long time ago to Hyacinth now, as once more she sat on the castle walls with Wiggs.
She was very lovely. She longed to get rid of that "outside help in our affairs" which she had summoned so recklessly. They were two against one now. Belvane actively against her was bad enough; but Belvane in the background with Udo as her mouthpiece—Udo specially asked in to give the benefit of his counsel—this was ten times worse.
"What do you do, Wiggs?" she asked, "when you are very lonely and nobody loves you?"
"Dance," said Wiggs promptly.
"But if you don't want to dance?"
Wiggs tried to remember those dark ages (about a week ago) when she couldn't dance.
"I used to go into the forest," she said, "and sit under my own tree, and by and by everybody loved you."
"I wonder if they'd loveme."
"Of course they would. Shall I show you my special tree?"
"Yes, but don't come with me; tell me where it is. I want to be unhappy alone."
So Wiggs told her how you followed her special path, which went in at the corner of the forest, until by and by the trees thinned on either side, and it widened into a glade, and you went downhill and crossed the brook at the bottom and went up the other side until it was all trees again, and the first and the biggest and the oldest and the loveliest was hers. And you turned round and sat with your back against it, and looked across to where you'd come from, and then youknewthat everything was all right.
"I shall find it," said Hyacinth, as she got up. "Thank you, dear."
She found it, she sat there, and her heart was very bitter at first against Udo and against Belvane, and even against her father for going away and leaving her; but by and by the peace of the place wrapped itself around her, and she felt that she would find a way out of her difficulties somehow. Only she wished that her father would come back, because he loved her, and she felt that it would be nice to be loved again.
"It is beautiful, isn't it?" said a voice from behind her.
She turned suddenly, as a tall young man stepped out from among the trees.
"Oh, who are you, please?" she asked, amazed at his sudden appearance. His dress told her nothing, but his face told her things which she was glad to know.
"My name," he said, "is Coronel."
"It is a pretty name."
"Yes, but don't be led away by it. It belongs to nobody very particular. Do you mind if I sit down? I generally sit down here about this time."
"Oh, do you live in the forest?"
"I have lived here for the last week." He gave her a friendly smile, and added, "You're late, aren't you?"
"Late?"
"Yes, I've been expecting you for the last seven days."
"How did you know there was any me at all?" smiled Hyacinth.
With a movement of his hand Coronel indicated the scene in front of him.
"There had to besomebodyfor whom all this was made. It wanted somebody to say thank you to it now and then."
"Haven't you been doing that all this week?"
"Me? I wouldn't presume. No, it's your glade, and you've neglected it shamefully."
"There's a little girl who comes here," said Hyacinth. "I wonder if you have seen her?"
Coronel turned away. There were secret places in his heart into which Hyacinth could not come—yet.
"She danced," he said shortly.
There was silence between them for a little, but a comfortable silence, as if they were already old friends.
"You know," said Hyacinth, looking down at him as he lay at her feet, "you ought not to be here at all, really."
"I wish I could think that," said Coronel. "I had a horrible feeling that duty called me here. I love those places where one really oughtn't to be at all, don't you?"
"I love being here," sighed Hyacinth. "Wiggs was quite right." Seeing him look up at her she added, "Wiggs is the little girl who dances, you know."
"She would be right," said Coronel, looking away from her.
Hyacinth felt strangely rested. It seemed that never again would anything trouble her; never again would she have only her own strength to depend upon. Who was he? But it did not matter. He might go away and she might never see him again, but she was no longer afraid of the world.
"I thought," she said, "that all the men of Euralia were away fighting."
"So did I," said Coronel.
"What are you, then? A Prince from a distant country, an enchanter, a spy sent from Barodia, a travelling musician?—you see, I give you much to choose from."
"You leave me nothing to be but what I am—Coronel."
"And I am Hyacinth."
He knew, of course, but he made no sign.
"Hyacinth," he said, and he held out his hand.
"Coronel," she answered as she took it.
The brook chuckled to itself as it hurried past below them.
Hyacinth got up with a little sigh of contentment.
"Well, I must be going," she said.
"Must you really be going?" asked Coronel. "I wasn't saying good-bye, you know."
[Illustration: She turned round and went off daintily down the hill, verso][Illustration: She turned round and went off daintily down the hill, verso]
"I really must."
"It's a surprising thing about the view from here," said Coronel, "that it looks just as nice to-morrow. To-morrow about the same time."
"That's a very extraordinary thing," smiled Hyacinth.
"Yes, but it's one of those things that you don't want to take another person's word for."
"You think I ought to see for myself? Well, perhaps I will."
"Give me a whistle if I happen to be passing," said Coronel casually, "and tell me what you think. Good-bye, Hyacinth."
"Good-bye, Coronel."
She nodded her head confidently at him, and then turned round and went off daintily down the hill.
Coronel stared after her.
"WhatisUdo doing?" he murmured to himself. "But perhaps she doesn't like animals. A whole day to wait. How endless!"
If he had known that Udo, now on two legs again, was at that moment in Belvane's garden, trying to tell her, for the fifth time that week, about his early life in Araby, he would have been still more surprised.
We left Coronel, if you remember, in Araby. For three or four days he remained there, wondering how Udo was getting on, and feeling more and more that he ought to do something about it. On the fourth day he got on to his horse and rode off again. He simply must see what was happening. If Udo wanted to help, then he would be there to give it; if Udo was all right again, then he could go comfortably back to Araby.
To tell the truth, Coronel was a little jealous of his friend. A certain Prince Perivale, who had stayed at his uncle's court, had once been a suitor for Hyacinth's hand; but losing a competition with the famous seven-headed bull of Euralia, which Merriwig had arranged for him, had made no further headway with his suit. This Prince had had a portrait of Hyacinth specially done for him by his own Court Painter, a portrait which Coronel had seen. It was for this reason that he had at first objected to accompanying Udo to Euralia, and it was for this reason that he persuaded himself very readily that the claims of friendship called him there now.
For the last week he had been waiting in the forest. Now that he was there, he was not quite sure how to carry out his mission. So far there had been no sign of Udo, either on four legs or on two; it seemed probable that unless Coronel went to the Palace and asked for him, there would be no sign. And if he went to the Palace, and Udo was all right, and the Princess Hyacinth was in love with him, then the worst would have happened. He would have to stay there and help admire Udo—an unsatisfying prospect to a man in love. For he told himself by this time that he was in love with Hyacinth, although he had never seen her.
So he had waited in the forest, hoping for something to turn up; and first Wiggs had come . . . and now at last Hyacinth. He was very glad that he had waited.
She was there on the morrow.
"I knew you'd come," said Coronel. "It looks just as beautiful, doesn't it?"
"I think it's even more beautiful," said Hyacinth.
"You mean those little white clouds? That was my idea putting those in. I thought you'd like them."
"I wondered what you did all day. Does it keep you very busy?"
"Oh," said Coronel, "I have time for singing."
"Why do you sing?"
"Because I am young and the forest is beautiful."
"I have been singing this morning, too."
"Why?" asked Coronel eagerly.
"Because the war with Barodia is over."
"Oh!" said Coronel, rather taken aback.
"That doesn't interest you. Yet if you were a Euralian——"
"But it interests me extremely. Let us admire the scene for a moment, while I think. Look, there is another of my little clouds."
Coronel wondered what would happen now. If the King were coming back, then Udo would be wanted no longer save as a suitor for Hyacinth's hand. If, then, he returned, it would show that—— But suppose he was still an animal? It was doubtful if he would go back to Araby as an animal. And then there was another possibility: perhaps he had never come to Euralia at all. Here were a lot of questions to be answered, and here next to him was one who could answer them. But he must go carefully.
"Ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, a hundred," he said aloud. "There, I've finished my thinking and you've finished your looking."
"And what have you decided?" smiled Hyacinth.
"Decided?" said Coronel, rather startled. "Oh, no, I wasn't deciding anything, I was just thinking. I was thinking about animals."
"So was I."
"How very curious, and also how wrong of you. You were supposed to be admiring my clouds. What sort of animals were you thinking about?"
"Oh—all sorts."
"I was thinking about rabbits. Do you care for rabbits at all?"
"Not very much."
"Neither do I. They're so loppity. Do you like lions?"
"I think their tails are rather silly," said Hyacinth.
"Yes, perhaps they are. Now—a woolly lamb."
"I am not very fond of woolly lambs just now."
"No? Well, they're not very interesting. It's a funny thing," he went on casually, trying to steal a glance at her, "that we should be talking about those three animals, because I once met somebody who was a mixture of all three together at the same time."
"So did I," said Hyacinth gravely.
But he saw her mouth trembling, and suddenly she turned round and caught his eye, and then they burst out laughing together.
"Poor Udo," said Coronel; "and how is he looking now?"
"He is all right again now."
"All right again? Then why isn't he—— But I'm very glad he isn't."
"I didn't like him," said Hyacinth, blushing a little. And then she went on bravely, "But I think he found he didn't like me first."
"He wants humouring," said Coronel. "It's my business to humour him, it isn't yours."
Hyacinth looked at him with a new interest.
"Now I know who you are," she said. "He talked about you once."
"What did he say?" asked Coronel, obviously dying to know.
"He said you were good at poetry."
Coronel was a little disappointed. He would have preferred Hyacinth to have been told that he was good at dragons. However, they had met now and it did not matter.
"Princess," he said suddenly, "I expect you wonder what I am doing here. I came to see if Prince Udo was in need of help, and also to see if you were in need of help. Prince Udo was my friend, but if he has not been a friend of yours, then he is no longer a friend of mine. Tell me what has been happening here, and then tell me if in any way I can help you."
"You called me Hyacinth yesterday," she said, "and it is still my name."
"Hyacinth," said Coronel, taking her hand, "tell me if you want me at all."
"Thank you, Coronel. You see, Coronel, it's like this." And sitting beneath Wiggs's veteran of the forest, with Coronel lying at her feet, she told him everything.
"It seems easy enough," he said when she had finished. "You want Udo pushed out and the Countess put in her place. I can do the one while you do the other."
"Yes, but how do I push Prince Udo out?"
"That's whatI'mgoing to do."
"Yes, but, Coronel dear, if I could put the Countess in her place, shouldn't I have done it a long time ago? I don't think you quite know the sort of person she is. And I don't quite know what her place is either, which makes it rather had to put her into it. You see, I don't think I told you that—that Father is rather fond of her."
"I thought you said Udo was."
"They both are."
"Then how simple. We simply kill Udo, and—and—well, anyhow, there's one part of it done."
"Yes, but what about the other part?"
Coronel thought for a moment.
"Would it be simpler if we did it the other way around?" he said. "Killed the Countess and put Udo in his place."
"Father wouldn't like that at all, and he's coming back to-morrow."
Coronel didn't quite see the difficulty. If the King was in love with the Countess, he would marry her whatever Hyacinth did. And what was the good of putting her in her place for one day if her next place was to be on the throne.
Hyacinth guessed what he was thinking.
"Oh, don't you see," she cried, "she doesn't know that the King is coming back to-morrow. And if I can only just show her—I don't mind if it's only for an hour—that I am not afraid of her, and that she has got to take her orders from me, then I shan't mind so much all that has happened these last weeks. But if she is to have disregarded me all the time, if she is to have plotted against me from the very moment my father went away, and if nothing is to come to her for it but that she marries my father and becomes Queen of Euralia, then I can have no pride left, and I will be a Princess no longer."
"I must see this Belvane," said Coronel thoughtfully.
"Oh, Coronel, Coronel," cried Hyacinth, "ifyoufall in love with her, too, I think I shall die of shame!"
"Withher, Hyacinth?" he said, turning to her in amazement.
"Yes, you—I didn't—you never—I——" Her voice trailed away; she could not meet his gaze any longer; she dropped her eyes, and the next moment his arms were round her, and she knew that she would never be alone again.
[Illustration: Detail of Hyacinth presenting Coronel]
"And now," said Coronel, "we'd better decide what to do."
"But I don't mind what we do now," said Hyacinth happily. "She may have the throne and Father and Udo, and—and anything else she can get, and I shan't mind a bit. You see, I have gotyounow, Coronel, and I can never be jealous of anybody again."
"That's what makes it so jolly. We can do what we like, and it doesn't matter if it doesn't come off. So just for fun let's think of something to pay her out."
"I feel I don't want to hurt anybody to-day."
"All right, we won't hurt her, we'll humour her. We will be her most humble obedient servants. She shall have everything she wants."
"Including Prince Udo," smiled Hyacinth.
"That's a splendid idea. We'll make her have Udo. It will annoy your father, but one can't please everybody. Oh, I can see myself enjoying this."
They got up and wandered back along Wiggs's path, hand in hand.
"I'm almost afraid to leave the forest," said Hyacinth, "in case something happens."
"What should happen?"
"I don't know; but all our life together has been in the forest, and I'm just a little afraid of the world."
"I will be very close to you always, Hyacinth."
"Be very close, Coronel," she whispered, and then they walked out together.
If any of the servants at the Palace were surprised to see Coronel, they did not show it. After all, that was their business.
"Prince Coronel will be staying here," said the Princess. "Prepare a room for him and some refreshment for us both." And if they discussed those things in the servants' halls of those days (as why should they not?), no doubt they told each other that the Princess Hyacinth (bless her pretty face!) had found her man at last. Why, you only had to see her looking at him. But I get no assistance from Roger at this point; he pretends that he has a mind far above the gossip of the lower orders.
"I say," said Coronel, as they went up the grand staircase, "I am not a Prince, you know. Don't say I have deceived you."
"You aremyPrince," said Hyacinth proudly.
"My dear, I am a king among men to-day, and you are my queen, but that's in our own special country of two."
"If you are so particular," said Hyacinth, with a smile, "Father will make you a proper Prince directly he comes back."
"Will he? That's what I'm wondering. You see he doesn't know yet about our little present to the Countess."
* * * * *
But it is quite time we got back to Belvane; we have left her alone too long. It was more than Udo did. Just now he was with her in her garden, telling her for the fifth time an extraordinarily dull story about an encounter of his with a dragon, apparently in its dotage, to which Belvane was listening with an interest which surprised even the narrator.
"And then," said Udo, "I jumped quickly to the right, and whirling my—no, wait a bit, that was later—I jumped quickly to my left—yes, I remember it now, itwasmy left—I jumped quickly to my left, and whirling my——"
He stopped suddenly at the expression on Belvane's face. She was looking over his shoulder at something behind him.
"Why, whoever is this?" she said, getting to her feet.
Before Udo had completely cleared his mind of his dragon, the Princess and Coronel were upon them.
"Ah, Countess, I thought we should find you together," said Hyacinth archly. "Let me present to you my friend, the Duke Coronel. Coronel, this is Countess Belvane, a very dear and faithful friend of mine. Prince Udo, of course, you know. His Royal Highness and the Countess are—well, it isn't generally known at present, so perhaps I oughtn't to say anything."
Coronel made a deep bow to the astonished Belvane.
[Illustration: Let me present to you my friend the Duke Coronel, verso][Illustration: Let me present to you my friend the Duke Coronel, recto]
"Your humble servant," he said. "You will, I am sure, forgive me if I say how glad I am to hear your news. Udo is one of my oldest friends"—he turned and clapped that bewildered Highness on the back—"aren't you, Udo? and I can think of no one more suitable in every way." He bowed again, and turned back to the Prince. "Well, Udo, you're looking splendid. A different thing, Countess, from when I last saw him. Let me see, that must have been just the day before he arrived in Euralia. Ah, what a miracle-worker True Love is!"
I think one of the things which made Belvane so remarkable was that she was never afraid of remaining silent when she was not quite sure what to say. She waited therefore while she considered what all this meant; who Coronel was, what he was doing there, even whether a marriage with Udo was not after all the best that she could hope for now.
Meanwhile Udo, of course, blundered along gaily.
"We aren't exactly, Princess—I mean——What are you doing here, Coronel?—I didn't know, Princess, that you—— The Countess and I were just having a little—I was just telling her what you said about—How did you get here, Coronel?"
"Shall we tell him?" said Coronel, with a smile at Hyacinth.
Hyacinth nodded.
"I rode," said Coronel. "It's a secret," he added.
"But I didn't know that you——"
"We find that we have really known each other a very long time," explained Hyacinth.
"And hearing that there was to be a wedding," added Coronel——
Belvane made up her mind. Coronel was evidently a very different man from Udo. If he stayed in Euralia as adviser—more than adviser she guessed—to Hyacinth, her own position would not be in much doubt. And as for the King, it might be months before he came back, and when he did come would he remember her? But to be Queen of Araby was no mean thing.
"We didn't want it to be known yet," she said shyly, "but you have guessed our secret, your Royal Highness." She looked modestly at the ground, and, feeling for her reluctant lover's hand, went on, "Udo and I"—here she squeezed the hand, and, finding it was Coronel's, took Udo's boldly without any more maidenly nonsense—"Udo and I love each other."
"Say something, Udo," prompted Coronel.
"Er—yes," said Udo, very unwillingly, and deciding he would explain it all afterwards. Whatever his feelings for the Countess, he was not going to be rushed into a marriage.
"Oh, I'm so glad," said Hyacinth. "I felt somehow that it must be coming, because you've seen somuchof each other lately. Wiggs and I have often talked about it together."
("What has happened to the child?" thought Belvane. "She isn't a child at all, she's grown up.")
"There's no holding Udo once he begins," volunteered Coronel. "He's the most desperate lover in Araby.
"My father will be so excited when he hears," said Hyacinth. "You know, of course, that his Majesty comes back to-morrow with all his army."
She did not swoon or utter a cry. She did not plead the vapours or the megrims. She took unflinching what must have been the biggest shock in her life.
"Then perhaps I had better see that everything is ready in the Palace," she said, "if your Royal Highness will excuse me." And with a curtsey she was gone.
Coronel exchanged a glance with Hyacinth. "I'm enjoying this," he seemed to say.
"Well," she announced, "I must be going in, too. There'll be much to see about."
Coronel was left alone with the most desperate lover in Araby.
"And now," said the Prince, "tell me what you are doing here."
Coronel put his arm in Udo's and walked him up and down the flagged path.
"Your approaching marriage," he said, "is the talk of Araby. Naturally I had to come here to see for myself what she was like. My dear Udo, she's charming; I congratulate you."
"Don't be a fool, Coronel. I haven't the slightest intention of marrying her."
"Then why have you told everybody that you are going to?"
"You know quite well I haven't told anybody. There hasn't been a single word about it mentioned until you pushed your way in just now."
"Ah, well, perhaps you hadn't heard about it. But the Princess knows, the Countess knows, and I know—yes, I think you may take our word for it that it's true."
"I haven't the slightest intention—what do you keep clinging to my arm like this for?
"My dear Udo, I'm so delighted to see you again. Don't turn your back on old friendships just because you have found a nobler and a truer—— Oh, very well, if you're going to drop all your former friends, go on then. But whenI'mmarried, there will always be a place for——"
"Understand once and for all," said Udo angrily, "that I amnotgetting married. No, don't take my arm—we can talk quite well like this."
"I am sorry, Udo," said Coronel meekly; "we seem to have made a mistake. But you must admit we found you in a very compromising position."
"It wasn't in the least compromising," protested Udo indignantly. "As a matter of fact I was just telling her about that dragon I killed in Araby last year."
"Ah, and who would listen to a hopeless story like that, but the woman one was going to marry?"
"Once more, I am not going to marry her."
"Well, you must please yourself, but you have compromised her severely with that story. Poor innocent girl. Well, let's forget about it. And now tell me, how do you like Euralia?"
"I am returning to Araby this afternoon," said Udo stiffly.
"Well, perhaps you're right. I hope that nothing will happen to you on the way."
Udo, who was about to enter the Palace, turned round with a startled look.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, something happened on the way here. By the by, how did that happen? You never told me."
"Your precious Countess, whom you expect me to marry."
"How very unkind of her. A nasty person to annoy." He was silent for a moment, and then added thoughtfully, "I suppose itisrather annoying to think you're going to marry somebody whom you love very much, and then find you're not going to."
Udo evidently hadn't thought of this. He tried to show that he was not in the least frightened.
"She couldn't do anything. It was only by a lucky chance she did it last time."
"Yes, but of course the chance might come again. You'd have the thing hanging over you always. She's clever, you know; and I should never feel quite safe if she were my enemy. . . . Lovely flowers, aren't they? What's the name of this one?"
Udo dropped undecidedly into a seat. This wanted thinking out. The Countess—what was wrong with her, after all? And she evidently adored him. Of course that was not surprising; the question was, was it fair to disappoint one who had, perhaps, some little grounds for——? After all, he had been no more gallant than was customary from a Prince and a gentleman to a beautiful woman. It was her own fault if she had mistaken his intentions. Of course he ought to have left Euralia long ago. But he had stayed on, and—well, decidedly she was beautiful—perhaps he had paid rather too much attention to that. And he had certainly neglected the Princess a little. After all, again, why not marry the Countess? It was absurd to suppose there was anything in Coronel's nonsense, but one never knew. Not that he was marrying her out of fear. No; certainly not. It was simply a chivalrous whim on his part. The poor woman had misunderstood him, and she should not be disappointed.
"She seems fond of flowers," said Coronel. "You ought to make the Palace garden look beautiful between you."
"Now, understand clearly, Coronel, I'm not in the least frightened by the Countess."
"My dear Udo, what a speech for a lover! Of course you're not. After all, what you bore with such patience and dignity once, you can bear again."
"That subject is distasteful to me. I must ask you not to refer to it. If I marry the Countess——"
"You'll be a very lucky man," put in Coronel. "I happen to know that the King of Euralia—however, she's chosen you, it seems. Personally, I can't make out what she sees in you. What is it?"
"I should have thought it was quite obvious," said Udo with dignity. "Well, Coronel, I think perhaps you are right and that it's my duty to marry her."
Coronel shook him solemnly by the hand.
"I congratulate your Royal Highness. I will announce your decision to the Princess. She will be much amu—much delighted." And he turned into the Palace.
Pity him, you lovers. He had not seen Hyacinth for nearly ten minutes.