The Pobratim Part 43

"I'm used to it," said the premier.

"Well! do you persist in your intention?" asked the King at the end of the speech.

"I do!" quoth the Prince.

"Then I'll light you up to my daughter's door."

Having reached the landing of the second floor, the King shook hands with the Prince and his followers; he wished them good-night; still, he lingered for a while on the threshold.

Mathias was dazzled with the superhuman beauty of the royal maiden, who was quite a garden in herself, for she was as lithe as a lily, as graceful as a waving bough, with a complexion like jasmines and roses, eyes like forget-me-nots, a mouth like a cherry, b.r.e.a.s.t.s like pomegranates, and as sweet a breath as mignonette.

She could not hide the admiration she felt for Mathias, and congratulated him especially on never having written a book.

When the old King heard that Mathias was not an author, he was so sorely troubled that he took up his candle and went off to bed.

No sooner had His Majesty taken himself off than The Big One went and crouched on the threshold of the door; The Long One made himself comfortable on one of the window-sills; The Man with the Flas.h.i.+ng Eyes on the other. All three pretended to go off to sleep, but in reality they were all watching the Princess, who was carrying on a lively conversation with Mathias.

"Do you like Schopenhauer?" asked the royal maiden, with a smile like a peach blossom opening its petals to the breeze.

"I like you," said Mathias, looking deep in the eyes of the young girl, who at once blushed demurely.

"But you don't answer my question," she said.

"Well, no," quoth Mathias; "I don't like Schopenhauer."

"Why not?"

"Because we differ in tastes."

"How so?"

"You see, I'm rather fond of the girls; he isn't."

"Of all girls?" asked the Princess, alarmed.

"All girls in general, but you in particular," added Mathias with a wink.

The young girl thought it advisable to change the conversation.

After a while the Princess began to yawn.

"Sleepy, eh?" said Mathias, with a smile.

"I feel as if a rain of poppies was weighing down my eyelids."

"Have a snooze, then."

"I'm afraid you'll feel rather lonely, sitting up by yourself all night."

"Oh! don't mind me," said Mathias; "I never turn in very early; besides, I'll have a game of _patience_."

"But I've got no cards to offer you," said the Princess.

"I have; I never travel without a pack in my pocket."

"You're sharp."

"Sharper than many who think themselves sharp."

Mathias settled himself comfortably at a table and began to play. The Princess undressed, said her prayers, then went off to bed.

The Prince played one, two, three games; then he felt his throat rather dry, and would have given half of his kingdom for a gla.s.s of grog; than he began to wonder if there was any whisky in the house.

Just then, he heard the three men snoring, and the little Princess purring away like a wee kitten. He stretched his arms and his legs, for he felt himself getting stiff. He then tried to play another game, but he could not go on with it; for he kept mistaking the hearts for the diamonds, and then could no more distinguish the clubs from the spades. He also began to feel chilly, and was sorry not to have his mammy's shawl to wrap himself up in. He, therefore, laid his elbows on the table, and his head between the palms of his hands, and stared at the Princess, whom he fancied looked very much like the sleeping beauty at the waxworks.

Little by little his eyelids waxed heavy, his pupils got to be smaller and smaller, his sight grew blurred, and then everything in front of him disappeared. Prince Mathias was snoring majestically.

"It took him a long time to drop off, but he's asleep at last," said the Princess, with a sigh.

She thereupon changed herself into the likeness of a dove, and flew out of the window where The Long One was asleep. Only, on making her escape, she happened to graze the sleeping man's hair. He forthwith started up, and, seeing that the Princess's bed was empty, he at once gave the alarm, and woke The Man with the Flas.h.i.+ng Eyes, who cast a long look in the darkness outside. That burning glance falling upon the dove's wings singed them in such a way that she was obliged to take shelter in a neighbouring tree. The Man with the Flas.h.i.+ng Eyes kept a sharp watch, and the splendour of his pupils, s.h.i.+ning on the bird, were like the revolving rays of a lighthouse. The Long One thereupon put his head out of the window, stretched out his hand a mile off, grasped the dove, and quietly handed her to Mathias.

No sooner had Mathias pressed the dove to his heart than, lo and behold! he found that he was clasping in his arms, not a bird, but the Princess herself.

Mathias could not help uttering a loud exclamation of surprise; the three men uttered the selfsame exclamation. All at once the door of the Princess's bedroom flew open with a bang. The old King appeared on the threshold, with a dip in his hand. His Majesty looked very much put out.

"I say, what's all this row about?" said he; "billing and cooing at this time of the night, eh?" Thereupon His Majesty frowned.

The Princess nestled in Mathias's arms, blus.h.i.+ng like a peony, for she saw that the flowing sleeves of her nightgown were dreadfully singed, and she knew that the colour would never go off in the wash.

The King, casting a stealthy look round the room, saw the cards on the little table by the Princess's bed, and pointing them out to Mathias with a jerk of his thumb:

"I see your little tricks, sir, and with your own cards, too; gambling again, eh?"

Mathis looked as sheepish as a child caught with his finger in a jam-pot. The King thereupon snuffed the wick of his candle with his own royal fingers, picked up the ermine-bordered train of his night-gown and stalked off to bed, without even saying good-night again.

"Your father's put out," said Mathias to the Princess.

"He's thinking of the expense you'll be putting him to, you and your suite."

"What! is he going to ask us to dinner?"

"Can't help it, can he?" and the Princess chuckled.

On the second night the Princess flew away in the likeness of a fly; but she was soon brought back. On the third night she transformed herself into a little fish, and gave the three men no end of trouble to fish her out of the pond in which she had plunged.

At last the Princess confessed herself vanquished. Mathias had been the only one of all her suitors who had managed to get her back every time she had escaped; moreover, she had been quite smitten by his jovial character and convivial ways.

The old King, however, strenuously disapproved of his daughter's choice. Mathias was not a _Durchlaucht_, he had never written a book, and, moreover, he played _patience_ with his own pack of cards. He, therefore, resolved to oppose his daughter's marriage, and, being an autocrat, his will was law in his own country.