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The Rose and the Ring

Page 4

by William Makepeace Thackeray

throne-room, awaiting the Prince of Crim Tartary. Princess

  Angelica sat at their feet, and behind the King's chair stood

  Prince Giglio, looking very savage.

  The Prince of Crim Tartary made his appearance, attended by Baron

  Sleibootz, his chamberlain, and followed by a black page carrying

  the most beautiful crown you ever saw! He was dressed in his

  travelling costume, and his hair, as you see, was a little in

  disorder. 'I have ridden three hundred miles since breakfast,'

  said he, 'so eager was I to behold the Prin--the Court and august

  family of Paflagonia, and I could not wait one minute before

  appearing in Your Majesties' presences.'

  Giglio, from behind the throne, burst out into a roar of

  contemptuous laughter; but all the Royal party, in fact, were so

  flurried, that they did not hear this little outbreak. 'Your R.

  H. is welcome in any dress,' says the King. 'Glumboso, a chair

  for His Royal Highness.'

  'Any dress His Royal Highness wears IS a Court dress,' says

  Princess Angelica, smiling graciously.

  'Ah! but you should see my other clothes,' said the Prince. 'I

  should have had them on, but that stupid carrier has not brought

  them. Who's that laughing?'

  It was Giglio laughing. 'I was laughing,' he said, 'because you

  said just now that you were in such a hurry to see the Princess,

  that you could not wait to change your dress; and now you say you

  come in those clothes because you have no others.'

  'And who are you?' says Prince Bulbo, very fiercely.

  'My father was King of this country, and I am his only son,

  Prince!' replies Giglio, with equal haughtiness.

  'Ha!' said the King and Glumboso, looking very flurried; but the

  former, collecting himself, said, 'Dear Prince Bulbo, I forgot to

  introduce to Your Royal Highness my dear nephew, His Royal

  Highness Prince Giglio! Know each other! Embrace each other!

  Giglio, give His Royal Highness your hand!' and Giglio, giving

  his hand, squeezed poor Bulbo's until the tears ran out of his

  eyes. Glumboso now brought a chair for the Royal visitor, and

  placed it on the platform on which the King, Queen, and Prince

  were seated; but the chair was on the edge of the platform, and

  as Bulbo sat down, it toppled over, and he with it, rolling over

  and over, and bellowing like a bull. Giglio roared still louder

  at this disaster, but it was with laughter; so did all the Court

  when Prince Bulbo got up; for though when he entered the room he

  appeared not very ridiculous, as he stood up from his fall for a

  moment he looked so exceedingly plain and foolish, that nobody

  could help laughing at him. When he had entered the room, he was

  observed to carry a rose in his hand, which fell out of it as he

  tumbled.

  'My rose! my rose!' cried Bulbo; and his chamberlain dashed

  forwards and picked it up, and gave it to the Prince, who put it

  in his waistcoat. Then people wondered why they had laughed;

  there was nothing particularly ridiculous in him. He was rather

  short, rather stout, rather red-haired, but, in fine, for a

  Prince, not so bad.

  So they sat and talked, the Royal personages together, the Crim

  Tartar officers with those of Paflagonia--Giglio very comfortable

  with Gruffanuff behind the throne. He looked at her with such

  tender eyes, that her heart was all in a flutter. 'Oh, dear

  Prince,' she said, 'how could you speak so haughtily in presence

  of Their Majesties? I protest I thought I should have fainted.'

  'I should have caught you in my arms,' said Giglio, looking

  raptures.

  'Why were you so cruel to Prince Bulbo, dear Prince?' says Gruff.

  'Because I hate him,' says Gil.

  'You are jealous of him, and still love poor Angelica,' cries

  Gruffanuff, putting her handkerchief to her eyes.

  'I did, but I love her no more!' Giglio cried. 'I despise her!

  Were she heiress to twenty thousand thrones, I would despise her

  and scorn her. But why speak of thrones? I have lost mine. I

  am too weak to recover it--I am alone, and have no friend.'

  'Oh, say not so, dear Prince!' says Gruffanuff.

  'Besides,' says he, 'I am so happy here BEHIND THE THRONE that I

  would not change my place, no, not for the throne of the world!'

  'What are you two people chattering about there?' says the Queen,

  who was rather good-natured, though not overburthened with

  wisdom. 'It is time to dress for dinner. Giglio, show Prince

  Bulbo to his room. Prince, if your clothes have not come, we

  shall be very happy to see you as you are.' But when Prince

  Bulbo got to his bedroom, his luggage was there and unpacked; and

  the hairdresser coming in, cut and curled him entirely to his own

  satisfaction; and when the dinner-bell rang, the Royal company

  had not to wait above five-and-twenty minutes until Bulbo

  appeared, during which time the King, who could not bear to wait,

  grew as sulky as possible. As for Giglio, he never left Madam

  Gruffanuff all this time, but stood with her in the embrasure of

  a window, paying her compliments. At length the Groom of the

  Chambers announced His Royal Highness the Prince of Crim Tartary!

  and the noble company went into the royal dining-room. It was

  quite a small party; only the King and Queen, the Princess, whom

  Bulbo took out, the two Princes, Countess Gruffanuff, Glumboso

  the Prime Minister, and Prince Bulbo's chamberlain. You may be

  sure they had a very good dinner--let every boy or girl think of

  what he or she likes best, and fancy it on the table.*

  *Here a very pretty game may be played by all the children saying

  what they like best for dinner.

  The Princess talked incessantly all dinner-time to the Prince of

  Crimea, who ate an immense deal too much, and never took his eyes

  off his plate, except when Giglio, who was carving a goose, sent

  a quantity of stuffing and onion sauce into one of them. Giglio

  only burst out a-laughing as the Crimean Prince wiped his

  shirt-front and face with his scented pocket-handkerchief. He

  did not make Prince Bulbo any apology. When the Prince looked at

  him, Giglio would not look that way. When Prince Bulbo said,

  'Prince Giglio, may I have the honour of taking a glass of wine

  with you?' Giglio WOULDN'T answer. All his talk and his eyes

  were for Countess Gruffanuff, who you may be sure was pleased

  with Giglio's attentions--the vain old creature! When he was not

  complimenting her, he was making fun of Prince Bulbo, so loud

  that Gruffanuff was always tapping him with her fan, and

  saying--'Oh, you satirical Prince! Oh, fie, the Prince will

  hear!' 'Well, I don't mind,' says Giglio, louder still. The

  King and Queen luckily did not hear; for Her Majesty was a little

  deaf, and the King thought so much about his own dinner, and,

  besides, made such a dreadful noise, hobgobbling in eating it,

  that he heard nothing else. After dinner, His Majesty and the

  Queen went to sleep in their arm-chairs.

  This was the time when Giglio began
his tricks with Prince Bulbo,

  plying that young gentleman with port, sherry, madeira,

  champagne, marsala, cherry-brandy, and pale ale, of all of which

  Master Bulbo drank without stint. But in plying his guest,

  Giglio was obliged to drink himself, and, I am sorry to say, took

  more than was good for him, so that the young men were very

  noisy, rude, and foolish when they joined the ladies after

  dinner; and dearly did they pay for that imprudence, as now, my

  darlings, you shall hear!

  Bulbo went and sat by the piano, where Angelica was playing and

  singing, and he sang out of tune, and he upset the coffee when

  the footman brought it, and he laughed out of place, and talked

  absurdly, and fell asleep and snored horridly. Booh, the nasty

  pig! But as he lay there stretched on the pink satin sofa,

  Angelica still persisted in thinking him the most beautiful of

  human beings. No doubt the magic rose which Bulbo wore caused

  this infatuation on Angelica's part; but is she the first young

  woman who has thought a silly fellow charming?

  Giglio must go and sit by Gruffanuff, whose old face he, too,

  every moment began to find more lovely. He paid the most

  outrageous compliments to her:--There never was such a

  darling--Older than he was?--Fiddle-de-dee! He would marry

  her--he would have nothing but her!

  To marry the heir to the throne! Here was a chance! The artful

  hussy actually got a sheet of paper, and wrote upon it, 'This is

  to give notice that I, Giglio, only son of Savio, King of

  Paflagonia, hereby promise to marry the charming and virtuous

  Barbara Griselda, Countess Gruffanuff, and widow of the late

  Jenkins Gruffanuff, Esq.'

  'What is it you are writing, you charming Gruffy?' says Giglio,

  who was lolling on the sofa, by the writing-table.

  'Only an order for you to sign, dear Prince, for giving coals and

  blankets to the poor, this cold weather. Look! the King and

  Queen are both asleep, and your Royal Highness's order will do.'

  So Giglio, who was very good-natured, as Gruffy well knew, signed

  the order immediately; and, when she had it in her pocket, you

  may fancy what airs she gave herself. She was ready to flounce

  out of the room before the Queen herself, as now she was the wife

  of the RIGHTFUL King of Paflagonia! She would not speak to

  Glumboso, whom she thought a brute, for depriving her DEAR

  HUSBAND of the crown! And when candles came, and she had helped

  to undress the Queen and Princess, she went into her own room,

  and actually practiced on a sheet of paper, 'Griselda

  Paflagonia,' 'Barbara Regina,' 'Griselda Barbara, Paf. Reg.,' and

  I don't know what signatures besides, against the day when she

  should be Queen, forsooth!

  IX. HOW BETSINDA GOT THE WARMING PAN

  Little Betsinda came in to put Gruffanuff's hair in papers; and

  the Countess was so pleased, that, for a wonder, she complimented

  Betsinda. 'Betsinda!' she said, 'you dressed my hair very nicely

  today; I promised you a little present. Here are five sh--no,

  here is a pretty little ring, that I picked-- that I have had

  some time.' And she gave Betsinda the ring she had picked up in

  the court. It fitted Betsinda exactly.

  'It's like the ring the Princess used to wear,' says the maid.

  'No such thing,' says Gruffanuff, 'I have had it this ever so

  long. There, tuck me up quite comfortable; and now, as it's a

  very cold night (the snow was beating in at the window), you may

  go and warm dear Prince Giglio's bed, like a good girl, and then

  you may unrip my green silk, and then you can just do me up a

  little cap for the morning, and then you can mend that hole in my

  silk stocking, and then you can go to bed, Betsinda. Mind I

  shall want my cup of tea at five o'clock in the morning.'

  'I suppose I had best warm both the young gentlemen's beds,

  Ma'am,' says Betsinda.

  Gruffanuff, for reply, said, 'Hau-au-ho!--Grauhawhoo!--Hong-

  hrho!' In fact, she was snoring sound asleep.

  Her room, you know, is next to the King and Queen, and the

  Princess is next to them. So pretty Betsinda went away for the

  coals to the kitchen, and filled the royal warming-pan.

  Now, she was a very kind, merry, civil, pretty girl; but there

  must have been something very captivating about her this evening,

  for all the women in the servants' hall began to scold and abuse

  her. The housekeeper said she was a pert, stuck-up thing: the

  upper-housemaid asked, how dare she wear such ringlets and

  ribbons, it was quite improper! The cook (for there was a

  woman-cook as well as a man-cook) said to the kitchen-maid that

  she never could see anything in that creetur: but as for the

  men, every one of them, Coachman, John, Buttons, the page, and

  Monsieur, the Prince of Crim Tartary's valet, started up, and

  said--

  'My eyes!' }

  'O mussey!' } 'What a pretty girl Betsinda is!'

  'O jemmany!' }

  'O ciel!' }

  'Hands off; none of your impertinence, you vulgar, low people!'

  says Betsinda, walking off with her pan of coals. She heard the

  young gentlemen playing at billiards as she went upstairs: first

  to Prince Giglio's bed, which she warmed, and then to Prince

  Bulbo's room.

  He came in just as she had done; and as soon as he saw her, 'O!

  O! O! O! O! O! what a beyou--oo--ootiful creature you are! You

  angel--you peri--you rosebud, let me be thy bulbul--thy Bulbo,

  too! Fly to the desert, fly with me! I never saw a young

  gazelle to glad me with its dark blue eye that had eyes like

  shine. Thou nymph of beauty, take, take this young heart. A

  truer never did itself sustain within a soldier's waistcoat. Be

  mine! Be mine! Be Princess of Crim Tartary! My Royal father

  will approve our union; and, as for that little carroty-haired

  Angelica, I do not care a fig for her any more.'

  'Go away, Your Royal Highness, and go to bed, please,' said

  Betsinda, with the warming-pan.

  But Bulbo said, 'No, never, till thou swearest to be mine, thou

  lovely, blushing chambermaid divine! Here, at thy feet, the

  Royal Bulbo lies, the trembling captive of Betsinda's eyes.'

  And he went on, making himself SO ABSURD AND RIDICULOUS, that

  Betsinda, who was full of fun, gave him a touch with the

  warming-pan, which, I promise you, made him cry 'O-o-o-o!' in a

  very different manner.

  Prince Bulbo made such a noise that Prince Giglio, who heard him

  from the next room, came in to see what was the matter. As soon

  as he saw what was taking place, Giglio, in a fury, rushed on

  Bulbo, kicked him in the rudest manner up to the ceiling, and

  went on kicking him till his hair was quite out of curl.

  Poor Betsinda did not know whether to laugh or to cry; the

  kicking certainly must hurt the Prince, but then he looked so

  droll! When Giglio had done knocking him up and down to the

  ground, and whilst he went into a corner rubbing himself, what do

  you think Giglio do
es? He goes down on his own knees to

  Betsinda, takes her hand, begs her to accept his heart, and

  offers to marry her that moment. Fancy Betsinda's condition, who

  had been in love with the Prince ever since she first saw him in

  the palace garden, when she was quite a little child.

  'Oh, divine Betsinda!' says the Prince, 'how have I lived fifteen

  years in thy company without seeing thy perfections? What woman

  in all Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, nay, in Australia, only

  it is not yet discovered, can presume to be thy equal? Angelica?

  Pish! Gruffanuff? Phoo! The Queen? Ha, ha! Thou art my

  Queen. Thou art the real Angelica, because thou art really

  angelic.'

  'Oh, Prince! I am but a poor chambermaid,' says Betsinda,

  looking, however, very much pleased.

  'Didst thou not tend me in my sickness, when all forsook me?'

  continues Giglio. 'Did not thy gentle hand smooth my pillow, and

  bring me jelly and roast chicken?'

  'Yes, dear Prince, I did,' says Betsinda, 'and I sewed Your Royal

  Highness's shirt-buttons on too, if you please, Your Royal

  Highness,' cries this artless maiden.

  When poor Prince Bulbo, who was now madly in love with Betsinda,

  heard this declaration, when he saw the unmistakable glances

  which she flung upon Giglio, Bulbo began to cry bitterly, and

  tore quantities of hair out of his head, till it all covered the

  room like so much tow.

  Betsinda had left the warming-pan on the floor while the princes

  were going on with their conversation, and as they began now to

  quarrel and be very fierce with one another, she thought proper

  to run away.

  'You great big blubbering booby, tearing your hair in the corner

  there; of course you will give me satisfaction for insulting

  Betsinda. YOU dare to kneel down at Princess Giglio's knees and

  kiss her hand!'

  'She's not Princess Giglio!' roars out Bulbo. 'She shall be

  Princess Bulbo, no other shall be Princess Bulbo.'

  'You are engaged to my cousin!' bellows out Giglio. 'I hate your

  cousin,' says Bulbo.

  'You shall give me satisfaction for insulting her!' cries Giglio

  in a fury.

  'I'll have your life.'

  'I'll run you through.'

  'I'll cut your throat.'

  'I'll blow your brains out.'

  'I'll knock your head off.'

  'I'll send a friend to you in the morning.'

  'I'll send a bullet into you in the afternoon.'

  'We'll meet again,' says Giglio, shaking his fist in Bulbo's

  face; and seizing up the warming-pan, he kissed it, because,

  forsooth, Betsinda had carried it, and rushed downstairs. What

  should he see on the landing but His Majesty talking to Betsinda,

  whom he called by all sorts of fond names. His Majesty had heard

  a row in the building, so he stated, and smelling something

  burning, had come out to see what the matter was.

  'It's the young gentlemen smoking, perhaps, sir,' says Betsinda.

  'Charming chambermaid,' says the King (like all the rest of

  them), 'never mind the young men! Turn thy eyes on a middle-aged

  autocrat, who has been considered not ill-looking in his time.'

  'Oh, sir! what will Her Majesty say?' cries Betsinda.

  'Her Majesty!' laughs the monarch. 'Her Majesty be hanged. Am I

  not Autocrat of Paflagonia? Have I not blocks, ropes, axes,

  hangmen--ha? Runs not a river by my palace wall? Have I not

  sacks to sew up wives withal? Say but the word, that thou wilt

  be mine own,--your mistress straightway in a sack is sewn, and

  thou the sharer of my heart and throne.'

  When Giglio heard these atrocious sentiments, he forgot the

  respect usually paid to Royalty, lifted up the warming-pan, and

  knocked down the King as flat as a pancake; after which, Master

  Giglio took to his heels and ran away, and Betsinda went off

  screaming, and the Queen, Gruffanuff, and the Princess, all came

  out of their rooms. Fancy their feelings on beholding their

  husband, father, sovereign, in this posture!

  X. HOW KING VALOROSO WAS IN A DREADFUL PASSION

  As soon as the coals began to burn him, the King came to himself

  and stood up. 'Ho! my captain of the guards!' His Majesty

  exclaimed, stamping his royal feet with rage. O piteous

 

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