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.
“O you satirical Prince! O 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, hob-gobbling in eating it, that he heard nothing else. After dinner, his Majesty and the Queen went to sleep in their armchairs.
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 practised, 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 to-day; 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!—Grau-haw-hoo!—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—
“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! 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 thine. 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 carrotty-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 certinly 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 does? 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 perfecti
ons? 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 spectacle! the King’s nose was bent quite crooked by the blow of Prince Giglio! His Majesty ground his teeth with rage. “Hedzoff,” he said, taking a death-warrant out of his dressing-gown pocket, “Hedzoff, good Hedzoff, seize upon the Prince. Thou’lt find him in his chamber two pair up. But now he dared, with sacrilegious hand, to strike the sacred nightcap of a king—Hedzoff, and floor me with a warming-pan! Away, no more demur, the villain dies! see it be done, or else—h’m!—ha!—h’m! mind thine own eyes!” and followed by the ladies, and lifting up the tails of his dressing-gown, the King entered his own apartment.
Captain Hedzoff was very much affected, having a sincere love for Giglio. “Poor, poor Giglio!” he said, the tears rolling over his manly face, and dripping down his moustachios; “my noble young Prince, is it my hand must lead thee to death?”
“Lead him to fiddlestick, Hedzoff,” said a female voice. It was Gruffanuff, who had come out in her dressing-gown when she heard the noise. “The King said you were to hang the Prince. Well, hang the Prince.”
“I don’t understand you,” says Hedzoff, who was not a very clever man.
“You Gaby! he didn’t say which Prince,” says Gruffanuff.
“No; he didn’t say which, certainly,” said Hedzoff.
“Well then, take Bulbo, and hang him!”
When Captain Hedzoff heard this, he began to dance about for joy. “Obedience is a soldier’s honour,” says he. “Prince Bulbo’s head will do capitally,” and he went to arrest the Prince the very first thing next morning.
He knocked at the door. “Who’s there?” says Bulbo. “Captain Hedzoff? step in, pray, my good Captain; I’m delighted to see you; I have been expecting you.”
“Have you?” says Hedzoff.
“Sleibootz, my Chamberlain, will act for me,” says the Prince.
“I beg your Royal Highness’s pardon, but you will have to act for yourself, and it’s a pity to wake Baron Sleibootz.”
The Prince Bulbo still seemed to take the matter very coolly. “Of course, Captain,” says he, “you are come about that affair with Prince Giglio?”
“Precisely,” says Hedzoff, “that affair of Prince Giglio.”
“Is it to be pistols, or swords, Captain?” asks Bulbo. “I’m a pretty good hand with both, and I’ll do for Prince Giglio as sure as my name is my Royal Highness Prince Bulbo.”
“There’s some mistake, my Lord,” says the Captain. “The business is done with axes among us.”
“Axes? That’s sharp work,” says Bulbo. “Call my Chamberlain, he’ll be my second, and in ten minutes, I flatter myself, you’ll see Master Giglio’s head off his impertinent shoulders. I’m hungry for his blood. Hoo-oo, aw!” and he looked as savage as an ogre.
“I beg your pardon, sir, but by this warrant I am to take you prisoner, and hand you over to—to the executioner.”
“Pooh, pooh, my good man!—Stop, I say—ho!—hulloa!” was all that this luckless Prince was able to say, for Hedzoff’s guards seizing him, tied a handkerchief over his mouth and face, and carried him to the place of execution.
The King, who happened to be talking to Glumboso, saw him pass and took a pinch of snuff, and said, “So much for Giglio. Now let’s go to breakfast.”
The Captain of the Guard handed over his prisoner to the Sheriff, with the fatal order,
AT SIGHT CUT OFF THE BEARER’S HEAD.
VALOROSO XXIV
“It’s a mistake,” says Bulbo, who did not seem to understand the business in the least.
“Poo—poo—pooh,” says the Sheriff. “Fetch Jack Ketch instantly. Jack Ketch!”
And poor Bulbo was led to the scaffold, where an executioner with a block and a tremendous axe was always ready in case he should be wanted.
But we must now revert to Giglio and Betsinda.
XI
What Gruffanuff Did to Giglio and Betsinda
Gruffanuff, who had seen what had happened with the King, and knew that Giglio must come to grief, got up very early the next morning, and went to devise some plans for rescuing her darling husband, as the silly old thing insisted on calling him. She found him, walking up and down the garden, thinking of a rhyme for Betsinda (tinder and winda were all he could find), and indeed having forgot
ten all about the past evening, except that Betsinda was the most lovely of beings.
“Well, dear Giglio,” says Gruff.
“Well, dear Gruffy,” says Giglio, only he was quite satirical.
“I have been thinking, darling, what you must do in this scrape. You must fly the country for a while.”
“What scrape?—fly the country? Never without her I love, Countess,” says Giglio.
“No, she will accompany you, dear Prince,” she says, in her most coaxing accents. “First, we must get the jewels belonging to your royal parents, and those of her and his present Majesty. Here is the key, duck; they are all yours, you know, by right, for you are the rightful King of Paflagonia, and your wife will be the rightful Queen.”
“Will she?” says Giglio.
“Yes; and having got the jewels, go to Glumboso’s apartment, where, under his bed, you will find sacks containing money to the amount of £217,000,000,987,439 13s.6½d., all belonging to you, for he took it out of your royal father’s room on the day of his death. With this we will fly.”
“We will fly?” says Giglio.
The Victorian Fairy Tale Book (The Pantheon Fairy Tale and Folklore Library) Page 10
