The Victorian Fairy Tale Book (Pantheon Fairy Tale & Folklore Library)

by Hearn, Michael Patrick

  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 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 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!”

&nbs
p; 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 forgotten 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.

  “Yes, you and your bride—your affianced love—your Gruffy!” says the Countess, with a languishing leer.

  “You my bride!” says Giglio. “You, you hideous old woman!”

  “Oh, you—you wretch! didn’t you give me this paper promising marriage?” cries Gruff.

  “Get away, you old goose! I love Betsinda, and Betsinda only!” And in a fit of terror he ran from her as quickly as he could.

  “He! he! he!” shrieks out Gruff; “a promise is a promise if there are laws in Paflagonia! And as for that monster, that wretch, that fiend, that ugly little vixen—as for that upstart, that ingrate, that beast Betsinda, Master Giglio will have no little difficulty in discovering her whereabouts. He may look very long before finding her, I warrant. He little knows that Miss Betsinda is—”

  Is—what? Now, you shall hear. Poor Betsinda got up at five on a winter’s morning to bring her cruel mistress her tea; and instead of finding her in a good humour, found Gruffy as cross as two sticks. The Countess boxed Betsinda’s ears half-a-dozen times whilst she was dressing; but as poor little Betsinda was used to this kind of treatment, she did not feel any special alarm. “And now,” says she, “when her Majesty rings her bell twice, I’ll trouble you, miss, to attend.”

  So when the Queen’s bell rang twice, Betsinda came to her Majesty and made a pretty little curtsey. The Queen, the Princess, and Gruffanuff were all three in the room. As soon as they saw her they began.

  “You wretch!” says the Queen.

  “You little vulgar thing!” says the Princess.

  “You beast!” says Gruffanuff.

  “Get out of my sight!” says the Queen.

  “Go away with you, do!” says the Princess.

  “Quit the premises!” says Gruffanuff.

  Alas! and woe is me! very lamentable events had occurred to Betsinda that morning, and all in consequence of that fatal warming-pan business of the previous night. The King had offered to marry her; of course her Majesty the Queen was jealous: Bulbo had fallen in love with her; of course Angelica was furious: Giglio was in love with her, and oh, what a fury Gruffy was in!

  began tearing the clothes off poor Betsinda.

  Princess, and Countess.

  “Give her the rags she wore when she came into the house, and turn her out of it!” cries the Queen.

  “Mind she does not go with my shoes on, which I lent her so kindly,” says the Princess; and indeed the Princess’s shoes were a great deal too big for Betsinda.

  “Come with me, you filthy hussy!” and taking up the Queen’s poker, the cruel Gruffanuff drove Betsinda into her room.

  The Countess went to the glass box in which she had kept Betsinda’s old cloak and shoe this ever so long, and said, “Take those rags, you little beggar creature, and strip off everything belonging to honest people, and go about your business;” and she actually tore off the poor little delicate thing’s back almost all her things, and told her to be off out of the house.

  Poor Betsinda huddled the cloak round her back, on which were embroidered the letters PRIN.… ROSAL … and then came a great rent.

  As for the shoe, what was she to do with one poor little tootsey sandal? The string was still to it, so she hung it round her neck.

  “Won’t you give me a pair of shoes to go out in the snow, mum, if you please, mum?” cried the poor child.

  “No, you wicked beast!” says Gruffanuff, driving her along with the poker—driving her down the cold stairs—driving her through the cold hall—flinging her out into the cold street, so that the knocker itself shed tears to see her!

  But a kind fairy made the soft snow warm for her little feet, and she wrapped herself up in the ermine of her mantle, and was gone!

  “And now let us think about breakfast,” says the greedy Queen.

  “What dress shall I put on, mamma? the pink or the pea-green?” says Angelica. “Which do you think the dear Prince will like best?”

  “Mrs. V.!” sings out the King from his dressing-room, “let us have sausages for breakfast! Remember we have Prince Bulbo staying with us!”

  And they all went to get ready.

  Nine o’clock came, and they were all in the breakfast-room, and no Prince Bulbo as yet. The urn was hissing and humming: the muffins were smoking—such a heap of muffins! the eggs were done, there was a pot of raspberry jam, and coffee, and a beautiful chicken and tongue on the side-table. Marmitonio the cook brought in the sausages. Oh, how nice they smelt!

  “Where is Bulbo?” said the King. “John, where is his Royal Highness?”

  John said he had a took up his Roilighnessesses shaving-water, and his clothes and things, and he wasn’t in his room, which he sposed his Royliness was just stepped hout.

  “Stepped out before breakfast in the snow! Impossible!” says the King, sticking his fork into a sausage. “My dear, take one Angelica, won’t you have a saveloy?” The Princess took one, being very fond of them; and at this moment Glumboso entered with Captain Hedzoff, both looking very much disturbed.

  “I am afraid your Majesty—” cries Glumboso.

  “No business before breakfast, Glum!” says the King. “Breakfast first, business next. Mrs. V., some more sugar!”

  “Sire, I am afraid if we wait till after breakfast it will be too late,” says Glumboso. “He—he—he’ll be hanged at half-past nine.”

  “Don’t talk about hanging and spoil my breakfast, you unkind vulgar man you,” cries the Princess. “John, some mustard. Pray who is to be hanged?”

  “Sire, it is the Prince,” whispers Glumboso to the King.

  “Talk about business after breakfast, I tell you!” says his Majesty, quite sulky.

  “We shall have a war, sire, depend on it,” says the Minister. “His father, King Padella …”

  “His father, King who?” says the King. “King Padella is not Giglio’s father. My brother, King Savio, was Giglio’s father.”

  “It’s Prince Bulbo they are hanging, sire, not Prince Giglio,” says the Prime Minister.

  “You told me to hang the Prince, and I took the ugly one,” says Hedzoff. “I didn’t, of course, think your Majesty intended to murder your own flesh and blood!”

  The King for all reply flung the plate of sausages at Hedzoff’s head.
The Princess cried out “Hee-karee-karee!” and fell down in a fainting-fit.

  “Turn the cock of the urn upon her Royal Highness,” said the King, and the boiling water gradually revived her. His Majesty looked at his watch, compared it by the clock in the parlour, and by that of the church in the square opposite; then he wound it up; then he looked at it again. “The great question is,” says he, “am I fast or am I slow? If I’m slow, we may as well go on with breakfast. If I’m fast, why, there is just the possibility of saving Prince Bulbo. It’s a doosid awkward mistake, and upon my word, Hedzoff, I have the greatest mind to have you hanged too.”

  “Sire, I did but my duty; a soldier has but his orders. I didn’t expect after forty-seven years of faithful service that my sovereign would think of putting me to a felon’s death!”

  “A hundred thousand plagues upon you! Can’t you see that while you are talking my Bulbo is being hanged?” screamed the Princess.

  “By Jove! she’s always right, that girl, and I’m so absent,” says the King, looking at his watch again. “Ha! Hark, there go the drums! What a doosid awkward thing though!”

  “O papa, you goose! Write the reprieve, and let me run with it,” cries the Princess—and she got a sheet of paper, and pen and ink, and laid them before the King.

  “Confound it! where are my spectacles?” the Monarch exclaimed. “Angelica! Go up into my bedroom, look under my pillow, not your mamma’s; there you’ll see my keys. Bring them down to me, and—Well, well! what impetuous things these girls are!” Angelica was gone, and had run up panting to the bedroom, and found the keys, and was back again before the King had finished a muffin. “Now, love,” says he, “you must go all the way back for my desk, in which my spectacles are. If you would but have heard me out … Be hanged to her! There she is off again. Angelica! ANGELICA!” When his Majesty called in his loud voice, she knew she must obey, and came back.

  “My dear, when you go out of a room, how often have I told you, shut the door. That’s a darling. That’s all.” At last the keys and the desk and the spectacles were got, and the King mended his pen, and signed his name to a reprieve, and Angelica ran with it as swift as the wind. “You’d better stay, my love, and finish the muffins. There’s no use going. Be sure it’s too late. Hand me over that raspberry jam, please,” said the Monarch. “Bong! Bawong! There goes the half-hour. I knew it was.”