The Victorian Fairy Tale Book (Pantheon Fairy Tale & Folklore Library) (14 page)

“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!

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,

“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.

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 13
s
.6½
d.
, 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.”