The Rose and the Ring Read online

bow. 'She is beautiful enough, in my eyes, without any

  enchanted aid.'

  'Oh, sir!' said Rosalba.

  'Take off the ring and try,' said the King, and resolutely drew

  the ring off her finger. In HIS eyes she looked just as

  handsome as before!

  The King was thinking of throwing the ring away, as it was so

  dangerous and made all the people so mad about Rosalba; but

  being a Prince of great humour, and good humour too, he cast

  eyes upon a poor youth who happened to be looking on very

  disconsolately, and said--

  'Bulbo, my poor lad! come and try on this ring. The Princess

  Rosalba makes it a present to you.'

  The magic properties of this ring were uncommonly strong, for

  no sooner had Bulbo put it on, but lo and behold, he appeared a

  personable, agreeable young Prince enough--with a fine

  complexion, fair hair, rather stout, and with bandy legs; but

  these were encased in such a beautiful pair of yellow morocco

  boots that nobody remarked them. And Bulbo's spirits rose up

  almost immediately after he had looked in the glass, and he

  talked to their Majesties in the most lively, agreeable manner,

  and danced opposite the Queen with one of the prettiest maids

  of honour, and after looking at Her Majesty, could not help

  saying--

  'How very odd! she is very pretty, but not so EXTRAORDINARILY

  handsome.'

  'Oh no, by no means!' says the Maid of Honour.

  'But what care I, dear sir,' says the Queen, who overheard

  them, 'if YOU think I am good-looking enough?'

  His Majesty's glance in reply to this affectionate speech was

  such that no painter could draw it. And the Fairy Blackstick

  said, 'Bless you, my darling children! Now you are united and

  happy; and now you see what I said from the first, that a

  little misfortune has done you both good. YOU, Giglio, had you

  been bred in prosperity, would scarcely have learned to read or

  write--you would have been idle and extravagant, and could not

  have been a good King as now you will be. You, Rosalba, would

  have been so flattered, that your little head might have been

  turned like Angelica's, who thought herself too good for

  Giglio.'

  'As if anybody could be good enough for HIM,' cried Rosalba.

  'Oh, you, you darling!' says Giglio. And so she was; and he

  was just holding out his arms in order to give her a hug before

  the whole company, when a messenger came rushing in, and said,

  'My Lord, the enemy!'

  'To arms!' cries Giglio.

  'Oh, mercy!' says Rosalba, and fainted of course.

  He snatched one kiss from her lips, and rushed FORTH TO THE

  FIELD of battle!

  The Fairy had provided King Giglio with a suit of armour, which

  was not only embroidered all over with jewels, and blinding to

  your eyes to look at, but was water-proof, gun-proof, and

  sword-proof; so that in the midst of the very hottest battles

  His Majesty rode about as calmly as if he had been a British

  Grenadier at Alma. Were I engaged in fighting for my country,

  _I_ should like such a suit of armour as Prince Giglio wore;

  but, you know, he was a Prince of a fairy tale, and they always

  have these wonderful things.

  Besides the fairy armour, the Prince had a fairy horse, which

  would gallop at any pace you pleased; and a fairy sword, which

  would lengthen and run through a whole regiment of enemies at

  once. With such a weapon at command, I wonder, for my part, he

  thought of ordering his army out; but forth they all came, in

  magnificent new uniforms, Hedzoff and the Prince's two college

  friends each commanding a division, and His Majesty prancing in

  person at the head of them all.

  Ah! if I had the pen of a Sir Archibald Alison, my dear

  friends, would I not now entertain you with the account of a

  most tremendous shindy? Should not fine blows be struck?

  dreadful wounds be delivered? arrows darken the air? cannon

  balls crash through the battalions? cavalry charge infantry?

  infantry pitch into cavalry? bugles blow; drums beat; horses

  neigh; fifes sing; soldiers roar, swear, hurray; officers shout

  out 'Forward, my men!' 'This way, lads!' 'Give it 'em, boys!'

  'Fight for King Giglio, and the cause of right!' 'King Padella

  for ever!' Would I not describe all this, I say, and in the

  very finest language too? But this humble pen does not possess

  the skill necessary for the description of combats. In a word,

  the overthrow of King Padella's army was so complete, that if

  they had been Russians you could not have wished them to be

  more utterly smashed and confounded.

  As for that usurping monarch, having performed acts of velour

  much more considerable than could be expected of a royal

  ruffian and usurper, who had such a bad cause, and who was so

  cruel to women,--as for King Padella, I say, when his army ran

  away, the King ran away too, kicking his first general, Prince

  Punchikoff, from his saddle, and galloping away on the Prince's

  horse, having, indeed, had twenty-five or twenty-six of his own

  shot under him. Hedzoff coming up, and finding Punchikoff

  down, as you may imagine, very speedily disposed of HIM.

  Meanwhile King Padella was scampering off as hard as his horse

  could lay legs to ground. Fast as he scampered, I promise you

  somebody else galloped faster; and that individual, as no doubt

  you are aware, was the Royal Giglio, who kept bawling out,

  'Stay, traitor! Turn, miscreant, and defend thyself! Stand,

  tyrant, coward, ruffian, royal wretch, till I cut thy ugly head

  from thy usurping shoulders!' And, with his fairy sword, which

  elongated itself at will, His Majesty kept poking and prodding

  Padella in the back, until that wicked monarch roared with

  anguish.

  When he was fairly brought to bay, Padella turned and dealt

  Prince Giglio a prodigious crack over the sconce with his

  battle-axe, a most enormous weapon, which had cut down I don't

  know how many regiments in the course of the afternoon. But,

  Law bless you! though the blow fell right down on His Majesty's

  helmet, it made no more impression than if Padella had struck

  him with a pat of butter: his battle-axe crumpled up in

  Padella's hand, and the Royal Giglio laughed for very scorn at

  the impotent efforts of that atrocious usurper.

  At the ill success of his blow the Crim Tartar monarch was

  justly irritated. 'If,' says he to Giglio, 'you ride a fairy

  horse, and wear fairy armour, what on earth is the use of my

  hitting you? I may as well give myself up a prisoner at once.

  Your Majesty won't, I suppose, be so mean as to strike a poor

  fellow who can't strike again?'

  The justice of Padella's remark struck the magnanimous Giglio.

  'Do you yield yourself a prisoner, Padella?' says he.

  'Of course I do,' says Padella.

  'Do you acknowledge Rosalba as your rightful Queen, and give up

  the crown and all your treasures to your rightful mistress?'

  'If I must, I must,' says Pade
lla, who was naturally very

  sulky.

  By this time King Giglio's aides-de-camp had come up, whom His

  Majesty ordered to bind the prisoner. And they tied his hands

  behind him, and bound his legs tight under his horse, having

  set him with his face to the tail; and in this fashion he was

  led back to King Giglio's quarters, and thrust into the very

  dungeon where young Bulbo had been confined.

  Padella (who was a very different person in the depth of his

  distress, to Padella, the proud wearer of the Crim Tartar

  crown), now most affectionately and earnestly asked to see his

  son--his dear eldest boy--his darling Bulbo; and that

  good-natured young man never once reproached his haughty parent

  for his unkind conduct the day before, when he would have left

  Bulbo to be shot without any pity, but came to see his father,

  and spoke to him through the grating of the door, beyond which

  he was not allowed to go; and brought him some sandwiches from

  the grand supper which His Majesty was giving above stairs, in

  honour of the brilliant victory which had just been achieved.

  'I cannot stay with you long, sir,' says Bulbo, who was in his

  best ball dress, as he handed his father in the prog, 'I am

  engaged to dance the next quadrille with Her Majesty Queen

  Rosalba, and I hear the fiddles playing at this very moment.'

  So Bulbo went back to the ball-room and the wretched Padella

  ate his solitary supper in silence and tears.

  All was now joy in King Giglio's circle. Dancing, feasting,

  fun, illuminations, and jollifications of all sorts ensued.

  The people through whose villages they passed were ordered to

  illuminate their cottages at night, and scatter flowers on the

  roads during the day. They were requested, and I promise you

  they did not like to refuse, to serve the troops liberally with

  eatables and wine; besides, the army was enriched by the

  immense quantity of plunder which was found in King Padella's

  camp, and taken from his soldiers; who (after they had given up

  everything) were allowed to fraternise with the conquerors; and

  the united forces marched back by easy stages towards King

  Giglio's capital, his royal banner and that of Queen Rosalba

  being carried in front of the troops. Hedzoff was made a Duke

  and a FieldMarshal. Smith and Jones were promoted to be Earls;

  the Crim Tartar Order of the Pumpkin and the Paflagonian

  decoration of the Cucumber were freely distributed by their

  Majesties to the army. Queen Rosalba wore the Paflagonian

  Ribbon of the Cucumber across her riding-habit, whilst King

  Giglio never appeared without the grand Cordon of the Pumpkin.

  How the people cheered them as they rode along side by side!

  They were pronounced to be the handsomest couple ever seen:

  that was a matter of course; but they really WERE very

  handsome, and, had they been otherwise, would have looked so,

  they were so happy! Their Majesties were never separated

  during the whole day, but breakfasted, dined, and supped

  together always, and rode side by side, interchanging elegant

  compliments, and indulging in the most delightful conversation.

  At night, Her Majesty's ladies of honour (who had all rallied

  round her the day after King Padella's defeat) came and

  conducted her to the apartments prepared for her; whilst King

  Giglio, surrounded by his gentlemen, withdrew to his own Royal

  quarters. It was agreed they should be married as soon as they

  reached the capital, and orders were dispatched to the

  Archbishop of Blombodinga, to hold himself in readiness to

  perform the interesting ceremony. Duke Hedzoff carried the

  message, and gave instructions to have the Royal Castle

  splendidly refurnished and painted afresh. The Duke seized

  Glumboso, the Ex-Prime Minister, and made him refund that

  considerable sum of money which the old scoundrel had secreted

  out of the late King's treasure. He also clapped Valoroso into

  prison (who, by the way, had been dethroned for some

  considerable period past), and when the Ex-Monarch weakly

  remonstrated, Hedzoff said, 'A soldier, sir, knows but his

  duty; my orders are to lock you up along with the Ex-King

  Padella, whom I have brought hither a prisoner under guard.'

  So these two Ex-Royal personages were sent for a year to the

  House of Correction, and thereafter were obliged to become

  monks of the severest Order of Flagellants, in which state, by

  fasting, by vigils, by flogging (which they administered to one

  another, humbly but resolutely), no doubt they exhibited a

  repentance for their past misdeeds, usurpations, and private

  and public crimes.

  As for Glumboso, that rogue was sent to the galleys, and never

  had an opportunity to steal any more.

  XVIII. HOW THEY ALL JOURNEYED BACK TO THE CAPITAL

  The Fairy Blackstick, by whose means this young King and Queen

  had certainly won their respective crowns back, would come not

  unfrequently, to pay them a little visit--as they were riding

  in their triumphal progress towards Giglio's capital--change

  her wand into a pony, and travel by their Majesties' side,

  giving them the very best advice. I am not sure that King

  Giglio did not think the Fairy and her advice rather a bore,

  fancying it was his own velour and merits which had put him on

  his throne, and conquered Padella: and, in fine, I fear he

  rather gave himself airs towards his best friend and patroness.

  She exhorted him to deal justly by his subjects, to draw mildly

  on the taxes, never to break his promise when he had once given

  it--and in all respects to be a good King.

  'A good King, my dear Fairy!' cries Rosalba. 'Of course he

  will. Break his promise! can you fancy my Giglio would ever do

  anything so improper, so unlike him? No! never!' And she

  looked fondly towards Giglio, whom she thought a pattern of

  perfection.

  'Why is Fairy Blackstick always advising me, and telling me how

  to manage my government, and warning me to keep my word? Does

  she suppose that I am not a man of sense, and a man of honour?'

  asks Giglio testily. 'Methinks she rather presumes upon her

  position.'

  'Hush! dear Giglio,' says Rosalba. 'You know Blackstick has

  been very kind to us, and we must not offend her.' But the

  Fairy was not listening to Giglio's testy observations, she had

  fallen back, and was trotting on her pony now, by Master

  Bulbo's side, who rode a donkey, and made himself generally

  beloved in the army by his cheerfulness, kindness, and

  good-humour to everybody. He was eager to see his darling

  Angelica. He thought there never was such a charming being.

  Blackstick did not tell him it was the possession of the magic

  rose that made Angelica so lovely in his eyes. She brought him

  the very best accounts of his little wife, whose misfortunes

  and humiliations had indeed very greatly improved her; and, you

  see, she could whisk off on her wand a hundred miles in a

  minute, and be
back in no time, and so carry polite messages

  from Bulbo to Angelica, and from Angelica to Bulbo, and comfort

  that young man upon his journey.

  When the Royal party arrived at the last stage before you reach

  Blombodinga, who should be in waiting, in her carriage there

  with her lady of honour by her side, but the Princess Angelica!

  She rushed into her husband's arms, scarcely stopping to make a

  passing curtsey to the King and Queen. She had no eyes but for

  Bulbo, who appeared perfectly lovely to her on account of the

  fairy ring which he wore; whilst she herself, wearing the magic

  rose in her bonnet, seemed entirely beautiful to the enraptured

  Bulbo.

  A splendid luncheon was served to the Royal party, of which the

  Archbishop, the Chancellor, Duke Hedzoff, Countess Gruffanuff,

  and all our friends partook, the Fairy Blackstick being seated

  on the left of King Giglio, with Bulbo and Angelica beside her.

  You could hear the joy-bells ringing in the capital, and the

  guns which the citizens were firing off in honour of their

  Majesties.

  'What can have induced that hideous old Gruffanuff to dress

  herself up in such an absurd way? Did you ask her to be your

  bridesmaid, my dear?' says Giglio to Rosalba. 'What a figure

  of fun Gruffy is!'

  Gruffy was seated opposite their Majesties, between the

  Archbishop and the Lord Chancellor, and a figure of fun she

  certainly was, for she was dressed in a low white silk dress,

  with lace over, a wreath of white roses on her wig, a splendid

  lace veil, and her yellow old neck was covered with diamonds.

  She ogled the King in such a manner that His Majesty burst out

  laughing.

  'Eleven o'clock!' cries Giglio, as the great Cathedral bell of

  Blombodinga tolled that hour. 'Gentlemen and ladies, we must

  be starting. Archbishop, you must be at church, I think,

  before twelve?'

  'We must be at church before twelve,' sighs out Gruffanuff in a

  languishing voice, hiding her old face behind her fan.

  'And then I shall be the happiest man in my dominions,' cries

  Giglio, with an elegant bow to the blushing Rosalba.

  'Oh, my Giglio! Oh, my dear Majesty!' exclaims Gruffanuff; 'and

  can it be that this happy moment at length has arrived--'

  'Of course it has arrived,' says the King.

  '--and that I am about to become the enraptured bride of my

  adored Giglio!' continues Gruffanuff. 'Lend me a

  smelling-bottle, somebody. I certainly shall faint with joy.'

  'YOU my bride?' roars out Giglio.

  'YOU marry my Prince?' cried poor little Rosalba.

  'Pooh! Nonsense! The woman's mad!' exclaims the King. And all

  the courtiers exhibited by their countenances and expressions,

  marks of surprise, or ridicule, or incredulity, or wonder.

  'I should like to know who else is going to be married, if I am

  not?' shrieks out Gruffanuff. 'I should like to know if King

  Giglio is a gentleman, and if there is such a thing as justice

  in Paflagonia? Lord Chancellor! my Lord Archbishop! will your

  Lordships sit by and see a poor, fond, confiding, tender

  creature put upon? Has not Prince Giglio promised to marry his

  Barbara? Is not this Giglio's signature? Does not this paper

  declare that he is mine, and only mine?' And she handed to his

  Grace the Archbishop the document which the Prince signed that

  evening when she wore the magic ring, and Giglio drank so much

  champagne. And the old Archbishop, taking out his eyeglasses,

  read-- "'This is to give notice, that I, Giglio, only son of

  Savio, King of Paflagonia, hereby promise to marry the charming

  Barbara Griselda, Countess Gruffanuff, and widow of the late

  Jenkins Gruffanuff, Esq."

  'H'm,' says the Archbishop, 'the document is certainly a--a

  document.'

  'Phoo!' says the Lord Chancellor, 'the signature is not in His

  Majesty's handwriting.' Indeed, since his studies at Bosforo,

  Giglio had made an immense improvement in caligraphy.

  'Is it your handwriting, Giglio?' cries the Fairy Blackstick,

  with an awful severity of countenance.

  'Y--y--y--es,' poor Giglio gasps out, 'I had quite forgotten

  the confounded paper: she can't mean to hold me by it. You

  old wretch, what will you take to let me off? Help the Queen,

  some one--Her Majesty has fainted.'

  'Chop her head off!'} exclaim the impetuous