The Pobratim Part 42

Once, in those long bygone times when rats fought with frogs, tortoises ran races with hares and won them, p.u.s.s.ies went about in boots, and--I was going to add--women wore breeches, but, then, that would not be such an extraordinary occurrence even now-a-days; well, in those remote times, there lived a King who had a beautiful daughter, as fair as the dawning sun, and as wise as an old rabbi versed in the Kabala. In fact, she was so handsome and so learned that her reputation had spread far and wide, and many a Prince had come from far away beyond the sea to offer his hand and heart to this wonderful Princess. She, however, would have none of them, for she found that, although they--as a rule--rode like jockeys, drove like cabmen and swore like carters, they were, on the whole, slow-coaches; none of them, for instance, were good at repartee, none could discuss German pessimism, and all--on the contrary--found that life was worth living; so she would have nothing to do with them.

She, therefore, send heralds to all the Courts of Chivalry to proclaim that she would only wed the Prince who, for three successive nights, could sit up and watch in her room, without falling asleep and allowing her to escape.

Every Prince who heard of the proclamation thought it a good joke, and the candidates for the Princess's hand greatly increased. A host of _Durchlauchten_ from the most sacred Protestant empire of Germany, flocked--_Armen-reisender_ fashion--and offered to sit up in the Princess's room for three nights, or even more if she desired it.

Alas, for the poor Highnesses! every one paid the trial with his life. The Princess--who knew a thing or two--provided for their entertainment an unlimited supply of _Lager Bier_, and, moreover--it was a cruel joke--she had a few pages read to them of the very book each one had written, for, in those literary times, every Prince was bound to write a book. At the end of the first chapter every Prince snored.

It happened that Prince Mathias--the only son and heir of a queen who reigned in an out-of-the-way island, which was believed by its inhabitants to be the centre of the world--heard of this strange proclamation. He was the very flower of chivalry in those days, strong as a bull, handsome as a stag--though rather inclined to be corpulent--brave as a falcon, and as amorous as a cat in spring-time.

He at once resolved to risk his head, and go and spend the three nights in the Princess's bedroom.

His mother--a pious old lady, an excellent housekeeper, much attached to her domestics, and known throughout the world as an elegant writer of diaries--did her utmost to dissuade her son from his foolish project; but all her wise remonstrances were in vain. Prince Mathias, who was not the most dutiful of sons, allowed his mother to jaw away till she was purple in the face, but her words went in by one ear and out by the other; he remained steadfast to his purpose. Seeing at last that praying and preaching were of no avail, Her Gracious Majesty consented to her son's departure with royal grace. She doled out to him a few ducats, stamped with her own effigy, and, knowing his unthrifty ways, she said to herself: "He'll not go very far with that." Then she presented him with a shawl to keep him warm at nights, and she blessed him with her chubby hands, begging him to try and keep out of mischief now that he had reached the years of discretion.

Mathias, wrapped up in his shawl, went off to seek his fortune. As he was tramping along the high-road, he happened to meet a stout, sleek-headed man who was lounging on the roadside.

The Prince--who was very off-handed in his ways, and not very particular as to the company he kept, or to the number of his attachments, as the Opposition papers said--hailed the stout, sleek-headed man.

"Whither wanderest thou, my friend?" said Mathias to the loafer.

"I tramp about the world in search of happiness," quoth he.

"You're not a German philosopher, I hope?" asked the Prince, terror-stricken.

"I'm a true-born Dutchman, sir," retorted the loafer, with much dignity.

"Give us your paw," said His Highness.

The friends shook hands.

"What's your trade, my man?"

"Well, I'm a kind of Jack-of-all-trades, without any trade in particular--and yours?"

"I'll be a kind of general overseer some day or other."

"Good job?"

"Used to be much better--too many strikes nowadays."

"I see; it ruins the trade, does it?"

"Our trade especially."

"So?"

"But what's your name?" asked the Prince.

"Well, I'm generally known as 'The Big One.' You see, I can stretch out my stomach to such a pitch that I can shelter a whole regiment of soldiers in it. Shouldn't you like to see me do the trick?"

"Swell away!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the Prince.

The Big One thereupon puffed and puffed himself out, and swelled himself to such a pitch that he blocked up the highway from one side to the other.

"Bravo!" cried the Prince; "you're a swell!"

"I'm a sell," said The Big One, smiling modestly.

"A cell, indeed! But, I say, where did you learn that trick?"

"Up in Thibet."

"You're an adept, are you?"

"I am," said the loafer.

Mathias crossed himself devoutly.

"I say, don't you want to accompany me in my wanderings, in a _sans facon_ way?"

"And take pot-luck with you?" said the adept, with a wink.

Mathias took the hint. He jingled the few dollars he had in his pocket, counted the six gold ducats his mamma had given him, and reckoned the enormous amount of food his new friend might consume. On the other hand, he bethought himself how useful a man who could swallow a whole regiment might be in case of an insurrection; so he shrugged his shoulders, and muttered to himself:

"There'll be a row at the next meeting of the Witena-gemote, when my debts 'll have to be paid; but if they want me to keep up appearances, they must fork out the tin." Thereupon, turning to The Big One, he added, magnificently: "It's a bargain."

"You're a brick," said The Big One.

On the morrow they met another tramp, so tall and so thin that he looked like a huge asparagus, or like a walking minaret. His name was The Long One; and he could, even without standing on tiptoe, lengthen himself in such a way as to reach the clouds. Moreover, every step he made was the distance of a mile.

As he, too, was seeking his fortune, the Prince took him on in his suite.

The day after that, as the three were going through a wood, they came across a man with such flashing eyes that he could light a conflagration with only one of his glances. Of course, they took him on with them.

After tramping about for three days, they got to the castle where the wonderful Princess lived. Mathias held a council with his friends, and told them of his intentions. Then he changed his gold ducats, p.a.w.ned his mother's shawl, bought decent clothes for the tramps, and made his entrance into the town with all the pomp and splendour due to his rank.

As he was travelling _incog._, he sent his card--a plain one without crown or coat-of-arms--to the King of the place, announcing that he had come with his followers to spend three nights in his daughter's bedroom.

"Followers not admitted," replied the King.

"All right!" retorted the Prince, ruefully.

"You know the terms, I suppose?"

"Death or victory!"

The King made him a long speech, terse and pithy, as royal speeches usually are. The Prince, who listened with all attention, tried to yawn without opening his mouth.

"Yawn like a man!" said the King; "I don't mind it, do you?" said he to the prime minister, who had written the speech.