Multimedia Mania/abacus-multimedia-mania.iso/dp/0142/01425.txt

Text File | 1993-07-27 | 13KB | 315 lines

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$Title{Prince And The Pauper, The
Chapter III}
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$Author{Twain, Mark}
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$Subject{prince
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$Date{1909}
$Log{Hear The Prince*52520017.aud
See The Prince And The Pauper*0142501.scf
}
Title:       Prince And The Pauper, The
Author:      Twain, Mark
Date:        1909

Chapter III

Tom's Meeting With The Prince

     Tom got up hungry, and sauntered hungry away, but with his thoughts busy
with the shadowy splendors of his night's dreams.  He wandered here and there
in the city, hardly noticing where he was going, or what was happening around
him.  People jostled him and some gave him rough speech; but it was all lost
on the musing boy.  By and by he found himself at Temple Bar, the farthest
from home he had ever traveled in that direction. He stopped and considered a
moment, then fell into his imaginings again, and passed on outside the walls
of London.  The Strand had ceased to be a country-road then, and regarded
itself as a street, but by a strained construction; for, though there was a
tolerably compact row of houses on one side of it, there were only some
scattering great buildings on the other, these being palaces of rich nobles,
with ample and beautiful grounds stretching to the river, - grounds that are
now closely packed with grim acres of brick and stone.

     Tom discovered Charing Village presently, and rested himself at the
beautiful cross built there by a bereaved king of earlier days; then idled
down a quiet, lovely road, past the great cardinal's stately palace, toward a
far more mighty and majestic palace beyond, - Westminster.  Tom stared in glad
wonder at the vast pile of masonry, the wide-spreading wings, the frowning
bastions and turrets, the huge stone gateway, with its gilded bars and its
magnificent array of colossal granite lions, and the other signs and symbols
of English royalty.  Was the desire of his soul to be satisfied at last?
Here, indeed, was a king's palace.  Might he not hope to see a prince now, - a
prince of flesh and blood, if Heaven were willing?

     At each side of the gilded gate stood a living statue, that is to say, an
erect and stately and motionless man-at-arms, clad from head to heel in
shining steel armor.  At a respectful distance were many country folk, and
people from the city, waiting for any chance glimpse of royalty that might
offer.  Splendid carriages, with splendid people in them and splendid servants
outside, were arriving and departing by several other noble gateways that
pierced the royal enclosure.

     Poor little Tom, in his rags, approached, and was moving slowly and
timidly past the sentinels, with a beating heart and a rising hope, when all
at once he caught sight through the golden bars of a spectacle that almost
made him shout for joy.  Within was a comely boy, tanned and brown with sturdy
outdoor sports and exercises, whose clothing was all of lovely silks and
satins, shining with jewels; at his hip a little jeweled sword and dagger;
dainty buskins on his feet, with red heels; and on his head a jaunty crimson
cap, with drooping plumes fastened with a great sparkling gem.  Several
gorgeous gentlemen stood near, - his servants, without a doubt.  Oh!  he was a
prince - a prince, a living prince, a real prince - without the shadow of a
question; and the prayer of the pauper-boy's heart was answered at last.

     Tom's breath came quick and short with excitement, and his eyes grew big
with wonder and delight.  Everything gave way in his mind instantly to one
desire: that was to get close to the prince, and have a good, devouring look
at him.  Before he knew what he was about, he had his face against the
gate-bars.  The next instant one of the soldiers snatched him rudely away, and
sent him spinning among the gaping crowd of country gawks and London idlers.
The soldier said:

     "Mind thy manners, thou young beggar!"

     The crowd jeered and laughed; but the young prince sprang to the gate
with his face flushed, and his eyes flashing with indignation, and cried out:

     "How dar'st thou use a poor lad like that!  How dar'st thou use the king
my father's meanest subject so!  Open the gates, and let him in!"

     You should have seen that fickle crowd snatch off their hats then. You
should have heard them cheer, and shout, "Long live the Prince of Wales!"

     The soldiers presented arms with their halberds, opened the gates, and
presented again as the little Prince of Poverty passed in, in his fluttering
rags, to join hands with the Prince of Limitless Plenty.

     Edward Tudor said:

     "Thou lookest tired and hungry: thou'st been treated ill.  Come with me."

     Half a dozen attendants sprang forward to - I don't know what; interfere,
no doubt.  But they were waved aside with a right royal gesture, and they
stopped stock still where they were, like so many statues.  Edward took Tom to
a rich apartment in the palace, which he called his cabinet. By his command a
repast was brought such as Tom had never encountered before except in books.
The prince, with princely delicacy and breeding, sent away the servants, so
that his humble guest might not be embarrassed by their critical presence;
then he sat near by, and asked questions while Tom ate.

     "What is thy name, lad?"

     "Tom Canty, an' it please thee, sir."

     "'Tis an odd one.  Where dost live?"

     "In the city, please thee, sir.  Offal Court, out of Pudding Lane."

     "Offal Court!  Truly, 'tis another odd one.  Hast parents?"

     "Parents have I, sir, and a grandam likewise that is but indifferently
precious to me, God forgive me if it be offense to say it - also twin sisters,
Nan and Bet."

     "Then is thy grandam not over kind to thee, I take it."

     "Neither to any other is she, so please your Worship.  She hath a wicked
heart, and worketh evil all her days."

     "Doth she mistreat thee?"

     "There be times that she stayeth her hand, being asleep or overcome with
drink; but when she hath her judgment clear again, she maketh it up to me with
goodly beatings."

     A fierce look came into the little prince's eyes, and he cried out:

     "What!  Beatings?"

     "Oh, indeed, yes, please you, sir."

     "Beatings! - and thou so frail and little.  Hark ye: before the night
come, she shall hie her to the Tower.  The king my father - "

     "In sooth, you forget, sir, her low degree.  The Tower is for the
great alone."

     "True, indeed.  I had not thought of that.  I will consider of her
punishment.  Is thy father kind to thee?"

     "Not more than Gammer Canty, sir."

     "Fathers be alike, mayhap.  Mine hath not a doll's temper.  He smiteth
with a heavy hand, yet spareth me: he spareth me not always with his
tongue, though, sooth to say.  How doth thy mother use thee?"

     "She is good, sir, and giveth me neither sorrow nor pain of any sort. And
Nan and Bet are like to her in this."

     "How old be these?"

     "Fifteen, an' it please you, sir."

     "The Lady Elizabeth, my sister, is fourteen, and the Lady Jane Grey, my
cousin, is of mine own age, and comely and gracious withal; but my sister the
Lady Mary, with her gloomy mien and - Look you: do thy sisters forbid their
servants to smile, lest the sin destroy their souls?"

     "They?  Oh, dost think, sir, that they have servants?"

     The little prince contemplated the little pauper gravely a moment, then
said:

     "And prithee, why not?  Who helpeth them undress at night?  who attireth
them when they rise?"

     "None, sir.  Wouldst have them take off their garment, and sleep without,
- like the beasts?"

     "Their garment!  Have they but one?"

     "Ah, good your worship, what would they do with more?  Truly, they have
not two bodies each."

     "It is a quaint and marvelous thought!  Thy pardon, I had not meant to
laugh.  But thy good Nan and thy Bet shall have raiment and lackeys enow, and
that soon, too: my cofferer shall look to it.  No, thank me not; 'tis nothing.
Thou speakest well; thou hast an easy grace in it.  Art learned?"

     "I know not if I am or not, sir.  The good priest that is called Father
Andrew taught me, of his kindness, from his books."

     "Know'st thou the Latin?"

     "But scantly, sir, I doubt."

     "Learn it, lad: 'tis hard only at first.  The Greek is harder; but
neither these nor any tongues else, I think, are hard to the Lady Elizabeth
and my cousin.  Thou shouldst hear those damsels at it!  But tell me of thy
Offal Court.  Hast thou a pleasant life there?"

     "In truth, yes, so please you, sir, save when one is hungry.  There be
Punch-and-Judy shows, and monkeys, - oh, such antic creatures!  and so
bravely dressed! - and there be plays wherein they that play do shout and
fight till all are slain, and 'tis so fine to see, and costeth but a
farthing - albeit 'tis main hard to get the farthing, please your worship."

     "Tell me more."

     "We lads of Offal Court do strive against each other with the cudgel,
like to the fashion of the 'prentices, sometimes."

     The prince's eyes flashed.  Said he:

     "Marry, that would I not mislike.  Tell me more."

     "We strive in races, sir, to see who of us shall be fleetest."

     "That would I like also.  Speak on."

     "In summer, sir, we made and swim in the canals and in the river, and
each doth duck his neighbor, and spatter him with water, and dive and shout
and tumble and - "

     "'Twould be worth my father's kingdom but to enjoy it once!  Prithee
go on."

     "We dance and sing about the Maypole in Cheapside; we play in the sand,
each covering his neighbor up; and times we make mud pastry - oh, the lovely
mud, it hath not its like for delightfulness in all the world! - we do fairly
wallow in the mud, sir, saving your worship's presence."

     "Oh, prithee, say no more, 'tis glorious!  If that I could but clothe me
in raiment like to thine, and strip my feet, and revel in the mud once, just
once, with none to rebuke me or forbid, meseemeth I could forego the crown!"

[Hear The Prince]
I could forego the crown!

     "And if that I could clothe me once, sweet sir, as thou art clad - just
once - "

     "Oho, wouldst like it?  Then so shall it be.  Doff thy rags, and don
these splendors, lad!  It is a brief happiness, but will be not less keen for
that.  We will have it while we may, and change again before any come to
molest."

[See The Prince And The Pauper: Doff thy rags, and don these splendors, Lad!]

     A few minutes later the little Prince of Wales was garlanded with Tom's
fluttering odds and ends, and the little Prince of Pauperdom was tricked out
in the gaudy plumage of royalty.  The two went and stood side by side before a
great mirror, and lo, a miracle: there did not seem to have been any change
made!  They stared at each other, then at the glass, then at each other again.
At last the puzzled princeling said:

     "What dost thou make of this?"

     "Ah, good your worship, require me not to answer.  It is not meet that
one of my degree should utter the thing."

     "Then will I utter it.  Thou hast the same hair, the same eyes, the same
voice and manner, the same form and stature, the same face and countenance,
that I bear.  Fared we forth naked, there is none could say which was you, and
which the Prince of Wales.  And, now that I am clothed as thou wert clothed,
it seemeth I should be able the more nearly to feel as thou didst when the
brute soldier - Hark ye, is not this a bruise upon your hand?"

     "Yes; but it is a slight thing, and your worship knoweth that the poor
man-at-arms - "

     "Peace!  It was a shameful thing and a cruel!" cried the little prince,
stamping his bare foot.  "If the king - Stir not a step till I come again!  It
is a command!"

     In a moment he had snatched up and put away an article of national
importance that lay upon a table, and was out at the door and flying through
the palace grounds in his bannered rags, with a hot face and glowing eyes.  As
soon as he reached the great gate, he seized the bars, and tried to shake
them, shouting:

     "Open!  Unbar the gates!"

     The soldier that had maltreated Tom obeyed promptly; and as the prince
burst through the portal, half-smothered with royal wrath, the soldier fetched
him a sounding box on the ear that sent him whirling to the roadway, and said:

     "Take that, thou beggar's spawn, for what thou got'st me from his
Highness!"

     The crowd roared with laughter.  The prince picked himself out of the
mud, and made fiercely at the sentry, shouting:

     "I am the Prince of Wales, my person is sacred; and thou shalt hang for
laying thy hand upon me!"

     The soldier brought his halberd to a present-arms and said mockingly:

     "I salute your gracious Highness." Then angrily, "Be off, thou crazy
rubbish!"

     Here the jeering crowd closed around the poor little prince, and hustled
him far down the road, hooting him, and shouting, "Way for his royal Highness!
way for the Prince of Wales!"