Multimedia Mania/abacus-multimedia-mania.iso/dp/0143/01435.txt

Text File | 1993-07-27 | 9KB | 197 lines

$Unique_ID{bob01435}
$Pretitle{}
$Title{Prince And The Pauper, The
Chapter XIII}
$Subtitle{}
$Author{Twain, Mark}
$Affiliation{}
$Subject{time
tis
done
hendon
thy
boy
little
worship
come
himself}
$Date{1909}
$Log{}
Title:       Prince And The Pauper, The
Author:      Twain, Mark
Date:        1909

Chapter XIII

The Disappearance Of The Prince

     A heavy drowsiness presently fell upon the two comrades.  The king
said:

     "Remove these rags" - meaning his clothing.

     Hendon disappareled the boy without dissent or remark, tucked him up
in bed, then glanced about the room, saying to himself, ruefully, "He hath
taken my bed again, as before - marry, what shall I do?" The little king
observed his perplexity, and dissipated it with a word.  He said, sleepily:

     "Thou wilt sleep athwart the door, and guard it." In a moment more he
was out of his troubles, in a deep slumber.

     "Dear heart, he should have been born a king!" muttered Hendon,
admiringly; "he playeth the part to a marvel."

     Then he stretched himself across the door, on the floor, saying
contentedly:

     "I have lodged worse for seven years; 'twould be but ill gratitude to
Him above to find fault with this."

     He dropped asleep as the dawn appeared.  Toward noon he rose,
uncovered his unconscious ward - a section at a time - and took his measure
with a string.  The king awoke, just as he had completed his work,
complained of the cold, and asked what he was doing.

     "'Tis done now, my liege," said Hendon; "I have a bit of business
outside, but will presently return; sleep thou again - thou needest it.
There - let me cover thy head also - thou'lt be warm the sooner."

     The king was back in dreamland before this speech was ended.  Miles
slipped softly out, and slipped as softly in again, in the course of thirty
or forty minutes, with a complete second-hand suit of boy's clothing, of
cheap material, and showing signs of wear; but tidy, and suited to the
season of the year.  He seated himself, and began to overhaul his purchase,
mumbling to himself:

     "A longer purse would have got a better sort, but when one has not the
long purse one must be content with what a short one may do -

     "'There was a woman in our town,
     In our town did dwell' -

     "He stirred, methinks - I must sing in a less thunderous key; 'tis not
good to mar his sleep, with this journey before him and he so wearied out,
poor chap......This garment - 'tis well enough - a stitch here and another
one there will set it aright.  This other is better, albeit a stitch or two
will not come amiss in it, likewise......These be very good and sound, and
will keep his small feet warm and dry - an odd new thing to him, belike,
since he has doubtless been used to foot it bare, winters and summers the
same......Would thread were bread, seeing one getteth a year's sufficiency
for a farthing, and such a brave big needle without cost, for mere love.
Now shall I have the demon's own time to thread it!"

     And so he had.  He did as men have always done, and probably always
will do, to the end of time - held the needle still, and tried to thrust
the thread through the eye, which is the opposite of a woman's way.  Time
and time again the thread missed the mark, going sometimes on one side of
the needle, sometimes on the other, sometimes doubling up against the
shaft; but he was patient, having been through these experiences before,
when he was soldiering.  He succeeded at last, and took up the garment that
had lain waiting, meantime, across his lap, and began his work.  "The inn
is paid - the breakfast that is to come, included - and there is
wherewithal left to buy a couple of donkeys and meet our little costs for
the two or three days betwixt this and the plenty that awaits us at Hendon
Hall -

     "'She loved her hus' -

     "Body o' me!  I have driven the needle under my nail!......It matters
little - 'tis not a novelty - yet 'tis not a convenience, neither......We
shall be merry there, little one, never doubt it!  Thy troubles will vanish
there, and likewise thy sad distemper -

     "'She loved her husband dearilee,
     But another man' -

     "These be noble large stitches!" - holding the garment up and viewing
it admiringly - "they have a grandeur and a majesty that do cause these
small stingy ones of the tailor-man to look mighty paltry and plebeian -

     "'She loved her husband dearilee,
     But another man he loved she,' -

     "Marry, 'tis done - a goodly piece of work, too, and wrought with
expedition.  Now will I wake him, apparel him, pour for him, feed him, and
then will we hie us to the mart by the Tabard inn in Southwark and - be
pleased to rise, my liege! - he answereth not - what ho, my liege! - of a
truth must I profane his sacred person with a touch, sith his slumber is
deaf to speech.  What!"

     He threw back the covers - the boy was gone!

     He stared about him in speechless astonishment for a moment; noticed
for the first time that his ward's ragged raiment was also missing, then he
began to rage and storm, and shout for the inn-keeper.  At that moment a
servant entered with the breakfast.

     "Explain, thou limb of Satan, or thy time is come!" roared the man of
war, and made so savage a spring toward the waiter that this latter could
not find his tongue, for the instant, for fright and surprise.  "Where is
the boy?"

     In disjointed and trembling syllables the man gave the information
desired.

     "You were hardly gone from the place, your worship, when a youth came
running and said it was your worship's will that the boy come to you
straight, at the bridge-end on the Southwark side.  I brought him hither;
and when he woke the lad and gave his message, the lad did grumble some
little for being disturbed 'so early,' as he called it, but straightway
trussed on his rags and went with the youth, only saying it had been better
manners that your worship came yourself, not sent a stranger - and so - "

     "And so thou'rt a fool! - a fool, and easily cozened - hang all thy
breed!  Yet mayhap no hurt is done.  Possibly no harm is meant the boy.  I
will go fetch him.  Make the table ready.  Stay!  the coverings of the bed
were disposed as if one lay beneath them - happened that by accident?"

     "I know not, good your worship.  I saw the youth meddle with them - he
that came for the boy."

     "Thousand deaths!  'twas done to deceive me - 'tis plain 'twas done to
gain time.  Hark ye!  Was that youth alone?"

     "All alone, your worship."

     'Art sure?"

     "Sure, your worship."

     "Collect thy scattered wits - bethink thee - take time, man."

     After a moment's thought, the servant said:

     "When he came, none came with him; but now I remember me that as the
two stepped into the throng of the Bridge, a ruffian-looking man plunged
out from some near place; and just as he was joining them - "

     "What then? - out with it!" thundered the impatient Hendon,
interrupting.

     "Just then the crowd lapped them up and closed them in, and I saw no
more, being called by my master, who was in a rage because a joint that the
scrivener had ordered was forgot, though I take all the saints to witness
that to blame me for that miscarriage were like holding the unborn babe to
judgment for sins com - "

     'Out of my sight, idiot!  Thy prating drives me mad!  Hold!  whither
art flying?  Canst not bide still an instant?  Went they toward Southwark?"

     "Even so, your worship - for, as I said before, as to that detestable
joint, the babe unborn is no whit more blameless than - "

     "Art here yet!  And prating still?  Vanish, lest I throttle thee!" The
servitor vanished.  Hendon followed after him, passed him, and plunged down
the stairs two steps at a stride, muttering, "'Tis that scurvy villain that
claimed he was his son.  I have lost thee, my poor little mad master - it
is a bitter thought - and I had come to love thee so!  No!  by book and
bell, not lost!  Not lost, for I will ransack the land till I find thee
again.  Poor child, yonder is his breakfast - and mine, but I have no
hunger now - so, let the rats have it - speed, speed!  that is the word!"
As he wormed his swift way through the noisy multitudes upon the Bridge, he
several times said to himself - clinging to the thought as if it were a
particularly pleasing one: "He grumbled, but he went - he went, yes,
because he thought Miles Hendon asked it, sweet lad - he would ne'er have
done it for another, I know it well!"