Prince Ricardo of Pantouflia by Andrew Lang Read Free Book Online Page A

lunching with one of the ladies of her Court. Ricardo did not come down to luncheon, and Jaqueline ate hers alone; and very mournful she felt. The prince had certainly not come well out of the adventure. He had failed (as all attempts to restore the Stuarts always did); he had been wounded, though he had never received a scratch in any of his earlier exploits; and if his honour was safe, and his good intentions fully understood, that was chiefly due to Jaqueline, and to the generosity of King James and Prince Charles.
    "I wonder what he's doing?" she said to herself, and at last she went up and knocked at Ricardo's door.
    "Go away," he said; "I don't want to see anybody. Who is it?"
    "It's only me--Jaqueline."
    {"It's only me": p111.jpg}
    "Go away! I want nobody."
    "Do let me in, dear Dick; I have good news for you," said the princess.
    "What is it?" said Ricardo, unlocking the door. "Why do you bother a fellow so?"
    He had been crying--his hand obviously hurt him badly; he looked, and indeed he was, very sulky.
    "How did you get on in England, Dick?" asked the princess, taking no notice of his bandaged hand.
    "Oh, don't ask me!" said Ricardo. "I've not been to England at all."
    "Why, what happened?"
    "Everything that is horrid happened," said Dick; and then, unable to keep it any longer to himself, he said: "I've failed to keep my promise; I've been insulted, I've been beaten by a fellow younger than myself; and, oh! how my hand does hurt, and I've got such a headache! And what am I to say to my mother when she asks why my arm is in a sling? and what will my father say? I'm quite broken down and desperate. I think I'll run away to sea;" and indeed he looked very wild and miserable.
    "Tell me how it all happened, Dick," said the princess; "I'm sure it's not so bad as you make out. Perhaps I can help you."
    "How can a girl help a man?" cried Dick, angrily; and poor Jaqueline, remembering how she
had
helped him, at the risk of her own life, when King James nearly crushed her in the shape of a mosquito, turned her head away, and cried silently.
    "I'm a beast," said Dick. "I beg your pardon, Jack dear. You are always a trump, I will say; but I don't see what you can do."
    Then he told her all the story (which, of course, she knew perfectly well already), except the part played by the mosquito, of which he could not be aware.
    "I was sure it was not so bad as you made it out, Dick," she said. "You see, the old king, who is not very wise, but is a perfectly honourable gentleman, gave you the highest praise." She thought of lecturing him a little about disobeying his father, but it did not seem a good opportunity. Besides, Jaqueline had been lectured herself lately, and had not enjoyed it.
    "What am I to say to my mother?" Dick repeated.
    "We must think of something to say," said Jaqueline.
    "I can't tell my mother anything but the truth," Ricardo went on. "Here's my hand, how it does sting! and she must find out."
    "I think I can cure it," said Jaqueline. "Didn't you say Prince Charles gave you his own sword?"
    "Yes, there it is; but what has that to do with it?"
    "Everything in the world to do with it, my dear Dick. How lucky it is that he gave it to you!"
    And she ran to her own room, and brought a beautiful golden casket, which contained her medicines.
    Taking out a small phial, marked (in letters of emerald):
    "WEAPON SALVE,"
    the princess drew the bright sword, extracted a little of the ointment from the phial, and spread it on a soft silk handkerchief.
    "What are you going to do with the sword?" asked Ricardo.
    "Polish it a little," said Jaqueline, smiling, and she began gently to rub, with the salve, the point of the rapier.
    As she did so, Ricardo's arm ceased to hurt, and the look of pain passed from his mouth.
    "Why, I feel quite better!" he said. "I can use my hand as well as ever."
    Then he took off the stained handkerchief, and, lo, there was not even a mark where the wound had been! For this was the famous Weapon Salve