English
“Happyasaking.”HowfarkingsarehappyIcannotsay,nomorethancouldPrinceDolor,thoughhehadoncebeenakinghimself.
Butherememberednothingaboutit,andtherewasnobodytotellhim,excepthisnurse,whohadbeenforbiddenuponpainofdeathtolethimknowanythingabouthisdeadparents,orthekinghisuncle,orindeedanypartofhisownhistory.
Sometimeshespeculatedabouthimself,whetherhehadhadafatherandmotherasotherlittleboyshadwhattheyhadbeenlike,andwhyhehadneverseenthem.
But,knowingnothingaboutthem,hedidnotmissthem—onlyonceortwice,readingprettystoriesaboutlittlechildrenandtheirmothers,whohelpedthemwhentheywereindifficultyandcomfortedthemwhentheyweresick,hefeelingillanddullandlonely,wonderedwhathadbecomeofhismotherandwhyshenevercametoseehim.
Then,inhishistorylessons,ofcoursehereadaboutkingsandprinces,andthegovernmentsofdifferentcountries,andtheeventsthathappenedthere.
Andthoughhebutfaintlytookinallthis,stillhedidtakeitinalittle,andworriedhisyoungbrainaboutit,andperplexedhisnursewithquestions,towhichshereturnedsharpandmysteriousanswers,whichonlysethimthinkingthemore.
Hehadplentyoftimeforthinking.Afterhislastjourneyinthetraveling-cloak,thejourneywhichhadgivenhimsomuchpain,hisdesiretoseetheworldsomehowfadedaway.
Hecontentedhimselfwithreadinghisbooks,andlookingoutofthetowerwindows,andlisteningtohisbelovedlittlelark,whichhadcomehomewithhimthatday,andneverlefthimagain.
True,itkeptoutoftheway;andthoughhisnursesometimesdimlyheardit,andsaid“Whatisthathorridnoiseoutside?”
shenevergotthefaintestchanceofmakingitintoalarkpie.
PrinceDolorhadhispetalltohimself,andthoughheseldomsawit,heknewitwasnearhim,andhecaughtcontinually,atoddhoursoftheday,andeveninthenight,fragmentsofitsdelicioussong.
Allduringthewinter—sofarasthereeverwasanydifferencebetweensummerandwinterinHopelessTower—thelittlebirdcheeredandamusedhim.
Hescarcelyneededanythingmore—notevenhistraveling-cloak,whichlaybundledupunnoticedinacorner,tiedupinitsinnumerableknots.
Nordidhisgodmothercomenearhim.Itseemedasifshehadgiventhesetreasuresandlefthimalone—tousethemorlosethem,applythemormisapplythem,accordingtohisownchoice.
Thatisallwecandowithchildrenwhentheygrowintobigchildrenoldenoughtodistinguishbetweenrightandwrong,andtoooldtobeforcedtodoeither.
PrinceDolorwasnowquiteabigboy.Nottall—alas!
henevercouldbethat,withhispoorlittleshrunkenlegs,whichwereofnouse,onlyanencumbrance.
Buthewasstoutandstrong,withgreatsturdyshoulders,andmusculararms,uponwhichhecouldswinghimselfaboutalmostlikeamonkey.
Asifincompensationforhisuselesslowerlimbs,Naturehadgiventotheseextrastrengthandactivity.
Hisface,too,wasveryhandsome;thinner,firmer,moremanly;butstillthesweetfaceofhischildhood—hismother’sownface.
Howhismotherwouldhavelikedtolookathim!Perhapsshedid—whoknows?
Theboywasnotastupidboyeither.Hecouldlearnalmostanythinghechose—andhedidchoose,whichwasmorethanhalfthebattle.
Henevergaveuphislessonstillhehadlearnedthemall—neverthoughtitapunishmentthathehadtoworkatthem,andthattheycosthimadealoftroublesometimes.
“But,”thoughthe,“menwork,anditmustbesograndtobeaman—aprincetoo;andIfancyprincesworkharderthananybody—exceptkings.
TheprincesIreadaboutgenerallyturnintokings.
Iwonder”—theboywasalwayswondering—“Nurse,”—andonedayhestartledherwithasuddenquestion,—“tellme—shallIeverbeaking?”
Thewomanstood,perplexedbeyondexpression.
Solongatimehadpassedbysincehercrime—ifitwereacrime—andhersentence,thatshenowseldomthoughtofeither.
Evenherpunishment—tobeshutupforlifeinHopelessTower—shehadgraduallygotusedto.
UsedalsotothelittlelamePrince,hercharge—whomatfirstshehadhated,thoughshecarefullydideverythingtokeephimalive,sinceuponhimherownlifehung.
Butlatterlyshehadceasedtohatehim,and,inasortofway,almostlovedhim—atleast,enoughtobesorryforhim—aninnocentchild,imprisonedheretillhegrewintoanoldman,andbecameadull,worn-outcreaturelikeherself.
Sometimes,watchinghim,shefeltmoresorryforhimthanevenforherself;andthen,seeingshelookedalessmiserableanduglywoman,hedidnotshrinkfromherasusual.
Hedidnotnow.“Nurse—dearnurse,”saidhe,“Idon’tmeantovexyou,buttellmewhatisaking?shallIeverbeone?”
Whenshebegantothinklessofherselfandmoreofthechild,thewoman’scourageincreased.
Theideacametoher—whatharmwoulditbe,evenifhedidknowhisownhistory?
Perhapsheoughttoknowit—fortherehadbeenvariousupsanddowns,usurpations,revolutions,andrestorationsinNomansland,asinmostothercountries.Somethingmighthappen—whocouldtell?Changesmightoccur.
Possiblyacrownwouldevenyetbesetuponthosepretty,faircurls—whichshebegantothinkprettierthaneverwhenshesawtheimaginarycoronetuponthem.
Shesatdown,consideringwhetherheroath,neverto“sayaword”toPrinceDolorabouthimself,wouldbebrokenifsheweretotakeapencilandwritewhatwastobetold.
Amerequibble—amean,miserablequibble.
Butthenshewasamiserablewoman,moretobepitiedthanscorned.
Afterlongdoubt,andwithgreattrepidation,sheputherfingerstoherlips,andtakingthePrince’sslate—withthespongetiedtoit,readytoruboutthewritinginaminute—shewrote:
“Youareaking.”
PrinceDolorstarted.Hisfacegrewpale,andthenflushedallover;heheldhimselferect.Lameashewas,anybodycouldseehewasborntobeaking.
“Hush!”saidthenurse,ashewasbeginningtospeak.
Andthen,terriblyfrightenedallthewhile,—peoplewhohavedonewrongalwaysarefrightened,—shewrotedowninafewhurriedsentenceshishistory.
Howhisparentshaddied—hisunclehadusurpedhisthrone,andsenthimtoendhisdaysinthislonelytower.
“I,too,”addedshe,burstingintotears.
“Unless,indeed,youcouldgetoutintotheworld,andfightforyourrightslikeaman.
Andfightformealso,myPrince,thatImaynotdieinthisdesolateplace.”
“Pooroldnurse!”saidtheboycompassionately.Forsomehow,boyashewas,whenheheardhewasborntobeaking,hefeltlikeaman—likeaking—whocouldaffordtobetenderbecausehewasstrong.
Hescarcelysleptthatnight,andeventhoughheheardhislittlelarksinginginthesunrise,hebarelylistenedtoit.Thingsmoreseriousandimportanthadtakenpossessionofhismind.
“Suppose,”thoughthe,“Iweretodoasshesays,andgooutintheworld,nomatterhowithurtsme—theworldofpeople,activepeople,asthatboyIsaw.
Theymightonlylaughatme—poorhelplesscreaturethatIam;butstillImightshowthemIcoulddosomething.
Atanyrate,Imightgoandseeiftherewereanythingformetodo.Godmother,helpme!”
Itwassolongsincehehadaskedherhelpthathewashardlysurprisedwhenhegotnoanswer—onlythelittlelarkoutsidethewindowsanglouderandlouder,andthesunrose,floodingtheroomwithlight.
PrinceDolorsprangoutofbed,andbegandressinghimself,whichwashardwork,forhewasnotusedtoit—hehadalwaysbeenaccustomedtodependuponhisnurseforeverything.
“ButImustnowlearntobeindependent,”thoughthe.“Fancyakingbeingdressedlikeababy!”
Sohedidthebesthecould,—awkwardlybutcheerily,—andthenheleapedtothecornerwherelayhistraveling-cloak,untieditasbefore,andwatcheditunrollingitself—whichitdidrapidly,withaheartygood-will,asifquitetiredofidleness.
SowasPrinceDolor—orfeltasifhewere.
Hejumpedintothemiddleofit,saidhischarm,andwasoutthroughtheskylightimmediately.
“Good-by,prettylark!”heshouted,ashepasseditonthewing,stillwarblingitscaroltothenewlyrisensun.
“Youhavebeenmypleasure,mydelight;nowImustgoandwork.
SingtooldnursetillIcomebackagain.
Perhapsshe’llhearyou—perhapsshewon’t—butitwilldohergoodallthesame.Good-by!”
But,asthecloakhungirresoluteinair,hesuddenlyrememberedthathehadnotdeterminedwheretogo—indeed,hedidnotknow,andtherewasnobodytotellhim.
“Godmother,”hecried,inmuchperplexity,“youknowwhatIwant,—atleast,Ihopeyoudo,forIhardlydomyself—takemewhereIoughttogo;showmewhateverIoughttosee—nevermindwhatIliketosee,”asasuddenideacameintohismindthathemightseemanypainfulanddisagreeablethings.
Butthisjourneywasnotforpleasureasbefore.
Hewasnotababynow,todonothingbutplay—bigboysdonotalwaysplay.Normenneither—theywork.
ThusmuchPrinceDolorknew—thoughverylittlemore.
Asthecloakstartedoff,travelingfasterthanhehadeverknownittodo,—throughsky-landandcloudland,overfreezingmountain-tops,anddesolatestretchesofforest,andsmilingcultivatedplains,andgreatlakesthatseemedtohimalmostasshorelessasthesea,—hewasoftenratherfrightened.
Buthecroucheddown,silentandquiet;whatwastheuseofmakingafuss?
and,wrappinghimselfupinhisbearskin,waitedforwhatwastohappen.
Aftersometimeheheardamurmurinthedistance,increasingmoreandmoretillitgrewlikethehumofagigantichiveofbees.
And,stretchinghischinovertherimofhiscloak,PrinceDolorsaw—far,farbelowhim,yet,withhisgoldspectaclesandsilverearson,hecoulddistinctlyhearandsee—what?
Mostofushavesometimeorothervisitedagreatmetropolis—havewanderedthroughitsnetworkofstreets—lostourselvesinitscrowdsofpeople—lookedupatitstallrowsofhouses,itsgrandpublicbuildings,churches,andsquares.
Also,perhaps,wehavepeepedintoitsmiserablelittlebackalleys,wheredirtychildrenplayinguttersalldayandhalfthenight—evenyoungboysgoaboutpickingpockets,withnobodytotellthemitiswrongexceptthepoliceman,andhesimplytakesthemofftoprison.
Andallthiswretchednessisclosebehindthegrandeur—likethetwosidesoftheleafofabook.
Anawfulsightisalargecity,seenanyhowfromanywhere.
But,supposeyouweretoseeitfromtheupperair,where,withyoureyesandearsopen,youcouldtakeineverythingatonce?Whatwoulditlooklike?Howwouldyoufeelaboutit?Ihardlyknowmyself.Doyou?
PrinceDolorhadneedtobeaking—thatis,aboywithakinglynature—tobeabletostandsuchasightwithoutbeingutterlyovercome.
Buthewasverymuchbewildered—asbewilderedasablindpersonwhoissuddenlymadetosee.
Hegazeddownonthecitybelowhim,andthenputhishandoverhiseyes.
“Ican’tbeartolookatit,itissobeautiful—sodreadful.AndIdon’tunderstandit—notonebit.Thereisnobodytotellmeaboutit.IwishIhadsomebodytospeakto.”
“Doyou?Thenprayspeaktome.Iwasalwaysconsideredgoodatconversation.”
Thevoicethatsqueakedoutthisreplywasanexcellentimitationofthehumanone,thoughitcameonlyfromabird.
Nolarkthistime,however,butagreatblackandwhitecreaturethatflewintothecloak,andbeganwalkingroundandroundontheedgeofitwithadignifiedstride,onefootbeforetheother,likeanyunfeatheredbipedyoucouldname.
“Ihaven’tthehonorofyouracquaintance,sir,”saidtheboypolitely.
“Ma’am,ifyouplease.Iamamotherbird,andmynameisMag,andIshallbehappytotellyoueverythingyouwanttoknow.
ForIknowagreatdeal;andIenjoytalking.
Myfamilyisofgreatantiquity;wehavebuiltinthispalaceforhundreds—thatistosay,dozensofyears.
Iamintimatelyacquaintedwiththeking,thequeen,andthelittleprincesandprincesses—alsothemaidsofhonor,andalltheinhabitantsofthecity.
Italkagooddeal,butIalwaystalksense,andIdaresayIshouldbeexceedinglyusefultoapoorlittleignorantboylikeyou.”
“Iamaprince,”saidtheothergently.
“Allright.AndIamamagpie.Youwillfindmeamostrespectablebird.”
“Ihavenodoubtofit,”wasthepoliteanswer—thoughhethoughtinhisownmindthatMagmusthaveaverygoodopinionofherself.Butshewasaladyandastranger,soofcoursehewasciviltoher.
Shesettledherselfathiselbow,andbegantochatteraway,pointingoutwithoneskinnyclaw,whileshebalancedherselfontheother,everyobjectofinterest,evidentlybelieving,asnodoubtallitsinhabitantsdid,thattherewasnocapitalintheworldlikethegreatmetropolisofNomansland.
Ihavenotseenit,andthereforecannotdescribeit,sowewilljusttakeitupontrust,andsupposeittobe,likeeveryotherfinecity,thefinestcitythateverwasbuilt.Magsaidso—andofcoursesheknew.
Nevertheless,therewereafewthingsinitwhichsurprisedPrinceDolor—and,ashehadsaid,hecouldnotunderstandthematall.
Onehalfthepeopleseemedsohappyandbusy—hurryingupanddownthefullstreets,ordrivinglazilyalongtheparksintheirgrandcarriages,whiletheotherhalfweresowretchedandmiserable.
“Can’ttheworldbemadealittlemorelevel?IwouldtrytodoitifIwereaking.”
“Butyou’renottheking:onlyalittlegooseofaboy,”returnedthemagpieloftily.“AndI’mherenottoexplainthings,onlytoshowthem.ShallIshowyoutheroyalpalace?”
Itwasaverymagnificentpalace.Ithadterracesandgardens,battlementsandtowers.
Itextendedoveracresofground,andhadinitroomsenoughtoaccommodatehalfthecity.
Itswindowslookedinalldirections,butnoneofthemhadanyparticularview—exceptasmallone,highuptowardtheroof,whichlookedoutontheBeautifulMountains.
Butsincethequeendiedthereithadbeenclosed,boardedup,indeed,themagpiesaid.
Itwassolittleandinconvenientthatnobodycaredtoliveinit.
Besides,thelowerapartments,whichhadnoview,weremagnificent—worthyofbeinginhabitedbytheking.
“Ishouldliketoseetheking,”saidPrinceDolor.
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