The Brass Bottle
Page 15
CHAPTER XV
BLUSHING HONOURS
It was rather late the next morning when Ventimore opened his eyes, todiscover the Jinnee standing by the foot of his bed. "Oh, it's _you_, isit?" he said sleepily. "How did you--a--get on last night?"
"I gained such information as I desired," said Fakrash, guardedly; "andnow, for the last time, I am come to ask thee whether thou wilt stillpersist in refusing to wed the illustrious Bedeea-el-Jemal? And have acare how thou answerest."
"So you haven't given up the idea?" said Horace. "Well, since you makesuch a point of it, I'll meet you as far as this. If you produce thelady, and she consents to marry me, I won't decline the honour. Butthere's one condition I really _must_ insist on."
"It is not for thee to make stipulations. Still, yet this once I willhear thee."
"I'm sure you'll see that it's only fair. Supposing, for any reason, youcan't persuade the Princess to meet me within a reasonable time--shallwe say a week?----"
"Thou shalt be admitted to her presence within twenty-four hours," saidthe Jinnee.
"That's better still. Then, if I don't see her within twenty-four hours,I am to be at liberty to infer that the negotiations are off, and I maymarry anybody else I please, without any opposition from you? Is thatunderstood?"
"It is agreed," said Fakrash, "for I am confident that Bedeea willaccept thee joyfully."
"We shall see," said Horace. "But it might be as well if you went andprepared her a little. I suppose you know where to find her--and you'veonly twenty-four hours, you know."
"More than is needed," answered the Jinnee, with such childlikeconfidence, that Horace felt almost ashamed of so easy a victory. "Butthe sun is already high. Arise, my son, put on these robes"--and withthis he flung on the bed the magnificent raiment which Ventimore hadlast worn on the night of his disastrous entertainment--"and when thouhast broken thy fast, prepare to accompany me."
"Before I agree to that," said Horace, sitting up in bed, "I should liketo know where you're taking me to."
"Obey me without demur," said Fakrash, "or thou knowest theconsequences."
It seemed to Horace that it was as well to humour him, and he got upaccordingly, washed and shaved, and, putting on his dazzling robe ofcloth-of-gold thickly sewn with gems, he joined Fakrash--who, by theway, was similarly, if less gorgeously, arrayed--in the sitting-room, ina state of some mystification.
"Eat quickly," commanded the Jinnee, "for the time is short." AndHorace, after hastily disposing of a cold poached egg and a cup ofcoffee, happened to go to the windows.
"Good Heavens!" he cried. "What does all this mean?"
He might well ask. On the opposite side of the road, by the railings ofthe square, a large crowd had collected, all staring at the house ineager expectation. As they caught sight of him they raised a cheer,which caused him to retreat in confusion, but not before he had seen agreat golden chariot with six magnificent coal-black horses, and a suiteof swarthy attendants in barbaric liveries, standing by the pavementbelow. "Whose carriage is that?" he asked.
"It belongs to thee," said the Jinnee; "descend then, and make thyprogress in it through the City."
"I will not," said Horace. "Even to oblige you I simply can't drivealong the streets in a thing like the band-chariot of a travellingcircus."
"It is necessary," declared Fakrash. "Must I again recall to thee thepenalty of disobedience?"
"Oh, very well," said Horace, irritably. "If you insist on my making afool of myself, I suppose I must. But where am I to drive, and why?"
"That," replied Fakrash, "thou shalt discover at the fitting moment."And so, amidst the shouts of the spectators, Ventimore climbed up intothe strange-looking vehicle, while the Jinnee took his seat by his side.Horace had a parting glimpse of Mr. and Mrs. Rapkin's respective nosesflattened against the basement window, and then two dusky slaves mountedto a seat at the back of the chariot, and the horses started off at astately trot in the direction of Rochester Row.
"I think you might tell me what all this means," he said. "You've noconception what an ass I feel, stuck up here like this!"
"Dismiss bashfulness from thee, since all this is designed to renderthee more acceptable in the eyes of the Princess Bedeea," said theJinnee.
Horace said no more, though he could not but think that this paradewould be thrown away.
But as they turned into Victoria Street and seemed to be headingstraight for the Abbey, a horrible thought occurred to him. After all,his only authority for the marriage and decease of Bedeea was the"Arabian Nights," which was not unimpeachable evidence. What if she werealive and waiting for the arrival of the bridegroom? No one but Fakrashwould have conceived such an idea as marrying him to a Jinneeyeh inWestminster Abbey; but he was capable of any extravagance, and therewere apparently no limits to his power.
"Mr. Fakrash," he said hoarsely, "surely this isn't my--my wedding day?You're not going to have the ceremony _there_?"
"Nay," said the Jinnee, "be not impatient. For this edifice would betotally unfitted for the celebration of such nuptials as thine."
As he spoke, the chariot left the Abbey on the right and turned down theEmbankment. The relief was so intense that Horace's spirits roseirrepressibly. It was absurd to suppose that even Fakrash could havearranged the ceremony in so short a time. He was merely being taken fora drive, and fortunately his best friends could not recognise him in hisOriental disguise. And it was a glorious morning, with a touch of frostin the air and a sky of streaky turquoise and pale golden clouds; thebroad river glittered in the sunshine; the pavements were lined withadmiring crowds, and the carriage rolled on amidst frantic enthusiasm,like some triumphal car.
"How they're cheering us!" said Horace. "Why, they couldn't make morerow for the Lord Mayor himself."
"What is this Lord Mayor of whom thou speakest?" inquired Fakrash.
"The Lord Mayor?" said Horace. "Oh, he's unique. There's nobody in theworld quite like him. He administers the law, and if there's anydistress in any part of the earth he relieves it. He entertains monarchsand Princes and all kinds of potentates at his banquets, and altogetherhe's a tremendous swell."
"Hath he dominion over the earth and the air and all that is therein?"
"Within his own precincts, I believe he has," said Horace, ratherlazily, "but I really don't know precisely how wide his powers are." Hewas vainly trying to recollect whether such matters as sky-signs,telephones, and telegraphs in the City were within the Lord Mayor'sjurisdiction or the County Council's.
Fakrash remained silent just as they were driving underneath CharingCross Railway Bridge, when he started perceptibly at the thunder of thetrains overhead and the piercing whistles of the engines. "Tell me," hesaid, clutching Horace by the arm, "what meaneth this?"
"You don't mean to say," said Horace, "that you have been about Londonall these days, and never noticed things like these before?"
"Till now," said the Jinnee, "I have had no leisure to observe them anddiscover their nature."
"Well," said Horace, anxious to let the Jinnee see that he had not themonopoly of miracles, "since your days we have discovered how to tame orchain the great forces of Nature and compel them to do our will. Wecontrol the Spirits of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water, and make them giveus light and heat, carry our messages, fight our quarrels for us,transport us wherever we wish to go, with a certainty and precision thatthrow even your performances, my dear sir, entirely into the shade."
Considering what a very large majority of civilised persons would be aspowerless to construct the most elementary machine as to create thehumblest kind of horse, it is not a little odd how complacently wecredit ourselves with all the latest achievements of our generation.Most of us accept the amazement of the simple-minded barbarian on hisfirst introduction to modern inventions as a gratifying personaltribute: we feel a certain superiority, even if we magnanimously refrainfrom boastfulness. And yet our own particular share in these discoveriesis limited to making use of them under expert gu
idance, which anybarbarian, after overcoming his first terror, is quite as competent todo as we are.
It is a harmless vanity enough, and especially pardonable in Ventimore'scase, when it was so desirable to correct any tendency to "uppishness"on the part of the Jinnee.
"And doth the Lord Mayor dispose of these forces at his will?" inquiredFakrash, on whom Ventimore's explanation had evidently produced someimpression.
"Certainly," said Horace; "whenever he has occasion."
The Jinnee seemed engrossed in his own thoughts, for he said no morejust then.
They were now nearing St. Paul's Cathedral, and Horace's first suspicionreturned with double force.
"Mr. Fakrash, answer me," he said. "Is this my wedding day or not? If itis, it's time I was told!"
"Not yet," said the Jinnee, enigmatically, and indeed it proved to beanother false alarm, for they turned down Cannon Street and towards theMansion House.
"Perhaps you can tell me why we're going through Victoria Street, andwhat all this crowd has come out for?" asked Ventimore. For the throngwas denser than ever; the people surged and swayed in serried ranksbehind the City police, and gazed with a wonder and awe that for onceseemed to have entirely silenced the Cockney instinct of _persiflage_.
"For what else but to do thee honour?" answered Fakrash.
"What bosh!" said Horace. "They mistake me for the Shah or somebody--andno wonder, in this get-up."
"Not so," said the Jinnee. "Thy names are familiar to them."
Horace glanced up at the hastily improvised decorations; on one largestrip of bunting which spanned the street he read: "Welcome to theCity's most distinguished guest!" "They can't mean me," he thought; andthen another legend caught his eye: "Well done, Ventimore!" And anenthusiastic householder next door had burst into poetry and displayedthe couplet--
"Would we had twenty more Like Horace Ventimore!"
"They _do_ mean me!" he exclaimed. "Now, Mr. Fakrash, _will_ you kindlyexplain what tomfoolery you've been up to now? I know you're at thebottom of this business."
It struck him that the Jinnee was slightly embarrassed. "Didst thou notsay," he replied, "that he who should receive the freedom of the Cityfrom his fellow-men would be worthy of Bedeea-el-Jemal?"
"I may have said something of the sort. But, good heavens! you don'tmean that you have contrived that _I_ should receive the freedom of theCity?"
"It was the easiest affair possible," said the Jinnee, but he did notattempt to meet Horace's eye.
"Was it, though?" said Horace, in a white rage. "I don't want to beinquisitive, but I should like to know what I've done to deserve it?"
"Why trouble thyself with the reason? Let it suffice thee that suchhonour is bestowed upon thee."
By this time the chariot had crossed Cheapside and was entering KingStreet.
"This really won't do!" urged Horace. "It's not fair to me. Either I'vedone something, or you must have made the Corporation _believe_ I'vedone something, to be received like this. And, as we shall be in theGuildhall in a very few seconds, you may as well tell me what it is!"
"Regarding that matter," replied the Jinnee, in some confusion, "I amtruly as ignorant as thyself."
As he spoke they drove through some temporary wooden gates into thecourtyard, where the Honourable Artillery Company presented arms tothem, and the carriage drew up before a large marquee decorated withshields and clustered banners.
"Well, Mr. Fakrash," said Horace, with suppressed fury, as he alighted,"you have surpassed yourself this time. You've got me into a nicescrape, and you'll have to pull me through it as well as you can."
"Have no uneasiness," said the Jinnee, as he accompanied his _protege_into the marquee, which was brilliant with pretty women in smart frocks,officers in scarlet tunics and plumed hats, and servants in Stateliveries.
Their entrance was greeted by a politely-subdued buzz of applause andadmiration, and an official, who introduced himself as the Prime Wardenof the Candlestick-makers' Company, advanced to meet them. "The LordMayor will receive you in the library," he said. "If you will have thekindness to follow me----"
Horace followed him mechanically. "I'm in for it now," he thought,"whatever it is. If I can only trust Fakrash to back me up--but I'mhanged if I don't believe he's more nervous than I am!"
As they came into the noble Library of the Guildhall a fine string bandstruck up, and Horace, with the Jinnee in his rear, made his way througha lane of distinguished spectators towards a dais, on the steps ofwhich, in his gold-trimmed robes and black-feather hat, stood the LordMayor, with his sword and mace-bearers on either hand, and behind him arow of beaming sheriffs.
A truly stately and imposing figure did the Chief Magistrate for thatparticular year present: tall, dignified, with a lofty forehead whosepolished temples reflected the light, an aquiline nose, and piercingblack eyes under heavy white eyebrows, a frosty pink in his wrinkledcheeks, and a flowing silver beard with a touch of gold still lingeringunder the lower lip: he seemed, as he stood there, a worthyrepresentative of the greatest and richest city in the world.
Horace approached the steps with an unpleasant sensation of weakness atthe knees, and no sort of idea what he was expected to do or say when hearrived.
And, in his perplexity, he turned for support and guidance to hisself-constituted mentor--only to discover that the Jinnee, whoseshort-sightedness and ignorance had planted him in this present falseposition, had mysteriously and perfidiously disappeared, and left him tograpple with the situation single-handed.