by A. A. Milne
CHAPTER XIII
"PINK" RHYMES WITH "THINK"
Udo awoke, slightly refreshed, and decided to take a firm line withthe Countess at once. He had no difficulty about finding his way downto her. The Palace seemed to be full of servants, all apparently busyabout something which brought them for a moment in sight of the newlyarrived Prince, and then whisked them off, hand to mouth and shouldersshaking. By one of these, with more control over her countenance thanthe others, an annoyed Udo was led into Belvane's garden.
She was walking up and down the flagged walk between her lavenderhedges, and as he came in she stopped and rested her elbows on hersundial, and looked mockingly at him, waiting for him to speak."Between the showers I mark the hours," said the sundial (on thesuggestion of Belvane one wet afternoon), but for the moment theCountess was in the way.
"Ah, here we are," said Udo in rather a nasty voice.
"Here we are," said Belvane sweetly. "All of us."
Suddenly she began to laugh.
"Oh, Prince Udo," she said, "you'll be the death of me. Count me asone more of your victims."
It is easy to be angry with any one who will laugh at you all thetime, but difficult to be effective; particularly when--but we neednot dwell upon Udo's handicap again.
"I don't see anything to laugh at," he said stiffly. "To intelligentpeople the outside appearance is not everything."
"But it can be very funny, can't it?" said Belvane coaxingly. "Iwished for something humorous to happen to you, but I neverthought----"
"Ah," said Udo, "now we've got it."
He spoke with an air of a clever cross-examiner who has skilfullyextracted an admission from a reluctant witness. This sort of tonegoes best with one of those keen legal faces; perhaps that is whyBelvane laughed again.
"You practically confess that you did it," went on Udo magnificently.
"Did what?"
"Turned me into a--a----"
"A rabbit?" said Belvane innocently.
A foolish observation like this always pained Udo.
"What makes you think I'm a rabbit?" he asked.
"I don't mind what you are, but you'll never dare show yourself in thecountry like this."
"Be careful, woman; don't drive me too far. Beware lest you rouse thelion in me."
"Where?" asked Belvane, with a child-like air.
With a gesture full of dignity and good breeding Udo called attentionto his tail.
"That," said the Countess, "is not the part of the lion that I'mafraid of."
For the moment Udo was nonplussed, but he soon recovered himself.
"Even supposing--just for the sake of argument--that I am a rabbit, Istill have something up my sleeve; I'll come and eat your youngcarnations."
Belvane adored her garden, but she was sustained by the thought thatit was only July just now. She pointed this out to him.
"It needn't necessarily be carnations," he warned her.
"I don't want to put my opinion against one who has (forgive me)inside knowledge on the subject, but I think I have nothing in mygarden at this moment that would agree with a rabbit."
"I don't mind if it _doesn't_ agree with me," said Udo heroically.
This was more serious. Her dear garden in which she composed, ruinedby the mastications--machinations--what was the word?--of an enemy!The thought was unbearable.
"You aren't a rabbit," she said hastily; "you aren't really a rabbit.Because--because you don't _woffle_ your nose properly."
"I could," said Udo simply. "I'm just keeping it back, that's all."
"Show me how," cried Belvane, clasping her hands eagerly together.
It was not what he had come into the garden for, and it accorded illwith the dignity of the Royal House of Araby, but somehow one got ledon by this wicked woman.
"Like this," said Udo.
The Countess looked at him critically with her head on one side.
"No," she said, "that's quite wrong."
"Naturally I'm a little out of practice."
"I'm sorry," said Belvane. "I'm afraid I can't pass you."
Udo couldn't think what had happened to the conversation. With agreat effort he extracted himself from it.
"Enough of this, Countess," he said sternly. "I have your admissionthat it was you who put this enchantment on me."
"It was I. I wasn't going to have you here interfering with myplans."
"Your plans to rob the Princess."
Belvane felt that it was useless to explain the principles oflargesse-throwing to Udo. There will always be men like Udo and RogerScurvilegs who take these narrow matter-of-fact views. One merelywastes time in arguing with them.
"My plans," she repeated.
"Very well. I shall go straight to the Princess, and she will unmaskyou before the people."
Belvane smiled happily. One does not often get such a chance.
"And who," she asked sweetly, "will unmask your Royal Highness beforethe people, so that they may see the true Prince Udo underneath?"
"What do you mean?" said Udo, though he was beginning to guess.
"That noble handsome countenance which is so justly the pride ofAraby--how shall we show that to the people? They'll form such amistaken idea of it if they all see you like this, won't they?"
Udo was quite sure now that he understood. Hyacinth had understood atthe very beginning.
_He forgot his manners, and made a jump towards her_]
_She glided gracefully behind the sundial in a prettyaffectation of alarm_]
"You mean that if the Princess Hyacinth falls in with your plans, youwill restore me to my proper form, but that otherwise you will leaveme like this?"
"One's actions are very much misunderstood," sighed Belvane. "I've nodoubt that that is how it will appear to future historians."
(To Roger, certainly.)
It was too much for Udo. He forgot his manners and made a jumptowards her. She glided gracefully behind the sundial in a prettyaffectation of alarm . . . and the next moment Udo decided that thecontest between them was not to be settled by such rough-and-tumblemethods as these. The fact that his tail had caught in somethinghelped him to decide.
Belvane was up to him in an instant.
"There, there!" she said soothingly, "Let _me_ undo it for your RoyalHighness." She talked pleasantly as she worked at it. "Every littleaccident teaches us something. Now if you'd been a rabbit thiswouldn't have happened."
"No, I'm not even a rabbit," said Udo sadly. "I'm just nothing."
Belvane stood up and made him a deep curtsey.
"You are his Royal Highness Prince Udo of Araby. Your RoyalHighness's straw is prepared. When will your Royal Highness bepleased to retire?"
It was a little unkind, I think. I should not record it of her werenot Roger so insistent.
"Now," said Udo, and lolloped sadly off. It was his one reallydignified moment in Euralia.
On his way to his apartment he met Wiggs.
"Wiggs," he said solemnly, "if ever you can do anything to annoy thatwoman, such as making her an apple-pie bed, or _anything_ like that, Iwish you'd do it."
Whereupon he retired for the night. Into the mysteries of his toiletwe had perhaps better not inquire.
* * * * *
As the chronicler of these simple happenings many years ago, it is myduty to be impartial. "These are the facts," I should say, "and it isfor your nobilities to judge of them. Thus and thus my charactershave acted; how say you, my lords and ladies?"
I confess that this attitude is beyond me; I have a fondness for allmy people, and I would not have you misunderstand any of them. Butwith regard to one of them there is no need for me to say anything inher defence. About her at any rate we agree.
I mean Wiggs. We take the same view as Hyacinth: she was the bestlittle girl in Euralia. It will come then as a shock to you (as itdid to me on the morning after I had staggered home with Roger'sseventeen volumes) to learn that on her day Wiggs c
ould be as bad asanybody. I mean really bad. To tear your frock, to read books whichyou ought to be dusting, these are accidents which may happen toanybody. Far otherwise was Wiggs's fall.
She adopted, in fact, the infamous suggestion of Prince Udo. Threenights later, with malice aforethought and to the comfort of theKing's enemies and the prejudice of the safety of the realm, she madean apple-pie bed for the Countess.
It was the most perfect apple-pie bed ever made. Cox himself couldnot have improved upon it; Newton has seen nothing like it. It tookWiggs a whole morning; and the results, though private (that is theworst of an apple-pie bed), were beyond expectation. After wrestlingfor half an hour the Countess spent the night in a garden hammock,composing a bitter Ode to Melancholy.
Of course Wiggs caught it in the morning; the Countess suspected whatshe could not prove. Wiggs, now in for a thoroughly bad week,realised that it was her turn again. What should she do?
An inspiration came to her. She had been really bad the day before;it was a pity to waste such perfect badness as that. Why not have theone bad wish to which the ring entitled her?
She drew the ring out from its hiding-place round her neck.
"I wish," she said, holding it up, "I wish that the CountessBelvane----" she stopped to think of something that would really annoyher--"I wish that the Countess shall never be able to write anotherrhyme again."
She held her breath, expecting a thunderclap or some other outwardtoken of the sudden death of Belvane's muse. Instead she was struck bythe extraordinary silence of the place. She had a horrid feeling thateverybody else was dead, and realising all at once that she was a verywicked little girl, she ran up to her room and gave herself up totears.
MAY YOU, DEAR SIR OR MADAM, REPENT AS QUICKLY!
However, this is not a moral work. An hour later Wiggs came intoBelvane's garden, eager to discover in what way her inability to rhymewould manifest itself. It seemed that she had chosen the exactmoment.
In the throes of composition Belvane had quite forgotten the apple-piebed, so absorbing is our profession. She welcomed Wiggs eagerly, andtaking her hand led her towards the roses.
"I have just been talking to my dear roses," she said. "Listen:
_Whene'er I take my walks about,_ _I like to see the roses out;_ _I like them yellow, white, and pink,_ _But crimson are the best, I think._ _The butterfly----_"
But we shall never know about the butterfly. It may be that Wiggs haslost us here a thought on lepidoptera which the world can ill spare;for she interrupted breathlessly.
"When did you write that?"
"I was just making it up when you came in, dear child. These thoughtsoften come to me as I walk up and down my beautiful garden. '_Thebutterfly----_'"
But Wiggs had let go her hand and was running back to the Palace. Shewanted to be alone to think this out.
What had happened? That it was truly a magic ring, as the fairy hadtold her, she had no doubt; that her wish was a bad one, that she hadbeen bad enough to earn it, she was equally certain. What then hadhappened? There was only one answer to her question. The bad wishhad been granted to someone else.
To whom? She had lent the ring to nobody. True, she had told thePrincess all about it, but----
Suddenly she remembered. The Countess had had it in her hands for amoment. Yes, and she had sent her out of the room, and--
So many thoughts crowded into Wiggs's mind at this moment that shefelt she must share them with somebody. She ran off to find thePrincess.