The Little Lame Prince and His Travelling Cloak

by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

  CHAPTER IV.

  And what of the travelling-cloak? What sort of cloak was it, and whatgood did it do the Prince?

  Stay, and I'll tell you all about it.

  Outside it was the commonest-looking bundle imaginable--shabby andsmall; and the instant Prince Dolor touched it, it grew smaller still,dwindling down till he could put it in his trousers pocket, like ahandkerchief rolled up into a ball. He did this at once, for fear hisnurse should see it, and kept it there all day--all night, too. Tillafter his next morning's lessons he had no opportunity of examining histreasure.

  When he did, it seemed no treasure at all; but a mere piece ofcloth--circular in form, dark green in colour, that is, if it had anycolour at all, being so worn and shabby, though not dirty. It had asplit cut to the centre, forming a round hole for the neck--and thatwas all its shape; the shape, in fact, of those cloaks which in SouthAmerica are called _ponchos_--very simple, but most graceful andconvenient.

  Prince Dolor had never seen anything like it. In spite of hisdisappointment he examined it curiously; spread it out on the floor,then arranged it on his shoulders. It felt very warm and comfortable;but it was so exceedingly shabby--the only shabby thing that the Princehad ever seen in his life.

  "_Prince Dolor had never seen anything like it. In spiteof his disappointment he examined it curiously._"]

  "And what use will it be to me?" said he sadly. "I have no need ofoutdoor clothes, as I never go out. Why was this given me, I wonder?and what in the world am I to do with it? She must be a rather funnyperson, this dear godmother of mine."

  Nevertheless, because she was his godmother, and had given him thecloak, he folded it carefully and put it away, poor and shabby as itwas, hiding it in a safe corner of his toy-cupboard, which his nursenever meddled with. He did not want her to find it, or to laugh at it,or at his godmother--as he felt sure she would, if she knew all.

  There it lay, and by-and-by he forgot all about it; nay, I am sorryto say, that, being but a child, and not seeing her again, he almostforgot his sweet old godmother, or thought of her only as he did of theangels or fairies that he read of in his books, and of her visit as ifit had been a mere dream of the night.

  There were times, certainly, when he recalled her; of early morningslike that morning when she appeared beside him, and late evenings, whenthe grey twilight reminded him of the colour of her hair and her prettysoft garments; above all, when, waking in the middle of the night,with the stars peering in at his window, or the moonlight shiningacross his little bed, he would not have been surprised to see herstanding beside it, looking at him with those beautiful tender eyes,which seemed to have a pleasantness and comfort in them different fromanything he had ever known.

  But she never came, and gradually she slipped out of his memory--onlya boy's memory, after all; until something happened which made himremember her, and want her as he had never wanted anything before.

  Prince Dolor fell ill. He caught--his nurse could not tell how--acomplaint common to the people of Nomansland, called the doldrums,as unpleasant as measles or any other of our complaints; and it madehim restless, cross, and disagreeable. Even when a little better, hewas too weak to enjoy anything, but lay all day long on his sofa,fidgetting his nurse extremely--while, in her intense terror lest hemight die, she fidgetted him still more. At last, seeing he really wasgetting well, she left him to himself--which he was most glad of, inspite of his dulness and dreariness. There he lay, alone, quite alone.

  "_Even when a little better, he was too weak to enjoyanything, but lay all day long on his sofa, fidgetting his nurseextremely._"]

  Now and then an irritable fit came over him, in which he longed to getup and do something, or go somewhere--would have liked to imitate hiswhite kitten--jump down from the tower and run away, taking the chanceof whatever might happen.

  Only one thing, alas! was likely to happen; for the kitten, heremembered, had four active legs, while he----

  "I wonder what my godmother meant when she looked at my legs and sighedso bitterly? I wonder why I can't walk straight and steady like mynurse--only I wouldn't like to have her great noisy, clumping shoes.Still, it would be very nice to move about quickly--perhaps to fly,like a bird, like that string of birds I saw the other day skimmingacross the sky--one after the other."

  These were the passage-birds--the only living creatures that evercrossed the lonely plain; and he had been much interested in them,wondering whence they came and whither they were going.

  "How nice it must be to be a bird. If legs are no good, why cannot onehave wings? People have wings when they die--perhaps: I wish I wasdead, that I do. I am so tired, so tired; and nobody cares for me.Nobody ever did care for me, except perhaps my godmother. Godmother,dear, have you quite forsaken me?"

  He stretched himself wearily, gathered himself up, and dropped hishead upon his hands; as he did so, he felt somebody kiss him at theback of his neck, and turning, found that he was resting, not on thesofa-pillows, but on a warm shoulder--that of the little old womanclothed in grey.

  How glad he was to see her! How he looked into her kind eyes, and felther hands, to see if she were all real and alive! then put both hisarms round her neck, and kissed her as if he would never have donekissing!

  "Stop, stop!" cried she, pretending to be smothered, "I see you havenot forgotten my teachings. Kissing is a good thing--in moderation.Only, just let me have breath to speak one word."

  "A dozen!" he said.

  "Well, then, tell me all that has happened to you since I saw you--orrather, since you saw me, which is a quite different thing."

  "Nothing has happened--nothing ever does happen to me," answered thePrince dolefully.

  "And are you very dull, my boy?"

  "So dull, that I was just thinking whether I could not jump down to thebottom of the tower like my white kitten."

  "Don't do that, being not a white kitten."

  "I wish I were!--I wish I were anything but what I am!"

  "And you can't make yourself any different, nor can I do it either. Youmust be content to stay just what you are."

  The little old woman said this--very firmly, but gently, too--with herarms round his neck, and her lips on his forehead. It was the firsttime the boy had ever heard any one talk like this, and he looked up insurprise--but not in pain, for her sweet manner softened the hardnessof her words.

  "Now, my prince--for you are a prince, and must behave as such--let ussee what we can do; how much I can do for you, or show you how to dofor yourself. Where is your travelling-cloak?"

  Prince Dolor blushed extremely. "I--I put it away in the cupboard; Isuppose it is there still."

  "You have never used it; you dislike it?"

  He hesitated, not wishing to be impolite. "Don't you think it's--just alittle old and shabby, for a prince?"

  The old woman laughed--long and loud, though very sweetly.

  "Prince, indeed! Why, if all the princes in the world craved for it,they couldn't get it, unless I gave it them. Old and shabby! It's themost valuable thing imaginable! Very few ever have it; but I thought Iwould give it to you, because--because you are different from otherpeople."

  "Am I?" said the Prince, and looked first with curiosity, then with asort of anxiety, into his godmother's face, which was sad and grave,with slow tears beginning to steal down.

  She touched his poor little legs. "These are not like those of otherlittle boys."

  "Indeed!--my nurse never told me that."

  "Very likely not. But it is time you were told; and I tell you, becauseI love you."

  "Tell me what, dear godmother?"

  "That you will never be able to walk, or run, or jump, or play--thatyour life will be quite different to most people's lives: but it may bea very happy life for all that. Do not be afraid."

  "I am not afraid," said the boy; but he turned very pale, and his lipsbegan to quiver, though he did not actually cry--he was too old forthat, and, perhaps, too proud.

&n
bsp; Though not wholly comprehending, he began dimly to guess what hisgodmother meant. He had never seen any real live boys, but he had seenpictures of them; running and jumping; which he had admired and triedhard to imitate, but always failed. Now he began to understand why hefailed, and that he always should fail--that, in fact, he was not likeother little boys; and it was of no use his wishing to do as they did,and play as they played, even if he had had them to play with. His wasa separate life, in which he must find out new work and new pleasuresfor himself.

  The sense of _the inevitable_, as grown-up people call it--that wecannot have things as we want them to be, but as they are, and that wemust learn to bear them and make the best of them--this lesson, whicheverybody has to learn soon or late--came, alas! sadly soon, to thepoor boy. He fought against it for a while, and then, quite overcome,turned and sobbed bitterly in his godmother's arms.

  She comforted him--I do not know how, except that love always comforts;and then she whispered to him, in her sweet, strong, cheerfulvoice--"Never mind!"

  "No, I don't think I do mind--that is, I _won't_ mind," replied he,catching the courage of her tone and speaking like a man, though he wasstill such a mere boy.

  "That is right, my prince!--that is being like a prince. Now we knowexactly where we are; let us put our shoulders to the wheel and----"

  "We are in Hopeless Tower" (this was its name, if it had a name), "andthere is no wheel to put our shoulders to," said the child sadly.

  "You little matter-of-fact goose! Well for you that you have agodmother called----"

  "What?" he eagerly asked.

  "Stuff-and-nonsense."

  "Stuff-and-nonsense! What a funny name!"

  "Some people give it me, but they are not my most intimate friends.These call me--never mind what," added the old woman, with a softtwinkle in her eyes. "So as you know me, and know me well, you may giveme any name you please; it doesn't matter. But I am your godmother,child. I have few godchildren; those I have love me dearly, and find methe greatest blessing in all the world."

  "I can well believe it," cried the little lame Prince, and forgothis troubles in looking at her--as her figure dilated, her eyes grewlustrous as stars, her very raiment brightened, and the whole roomseemed filled with her beautiful and beneficent presence like light.

  He could have looked at her for ever--half in love, half in awe; butshe suddenly dwindled down into the little old woman all in grey, andwith a malicious twinkle in her eyes, asked for the travelling-cloak.

  "Bring it out of the rubbish cupboard, and shake the dust offit, quick!" said she to Prince Dolor, who hung his head, ratherashamed. "Spread it out on the floor, and wait till the split closesand the edges turn up like a rim all round. Then go and open thesky-light--mind, I say _open the skylight_--set yourself down in themiddle of it, like a frog on a water-lily leaf; say 'Abracadabra, dumdum dum,' and--see what will happen!"

  The prince burst into a fit of laughing. It all seemed so exceedinglysilly; he wondered that a wise old woman like his godmother should talksuch nonsense.

  "Stuff-and-nonsense, you mean," said she, answering, to his greatalarm, his unspoken thoughts. "Did I not tell you some people called meby that name? Never mind; it doesn't harm me."

  And she laughed--her merry laugh--as child-like as if she were theprince's age instead of her own, whatever that might be. She certainlywas a most extraordinary old woman.

  "Believe me or not, it doesn't matter," said she. "Here is the cloak:when you want to go travelling on it, say _Abracadabra, dum dum dum_;when you want to come back again, say _Abracadabra, tum tum ti_. That'sall; good-bye."

  A puff of pleasant air passing by him, and making him feel for themoment quite strong and well, was all the Prince was conscious of. Hismost extraordinary godmother was gone.

  "Really now, how rosy your Royal Highness's cheeks have grown! You seemto have got well already," said the nurse, entering the room.

  "I think I have," replied the Prince very gently--he felt kindly andgently even to his grim nurse. "And now let me have my dinner, and goyou to your sewing as usual."

  The instant she was gone, however, taking with her the platesand dishes, which for the first time since his illness he hadsatisfactorily cleared, Prince Dolor sprang down from his sofa, andwith one or two of his frog-like jumps, not graceful but convenient, hereached the cupboard where he kept his toys, and looked everywhere forhis travelling-cloak.

  Alas! it was not there.

  While he was ill of the doldrums, his nurse, thinking it a goodopportunity for putting things to rights, had made a grand clearanceof all his "rubbish," as she considered it: his beloved headlesshorses, broken carts, sheep without feet, and birds without wings--allthe treasures of his baby days, which he could not bear to part with.Though he seldom played with them now, he liked just to feel they werethere.

  They were all gone! and with them the travelling-cloak. He sat down onthe floor, looking at the empty shelves, so beautifully clean and tidy,then burst out sobbing as if his heart would break.

  But quietly--always quietly. He never let his nurse hear him cry. Sheonly laughed at him, as he felt she would laugh now.

  "And it is all my own fault," he cried. "I ought to have taken bettercare of my godmother's gift. O, godmother, forgive me! I'll never be socareless again. I don't know what the cloak is exactly, but I am sureit is something precious. Help me to find it again. Oh, don't let it bestolen from me--don't, please!"

  "Ha, ha, ha!" laughed a silvery voice. "Why, that travelling-cloak isthe one thing in the world which nobody can steal. It is of no use toanybody except the owner. Open your eyes, my prince, and see what youshall see."

  His dear old godmother, he thought, had turned eagerly round. But no;he only beheld, lying in a corner of the room, all dust and cobwebs,his precious travelling-cloak.

  Prince Dolor darted towards it, tumbling several times on the way,--ashe often did tumble, poor boy! and pick himself up again, nevercomplaining. Snatching it to his breast, he hugged and kissed it,cobwebs and all, as if it had been something alive. Then he beganunrolling it, wondering each minute what would happen. But what didhappen was so curious that I must leave it for another chapter.