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<h2> XVIII. HOW THEY ALL JOURNEYED BACK TO THE CAPITAL </h2>
<p>The Fairy Blackstick, by whose means this young King and Queen had
certainly won their respective crowns back, would come not unfrequently,
to pay them a little visit—as they were riding in their triumphal
progress towards Giglio’s capital—change her wand into a pony, and
travel by their Majesties’ side, giving them the very best advice. I am
not sure that King Giglio did not think the Fairy and her advice rather a
bore, fancying it was his own velour and merits which had put him on his
throne, and conquered Padella: and, in fine, I fear he rather gave himself
airs towards his best friend and patroness. She exhorted him to deal
justly by his subjects, to draw mildly on the taxes, never to break his
promise when he had once given it—and in all respects to be a good
King.</p>
<p>‘A good King, my dear Fairy!’ cries Rosalba. ‘Of course he will. Break his
promise! can you fancy my Giglio would ever do anything so improper, so
unlike him? No! never!’ And she looked fondly towards Giglio, whom she
thought a pattern of perfection.</p>
<p>‘Why is Fairy Blackstick always advising me, and telling me how to manage
my government, and warning me to keep my word? Does she suppose that I am
not a man of sense, and a man of honour?’ asks Giglio testily. ‘Methinks
she rather presumes upon her position.’</p>
<p>‘Hush! dear Giglio,’ says Rosalba. ‘You know Blackstick has been very kind
to us, and we must not offend her.’ But the Fairy was not listening to
Giglio’s testy observations, she had fallen back, and was trotting on her
pony now, by Master Bulbo’s side, who rode a donkey, and made himself
generally beloved in the army by his cheerfulness, kindness, and
good-humour to everybody. He was eager to see his darling Angelica. He
thought there never was such a charming being. Blackstick did not tell him
it was the possession of the magic rose that made Angelica so lovely in
his eyes. She brought him the very best accounts of his little wife, whose
misfortunes and humiliations had indeed very greatly improved her; and,
you see, she could whisk off on her wand a hundred miles in a minute, and
be back in no time, and so carry polite messages from Bulbo to Angelica,
and from Angelica to Bulbo, and comfort that young man upon his journey.</p>
<p>When the Royal party arrived at the last stage before you reach
Blombodinga, who should be in waiting, in her carriage there with her lady
of honour by her side, but the Princess Angelica! She rushed into her
husband’s arms, scarcely stopping to make a passing curtsey to the King
and Queen. She had no eyes but for Bulbo, who appeared perfectly lovely to
her on account of the fairy ring which he wore; whilst she herself,
wearing the magic rose in her bonnet, seemed entirely beautiful to the
enraptured Bulbo.</p>
<p>A splendid luncheon was served to the Royal party, of which the
Archbishop, the Chancellor, Duke Hedzoff, Countess Gruffanuff, and all our
friends partook, the Fairy Blackstick being seated on the left of King
Giglio, with Bulbo and Angelica beside her. You could hear the joy-bells
ringing in the capital, and the guns which the citizens were firing off in
honour of their Majesties.</p>
<p>‘What can have induced that hideous old Gruffanuff to dress herself up in
such an absurd way? Did you ask her to be your bridesmaid, my dear?’ says
Giglio to Rosalba. ‘What a figure of fun Gruffy is!’</p>
<p>Gruffy was seated opposite their Majesties, between the Archbishop and the
Lord Chancellor, and a figure of fun she certainly was, for she was
dressed in a low white silk dress, with lace over, a wreath of white roses
on her wig, a splendid lace veil, and her yellow old neck was covered with
diamonds. She ogled the King in such a manner that His Majesty burst out
laughing.</p>
<p>‘Eleven o’clock!’ cries Giglio, as the great Cathedral bell of Blombodinga
tolled that hour. ‘Gentlemen and ladies, we must be starting. Archbishop,
you must be at church, I think, before twelve?’</p>
<p>‘We must be at church before twelve,’ sighs out Gruffanuff in a
languishing voice, hiding her old face behind her fan.</p>
<p>‘And then I shall be the happiest man in my dominions,’ cries Giglio, with
an elegant bow to the blushing Rosalba.</p>
<p>‘Oh, my Giglio! Oh, my dear Majesty!’ exclaims Gruffanuff; ‘and can it be
that this happy moment at length has arrived—’</p>
<p>‘Of course it has arrived,’ says the King.</p>
<p>‘—and that I am about to become the enraptured bride of my adored
Giglio!’ continues Gruffanuff. ‘Lend me a smelling-bottle, somebody. I
certainly shall faint with joy.’</p>
<p>‘YOU my bride?’ roars out Giglio.</p>
<p>‘YOU marry my Prince?’ cried poor little Rosalba.</p>
<p>‘Pooh! Nonsense! The woman’s mad!’ exclaims the King. And all the
courtiers exhibited by their countenances and expressions, marks of
surprise, or ridicule, or incredulity, or wonder.</p>
<p>‘I should like to know who else is going to be married, if I am not?’
shrieks out Gruffanuff. ‘I should like to know if King Giglio is a
gentleman, and if there is such a thing as justice in Paflagonia? Lord
Chancellor! my Lord Archbishop! will your Lordships sit by and see a poor,
fond, confiding, tender creature put upon? Has not Prince Giglio promised
to marry his Barbara? Is not this Giglio’s signature? Does not this paper
declare that he is mine, and only mine?’ And she handed to his Grace the
Archbishop the document which the Prince signed that evening when she wore
the magic ring, and Giglio drank so much champagne. And the old
Archbishop, taking out his eyeglasses, read—</p>
<p>“‘This is to give notice, that I, Giglio, only son of Savio, King of
Paflagonia, hereby promise to marry the charming Barbara Griselda,
Countess Gruffanuff, and widow of the late Jenkins Gruffanuff, Esq.”</p>
<p>‘H’m,’ says the Archbishop, ‘the document is certainly a—a
document.’</p>
<p>‘Phoo!’ says the Lord Chancellor, ‘the signature is not in His Majesty’s
handwriting.’ Indeed, since his studies at Bosforo, Giglio had made an
immense improvement in caligraphy.</p>
<p>‘Is it your handwriting, Giglio?’ cries the Fairy Blackstick, with an
awful severity of countenance.</p>
<p>‘Y—y—y—es,’ poor Giglio gasps out, ‘I had quite
forgotten the confounded paper: she can’t mean to hold me by it. You old
wretch, what will you take to let me off? Help the Queen, some one—Her
Majesty has fainted.’</p>
<p>‘Chop her head off!’ } exclaim the impetuous ‘Smother the old witch!’ }
Hedzoff, the ardent Smith, and ‘Pitch her into the river!’ } the faithful
Jones.</p>
<p>But Gruffanuff flung her arms round the Archbishop’s neck, and bellowed
out, ‘Justice, justice, my Lord Chancellor!’ so loudly, that her piercing
shrieks caused everybody to pause. As for Rosalba, she was borne away
lifeless by her ladies; and you may imagine the look of agony which Giglio
cast towards that lovely being, as his hope, his joy, his darling, his all
in all, was thus removed, and in her place the horrid old Gruffanuff
rushed up to his side, and once more shrieked out, ‘Justice, justice!’</p>
<p>‘Won’t you take that sum of money which Glumboso hid?’ says Giglio; ‘two
hundred and eighteen thousand millions, or thereabouts. It’s a handsome
sum.’</p>
<p>‘I will have that and you too!’ says Gruffanuff.</p>
<p>‘Let us throw the crown jewels into the bargain,’ gasps out Giglio.</p>
<p>‘I will wear them by my Giglio’s side!’ says Gruffanuff.</p>
<p>‘Will half, three-quarters, five-sixths, nineteen-twentieths, of my
kingdom do, Countess?’ asks the trembling monarch.</p>
<p>‘What were all Europe to me without YOU, my Giglio?’ cries Gruff, kissing
his hand.</p>
<p>‘I won’t, I can’t, I shan’t,—I’ll resign the crown first,’ shouts
Giglio, tearing away his hand; but Gruff clung to it.</p>
<p>‘I have a competency, my love,’ she says, ‘and with thee and a cottage thy
Barbara will be happy.’</p>
<p>Giglio was half mad with rage by this time. ‘I will not marry her,’ says
he. ‘Oh, Fairy, Fairy, give me counsel?’ And as he spoke he looked wildly
round at the severe face of the Fairy Blackstick.</p>
<p>“‘Why is Fairy Blackstick always advising me, and warning me to keep my
word? Does she suppose that I am not a man of honour?”’ said the Fairy,
quoting Giglio’s own haughty words. He quailed under the brightness of her
eyes; he felt that there was no escape for him from that awful
inquisition.</p>
<p>‘Well, Archbishop,’ said he in a dreadful voice, that made his Grace
start, ‘since this Fairy has led me to the height of happiness but to dash
me down into the depths of despair, since I am to lose Rosalba, let me at
least keep my honour. Get up, Countess, and let us be married; I can keep
my word, but I can die afterwards.’</p>
<p>‘Oh, dear Giglio,’ cries Gruffanuff, skipping up, ‘I knew, I knew I could
trust thee—I knew that my Prince was the soul of honour. Jump into
your carriages, ladies and gentlemen, and let us go to church at once; and
as for dying, dear Giglio, no, no:—thou wilt forget that
insignificant little chambermaid of a Queen—thou wilt live to be
consoled by thy Barbara! She wishes to be a Queen, and not a Queen
Dowager, my gracious Lord!’ And hanging upon poor Giglio’s arm, and
leering and grinning in his face in the most disgusting manner, this old
wretch tripped off in her white satin shoes, and jumped into the very
carriage which had been got ready to convey Giglio and Rosalba to church.
The cannons roared again, the bells pealed triple-bobmajors, the people
came out flinging flowers upon the path of the royal bride and bridegroom,
and Gruff looked out of the gilt coach window and bowed and grinned to
them. Phoo! the horrid old wretch!</p>
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