“But neither your heart nor mine is ours to give. Since mine was another’s, I understand too well the feeling of _yours!_ Do not let us buy life at the price of happiness and honour.” Then, turning to the king the prince said: “Sir, is there no way but by death or marriage? You say you cannot keep half only of your promise; and that, if I accept the reward, I must also unite myself with my unwilling cousin. Cannot the whole proclamation be annulled, and will you consider the bargain void if I tear up this flimsy scroll?” And here the prince fluttered the cheque for £1,000,000 in the air. For a moment the king was tempted; but then he said to himself: “Never mind, it’s only an extra penny on the income-tax.” Then, “Keep your dross,” he shouted, meaning the million; “but let _me_ keep my promise. To chapel at once, or--” and he pointed to the executioner. “The word of a king of Pantouflia is sacred.” “And so is that of a crown prince,” answered Prigio; “and _mine_ is pledged to a lady.” “She shall be a mourning bride,” cried the king savagely, “unless”--here he paused for a moment--“unless you bring me back Alphohso and Enrico, safe and well!” The prince thought for the space of a flash of lightning. “I accept the alternative,” he said, “if your majesty will grant me my conditions.” “Name them!” said the king. “Let me be transported to Gluckstein, left there unguarded, and if, in three days, I do not return with my brothers safe and well, your majesty shall be spared a cruel duty. Prigio of Pantouflia will perish by his own hand.” The king, whose mind did not work very quickly, took some minutes to think over it. Then he saw that by granting the prince’s conditions, he would either recover his dear sons, or, at least, get rid of Prigio, without the unpleasantness of having him executed. For, though some kings have put their eldest sons to death, and most have wished to do so, they have never been better loved by the people for their Roman virtue. “Honour bright?” said the king at last. “Honour bright!” answered the prince, and for the first time in many months, the royal father and son shook hands. “For you, madam,” said Prigio in a stately way to Lady Molinda, “in less than a week I trust we shall be taking our vows at the same altar, and that the close of the ceremony which finds us cousins will leave us brother and sister.” Poor Molinda merely stared; for she could not imagine what he meant. In a moment he was gone; and having taken, by the king’s permission, the flying carpet, he was back at the ambassador’s house in Gluckstein. [Illustration: Chapter Seventeen] CHAPTER XVII.--_The Black Cat and the brethren_