Prince Ricardo of Pantouflia: Being the Adventures of Prince Prigio's SonLang, Andrew
Science
Prince Ricardo of Pantouflia: Being the Adventures of Prince Prigio's Son
Lang, Andrew
Children's stories; Fairy tales
The king and queen were sitting in the royal library, of which the
shelves were full of the most delightful fairy books in all languages,
all equally familiar to King Prigio. The queen could not read most of
them herself, but the king used to read them aloud to her. A good many
years had passed--seventeen, in fact--since Queen Rosalind was married,
but you would not think it to look at her. Her grey eyes were as kind
and soft and beautiful, her dark hair as dark, and her pretty colour as
like a white rose blushing, as on the day when she was a bride. And she
was as fond of the king as when he was only Prince Prigio, and he was as
fond of her as on the night when he first met her at the ball.
"No, I don't know what to do with Dick," said the king.
He meant his son, Prince Ricardo, but he called him Dick in private.
"I believe it's the fault of his education," his Majesty went on. "We
have not brought him up rightly. These fairy books are at the bottom of
his provoking behaviour," and he glanced round the shelves. "Now, when
_I_ was a boy, my dear mother tried to prevent me from reading fairy
books, because she did not believe in fairies."
"But she was wrong, you know," said the queen. "Why, if it had not been
for all these fairy presents, the Cap of Darkness and all the rest of
them, you never could have killed the Fire-beast and the Ice-beast,
and--you never could have married me," the queen added, in a happy
whisper, blushing beautifully, for that was a foolish habit of hers.
"It is quite true," said the king, "and therefore I thought it best to
bring Dick up on fairy books, that he might know what is right, and have
no nonsense about him. But perhaps the thing has been overdone; at all
events, it is not a success. I wonder if fathers and sons will ever
understand each other, and get on well together? There was my poor
father, King Grognio, he wanted me to take to adventures, like other
princes, fighting Firedrakes, and so forth; and I did not care for it,
till _you_ set me on," and he looked very kindly at her Majesty. "And
now, here's Dick," the monarch continued, "I can't hold him back. He is
always after a giant, or a dragon, or a magician, as the case may be; he
will certainly be ploughed for his examination at College. Never opens a
book. What does he care, off after every adventure he can hear about? An
idle, restless youth! Ah, my poor country, when I am gone, what may not
be your misfortunes under Ricardo!"
Here his Majesty sighed, and seemed plunged in thought.
"But you are not going yet, my dear," said the queen. "Why you are not
forty! And young people will be young people. You were quite proud when
poor Dick came home with his first brace of gigantic fierce birds, killed
off his own sword, and with such a pretty princess he had rescued--dear
Jaqueline? I'm sure she is like a daughter to me. I cannot do without
her."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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