The justice of Padella’s remark struck the magnanimous Giglio. “Do you yield yourself a prisoner, Padella?” says he. “Of course I do,” says Padella. “Do you acknowledge Rosalba as your rightful Queen, and give up the crown and all your treasures to your rightful mistress?” “If I must, I must,” says Padella, who was naturally very sulky. By this time King Giglio’s aides-de-camp had come up, whom His Majesty ordered to bind the prisoner. And they tied his hands behind him, and bound his legs tight under his horse, having set him with his face to the tail; and in this fashion he was led back to King Giglio’s quarters, and thrust into the very dungeon where young Bulbo had been confined. Padella (who was a very different person in the depth of his distress to Padella the proud wearer of the Crim Tartary crown), now most affectionately and earnestly asked to see his son—his dear eldest boy—his darling Bulbo; and that good-natured young man never once reproached his haughty parent for his unkind conduct the day before, when he would have left Bulbo to be shot without any pity, but came to see his father, and spoke to him through the grating of the door, beyond which he was not allowed to go; and brought him some sandwiches from the grand supper which His Majesty was giving above stairs, in honor of the brilliant victory which had just been achieved. “I cannot stay with you long, sir,” says Bulbo, who was in his best ball dress, as he handled his father in the prog, “I am engaged to dance the next quadrille with Her Majesty Queen Rosalba, and I hear the fiddles playing at this very moment.” So Bulbo went back to the ball-room, and the wretched Padella ate his solitary supper in silence and tears. * * * * *