She was touched by the honest fellow’s sympathy, promised to restore to him the confiscated estates of Duke Padella his father, and created him, as he sat there in the coach, Prince, Highness, and First Grandee of the Crim Tartar Empire. The coach moved on, and, being a fairy coach, soon came up with the bridal procession. Before the ceremony at the church it was the custom in Paflagonia, as it is in other countries, for the bride and bridegroom to sign the Contract of Marriage, which was to be witnessed by the Chancellor, Minister, Lord Mayor, and principal officers of state. Now, as the royal palace was being painted and furnished anew, it was not ready for the reception of the King and his bride, who proposed at first to take up their residence at the Prince’s palace, that one which Valoroso occupied when Angelica was born, and before he usurped the throne. [Illustration] So the marriage party drove up to the palace: the dignitaries got out of their carriages and stood aside: poor Rosalba stepped out of her coach, supported by Bulbo, and stood almost fainting up against the railings so as to have a last look of her dear Giglio. As for Blackstick, she, according to her custom, had flown out of the coach window in some inscrutable manner, and was now standing at the palace door. Giglio came up the steps with his horrible bride on his arm, looking as pale as if he was going to execution. He only frowned at the Fairy Blackstick—he was angry with her, and thought she came to insult his misery. “Get out of the way, pray,” says Gruffanuff haughtily. “I wonder why you are always poking your nose into other people’s affairs?” “Are you determined to make this poor young man unhappy?” says Blackstick. “To marry him, yes? What business is it of yours? Pray, madam, don’t say ‘you’ to a Queen,” cried Gruffanuff. “You won’t take the money he offered you?” “No.” “You won’t let him off his bargain, though you know you cheated him when you made him sign the paper?” “Impudence! Policemen, remove this woman!” cries Gruffanuff. And the policemen were rushing forward, but with a wave of her wand the Fairy struck them all like so many statues in their places. “You won’t take anything in exchange for your bond, Mrs. Gruffanuff,” cries the Fairy, with awful severity. “I speak for the last time.” “No!” shrieks Gruffanuff, stamping with her foot. “I’ll have my husband, my husband, my husband!” “You SHALL HAVE YOUR HUSBAND!” the Fairy Blackstick cried; and advancing a step, laid her hand upon the nose of the Knocker. * * * * *