Children's stories; Fairy tales; Fantasy literature
'Now at last, MY children, I am compelled to believe many things I
could not and do not yet understand--things I used to hear, and
sometimes see, as often as I visited my mother's home. Once, for
instance, I heard my mother say to her father--speaking of me--"He is a
good, honest boy, but he will be an old man before he understands"; and
my grandfather answered, "Keep up your heart, child: my mother will
look after him." I thought often of their words, and the many strange
things besides I both heard and saw in that house; but by degrees,
because I could not understand them, I gave up thinking of them. And
indeed I had almost forgotten them, when you, my child, talking that
day about the Queen Irene and her pigeons, and what you had seen in her
garret, brought them all back to my mind in a vague mass. But now they
keep coming back to me, one by one, every one for itself; and I shall
just hold my peace, and lie here quite still, and think about them all
till I get well again.'
What he meant they could not quite understand, but they saw plainly
that already he was better.
'Put away my crown,' he said. 'I am tired of seeing it, and have no
more any fear of its safety.' They put it away together, withdrew from
the bedside, and left him in peace.
CHAPTER 25
The Avengers
There was nothing now to be dreaded from Dr Kelman, but it made Curdie
anxious, as the evening drew near, to think that not a soul belonging
to the court had been to visit the king, or ask how he did, that day.
He feared, in some shape or other, a more determined assault. He had
provided himself a place in the room, to which he might retreat upon
approach, and whence he could watch; but not once had he had to betake
himself to it.
Towards night the king fell asleep. Curdie thought more and more
uneasily of the moment when he must again leave them for a little
while. Deeper and deeper fell the shadows. No one came to light the
lamp. The princess drew her chair close to Curdie: she would rather it
were not so dark, she said. She was afraid of something--she could not
tell what; nor could she give any reason for her fear but that all was
so dreadfully still.
When it had been dark about an hour, Curdie thought Lina might have
returned; and reflected that the sooner he went the less danger was
there of any assault while he was away. There was more risk of his own
presence being discovered, no doubt, but things were now drawing to a
crisis, and it must be run. So, telling the princess to lock all the
doors of the bedchamber, and let no one in, he took his mattock, and
with here a run, and there a halt under cover, gained the door at the
head of the cellar stair in safety. To his surprise he found it
locked, and the key was gone. There was no time for deliberation. He
felt where the lock was, and dealt it a tremendous blow with his
mattock. It needed but a second to dash the door open. Someone laid a
hand on his arm.
'Who is it?' said Curdie.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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