<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></SPAN>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2>
<p class="h2">THE PROPHECY.</p>
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<p class="noin"><span style="font-weight:bold">URDIE</span>
sat and watched every motion of
the sleeping king. All the night, to his
ear, the palace lay as quiet as a nursery
of healthful children. At sunrise he
called the princess.</p>
<p>"How has his Majesty slept?" were her first words as
she entered the room.</p>
<p>"Quite quietly," answered Curdie; "that is, since the
doctor was got rid of."</p>
<p>"How did you manage that?" inquired Irene; and
Curdie had to tell all about it.</p>
<p>"How terrible!" she said. "Did it not startle the
king dreadfully?"</p>
<p>"It did rather. I found him getting out of bed, sword
in hand."</p>
<p>"The brave old man!" cried the princess.</p>
<p>"Not so old!" said Curdie, "—as you will soon see.
He went off again in a minute or so; but for a little
while he was restless, and once when he lifted his hand
it came down on the spikes of his crown, and he half
waked."</p>
<p>"But where <i>is</i> the crown?" cried Irene, in sudden
terror.</p>
<p>"I stroked his hands," answered Curdie, "and took
the crown from them; and ever since he has slept
quietly, and again and again smiled in his sleep."</p>
<p>"I have never seen him do that," said the princess.
"But what have you done with the crown, Curdie?"</p>
<p>"Look," said Curdie, moving away from the bedside.</p>
<p>Irene followed him—and there, in the middle of the
floor, she saw a strange sight. Lina lay at full length,
fast asleep, her tail stretched out straight behind her and
her fore-legs before her: between the two paws meeting in
front of it, her nose just touching it behind, glowed and
flashed the crown, like a nest for the humming-birds of
heaven.</p>
<p>Irene gazed, and looked up with a smile.</p>
<p>"But what if the thief were to come, and she not to
wake?" she said. "Shall I try her?" And as she
spoke she stooped towards the crown.</p>
<p>"No, no, no!" cried Curdie, terrified. "She would
frighten you out of your wits. I would do it to show you,
but she would wake your father. You have no conception
with what a roar she would spring at my throat.
But you shall see how lightly she wakes the moment I
speak to her.—Lina!"</p>
<p>She was on her feet the same instant, with her great tail
sticking out straight behind her, just as it had been lying.</p>
<p>"Good dog!" said the princess, and patted her head.
Lina wagged her tail solemnly, like the boom of an
anchored sloop. Irene took the crown, and laid it where
the king would see it when he woke.</p>
<p>"Now, princess," said Curdie, "I must leave you for a
few minutes. You must bolt the door, please, and not
open it to any one."</p>
<p>Away to the cellar he went with Lina, taking care, as
they passed through the servants' hall, to get her a good
breakfast. In about one minute she had eaten what he
gave her, and looked up in his face: it was not more she
wanted, but work. So out of the cellar they went
through the passage, and Curdie into the dungeon, where
he pulled up Lina, opened the door, let her out, and shut
it again behind her. As he reached the door of the
king's chamber, Lina was flying out of the gate of
Gwyntystorm as fast as her mighty legs could carry her.</p>
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<p>"What's come to the wench?" growled the men-servants
one to another, when the chambermaid appeared
among them the next morning. There was something in
her face which they could not understand, and did not
like.</p>
<p>"Are we all dirt?" they said. "What are you thinking
about? Have you seen yourself in the glass this
morning, miss?"</p>
<p>She made no answer.</p>
<p>"Do you want to be treated as you deserve, or will
you speak, you hussy?" said the first woman-cook. "I
would fain know what right <i>you</i> have to put on a face like
that!"</p>
<p>"You won't believe me," said the girl.</p>
<p>"Of course not. What is it?"</p>
<p>"I must tell you, whether you believe me or not," she
said.</p>
<p>"Of course you must."</p>
<p>"It is this, then: if you do not repent of your bad ways,
you are all going to be punished—all turned out of the
palace together."</p>
<p>"A mighty punishment!" said the butler. "A good riddance,
say I, of the trouble of keeping minxes like you in
order! And why, pray, should we be turned out? What
have I to repent of now, your holiness?"</p>
<p>"That you know best yourself," said the girl.</p>
<p>"A pretty piece of insolence! How should <i>I</i> know,
forsooth, what a menial like you has got against me!
There <i>are</i> people in this house—oh! I'm not blind to
their ways! but every one for himself, say I!—Pray, Miss
Judgment, who gave you such an impertinent message to
his majesty's household?"</p>
<p>"One who is come to set things right in the king's
house."</p>
<p>"Right, indeed!" cried the butler; but that moment
the thought came back to him of the roar he had heard in
the cellar, and he turned pale and was silent.</p>
<p>The steward took it up next.</p>
<p>"And pray, pretty prophetess," he said, attempting to
chuck her under the chin, "what have <i>I</i> got to repent
of?"</p>
<p>"That you know best yourself," said the girl. "You
have but to look into your books or your heart."</p>
<p>"Can you tell <i>me</i>, then, what I have to repent of?" said
the groom of the chambers.</p>
<p>"That you know best yourself," said the girl once
more. "The person who told me to tell you said the
servants of this house had to repent of thieving, and lying,
and unkindness, and drinking; and they will be made to
repent of them one way, if they don't do it of themselves
another."</p>
<p>Then arose a great hubbub; for by this time all the
servants in the house were gathered about her, and all
talked together, in towering indignation.</p>
<p>"Thieving, indeed!" cried one. "A pretty word in a
house where everything is left lying about in a shameless
way, tempting poor innocent girls!—a house where nobody
cares for anything, or has the least respect to the value of
property!"</p>
<p>"I suppose you envy me this brooch of mine," said
another. "There was just a half-sheet of note-paper
about it, not a scrap more, in a drawer that's always open
in the writing-table in the study! What sort of a place is
that for a jewel? Can you call it stealing to take a thing
from such a place as that? Nobody cared a straw about
it. It might as well have been in the dust-hole! If it
had been locked up—then, to be sure!"</p>
<p>"Drinking!" said the chief porter, with a husky laugh.
"And who wouldn't drink when he had a chance? Or
who would repent it, except that the drink was gone?
Tell me that, Miss Innocence."</p>
<p>"Lying!" said a great, coarse footman. "I suppose
you mean when I told you yesterday you were a pretty
girl when you didn't pout? Lying, indeed! Tell us
something worth repenting of! Lying is the way of
Gwyntystorm. You should have heard Jabez lying to the
cook last night! He wanted a sweetbread for his pup,
and pretended it was for the princess! Ha! ha! ha!"</p>
<p>"Unkindness! I wonder who's unkind! Going and
listening to any stranger against her fellow-servants, and
then bringing back his wicked words to trouble them!"
said the oldest and worst of the housemaids. "—One of
ourselves, too!—Come, you hypocrite! this is all an
invention of yours and your young man's, to take your
revenge of us because we found you out in a lie last
night. Tell true now:—wasn't it the same that stole the
loaf and the pie that sent you with the impudent
message?"</p>
<p>As she said this, she stepped up to the housemaid and
gave her, instead of time to answer, a box on the ear that
almost threw her down; and whoever could get at her
began to push and hustle and pinch and punch her.</p>
<p>"You invite your fate," she said quietly.</p>
<p>They fell furiously upon her, drove her from the hall
with kicks and blows, hustled her along the passage, and
threw her down the stair to the wine-cellar, then locked
the door at the top of it, and went back to their breakfast.</p>
<p>In the meantime the king and the princess had had
their bread and wine, and the princess, with Curdie's
help, had made the room as tidy as she could—they were
terribly neglected by the servants. And now Curdie set
himself to interest and amuse the king, and prevent
him from thinking too much, in order that he might the
sooner think the better. Presently, at his majesty's request,
he began from the beginning, and told everything
he could recall of his life, about his father and mother
and their cottage on the mountain, of the inside of the
mountain and the work there, about the goblins and his
adventures with them. When he came to finding the
princess and her nurse overtaken by the twilight on the
mountain, Irene took up her share of the tale, and told
all about herself to that point, and then Curdie took it
up again; and so they went on, each fitting in the part
that the other did not know, thus keeping the hoop of
the story running straight; and the king listened with
wondering and delighted ears, astonished to find what he
could so ill comprehend, yet fitting so well together from
the lips of two narrators. At last, with the mission given
him by the wonderful princess and his consequent adventures,
Curdie brought up the whole tale to the present
moment. Then a silence fell, and Irene and Curdie
thought the king was asleep. But he was far from it;
he was thinking about many things. After a long pause
he said:—</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>What he meant they could not quite understand, but
they saw plainly that already he was better.</p>
<p>"Put away my crown," he said. "I am tired of
seeing it, and have no more any fear of its safety."</p>
<p>They put it away together, withdrew from the bedside,
and left him in peace.</p>
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