Chapter XIX. The Prince with the peasants.

by Mark Twain

　　When the King awoke in the early morning, he found that a wet butthoughtful rat had crept into the place during the night and madea cosy bed for itself in his bosom. Being disturbed now, itscampered away. The boy smiled, and said, "Poor fool, why sofearful? I am as forlorn as thou. 'Twould be a sham in me tohurt the helpless, who am myself so helpless. Moreover, I owe youthanks for a good omen; for when a king has fallen so low that thevery rats do make a bed of him, it surely meaneth that hisfortunes be upon the turn, since it is plain he can no lower go."He got up and stepped out of the stall, and just then he heard thesound of children's voices. The barn door opened and a couple oflittle girls came in. As soon as they saw him their talking andlaughing ceased, and they stopped and stood still, gazing at himwith strong curiosity; they presently began to whisper together,then they approached nearer, and stopped again to gaze andwhisper. By-and-by they gathered courage and began to discuss himaloud. One said--"He hath a comely face."The other added--"And pretty hair.""But is ill clothed enow.""And how starved he looketh."They came still nearer, sidling shyly around and about him,examining him minutely from all points, as if he were some strangenew kind of animal, but warily and watchfully the while, as ifthey half feared he might be a sort of animal that would bite,upon occasion. Finally they halted before him, holding eachother's hands for protection, and took a good satisfying starewith their innocent eyes; then one of them plucked up all hercourage and inquired with honest directness--"Who art thou, boy?""I am the King," was the grave answer.The children gave a little start, and their eyes spread themselveswide open and remained so during a speechless half minute. Thencuriosity broke the silence--"The King? What King?""The King of England."The children looked at each other--then at him--then at each otheragain--wonderingly, perplexedly; then one said--"Didst hear him, Margery?--he said he is the King. Can that betrue?""How can it be else but true, Prissy? Would he say a lie? Forlook you, Prissy, an' it were not true, it would be a lie. Itsurely would be. Now think on't. For all things that be nottrue, be lies--thou canst make nought else out of it."It was a good tight argument, without a leak in it anywhere; andit left Prissy's half-doubts not a leg to stand on. Sheconsidered a moment, then put the King upon his honour with thesimple remark--"If thou art truly the King, then I believe thee.""I am truly the King."This settled the matter. His Majesty's royalty was acceptedwithout further question or discussion, and the two little girlsbegan at once to inquire into how he came to be where he was, andhow he came to be so unroyally clad, and whither he was bound, andall about his affairs. It was a mighty relief to him to pour outhis troubles where they would not be scoffed at or doubted; so hetold his tale with feeling, forgetting even his hunger for thetime; and it was received with the deepest and tenderest sympathyby the gentle little maids. But when he got down to his latestexperiences and they learned how long he had been without food,they cut him short and hurried him away to the farmhouse to find abreakfast for him.The King was cheerful and happy now, and said to himself, "When Iam come to mine own again, I will always honour little children,remembering how that these trusted me and believed in me in mytime of trouble; whilst they that were older, and thoughtthemselves wiser, mocked at me and held me for a liar."The children's mother received the King kindly, and was full ofpity; for his forlorn condition and apparently crazed intellecttouched her womanly heart. She was a widow, and rather poor;consequently she had seen trouble enough to enable her to feel forthe unfortunate. She imagined that the demented boy had wanderedaway from his friends or keepers; so she tried to find out whencehe had come, in order that she might take measures to return him;but all her references to neighbouring towns and villages, and allher inquiries in the same line went for nothing--the boy's face,and his answers, too, showed that the things she was talking ofwere not familiar to him. He spoke earnestly and simply aboutcourt matters, and broke down, more than once, when speaking ofthe late King 'his father'; but whenever the conversation changedto baser topics, he lost interest and became silent.The woman was mightily puzzled; but she did not give up. As sheproceeded with her cooking, she set herself to contriving devicesto surprise the boy into betraying his real secret. She talkedabout cattle--he showed no concern; then about sheep--the sameresult: so her guess that he had been a shepherd boy was anerror; she talked about mills; and about weavers, tinkers, smiths,trades and tradesmen of all sorts; and about Bedlam, and jails,and charitable retreats: but no matter, she was baffled at allpoints. Not altogether, either; for she argued that she hadnarrowed the thing down to domestic service. Yes, she was sureshe was on the right track, now; he must have been a houseservant. So she led up to that. But the result was discouraging.The subject of sweeping appeared to weary him; fire-buildingfailed to stir him; scrubbing and scouring awoke no enthusiasm.The goodwife touched, with a perishing hope, and rather as amatter of form, upon the subject of cooking. To her surprise, andher vast delight, the King's face lighted at once! Ah, she hadhunted him down at last, she thought; and she was right proud,too, of the devious shrewdness and tact which had accomplished it.Her tired tongue got a chance to rest, now; for the King's,inspired by gnawing hunger and the fragrant smells that came fromthe sputtering pots and pans, turned itself loose and delivereditself up to such an eloquent dissertation upon certain toothsomedishes, that within three minutes the woman said to herself, "Of atruth I was right--he hath holpen in a kitchen!" Then hebroadened his bill of fare, and discussed it with suchappreciation and animation, that the goodwife said to herself,"Good lack! how can he know so many dishes, and so fine oneswithal? For these belong only upon the tables of the rich andgreat. Ah, now I see! ragged outcast as he is, he must haveserved in the palace before his reason went astray; yes, he musthave helped in the very kitchen of the King himself! I will testhim."Full of eagerness to prove her sagacity, she told the King to mindthe cooking a moment--hinting that he might manufacture and add adish or two, if he chose; then she went out of the room and gaveher children a sign to follow after. The King muttered--"Another English king had a commission like to this, in a bygonetime--it is nothing against my dignity to undertake an officewhich the great Alfred stooped to assume. But I will try tobetter serve my trust than he; for he let the cakes burn."The intent was good, but the performance was not answerable to it,for this King, like the other one, soon fell into deep thinkingsconcerning his vast affairs, and the same calamity resulted--thecookery got burned. The woman returned in time to save thebreakfast from entire destruction; and she promptly brought theKing out of his dreams with a brisk and cordial tongue-lashing.Then, seeing how troubled he was over his violated trust, shesoftened at once, and was all goodness and gentleness toward him.The boy made a hearty and satisfying meal, and was greatlyrefreshed and gladdened by it. It was a meal which wasdistinguished by this curious feature, that rank was waived onboth sides; yet neither recipient of the favour was aware that ithad been extended. The goodwife had intended to feed this youngtramp with broken victuals in a corner, like any other tramp orlike a dog; but she was so remorseful for the scolding she hadgiven him, that she did what she could to atone for it by allowinghim to sit at the family table and eat with his betters, onostensible terms of equality with them; and the King, on his side,was so remorseful for having broken his trust, after the familyhad been so kind to him, that he forced himself to atone for it byhumbling himself to the family level, instead of requiring thewoman and her children to stand and wait upon him, while heoccupied their table in the solitary state due to his birth anddignity. It does us all good to unbend sometimes. This goodwoman was made happy all the day long by the applauses which shegot out of herself for her magnanimous condescension to a tramp;and the King was just as self-complacent over his gracioushumility toward a humble peasant woman.When breakfast was over, the housewife told the King to wash upthe dishes. This command was a staggerer, for a moment, and theKing came near rebelling; but then he said to himself, "Alfred theGreat watched the cakes; doubtless he would have washed the dishestoo--therefore will I essay it."He made a sufficiently poor job of it; and to his surprise too,for the cleaning of wooden spoons and trenchers had seemed an easything to do. It was a tedious and troublesome piece of work, buthe finished it at last. He was becoming impatient to get away onhis journey now; however, he was not to lose this thrifty dame'ssociety so easily. She furnished him some little odds and ends ofemployment, which he got through with after a fair fashion andwith some credit. Then she set him and the little girls to paringsome winter apples; but he was so awkward at this service that sheretired him from it and gave him a butcher knife to grind.Afterwards she kept him carding wool until he began to think hehad laid the good King Alfred about far enough in the shade forthe present in the matter of showy menial heroisms that would readpicturesquely in story-books and histories, and so he was half-minded to resign. And when, just after the noonday dinner, thegoodwife gave him a basket of kittens to drown, he did resign. Atleast he was just going to resign--for he felt that he must drawthe line somewhere, and it seemed to him that to draw it atkitten-drowning was about the right thing--when there was aninterruption. The interruption was John Canty--with a peddler'spack on his back--and Hugo.The King discovered these rascals approaching the front gatebefore they had had a chance to see him; so he said nothing aboutdrawing the line, but took up his basket of kittens and steppedquietly out the back way, without a word. He left the creaturesin an out-house, and hurried on, into a narrow lane at the rear.