'Pooh! Nonsense! The woman's mad!' exclaims the King.And all the courtiers exhibited by their countenances and expressions, marks of surprise, or ridicule, or incredulity, or wonder.
'I should like to know who else is going to be married, if I am not?' shrieks out Gruffanuff.'I should like to know if King Giglio is a gentleman, and if there is such a thing as justice in Paflagonia? Lord Chancellor! my Lord Archbishop! will your Lordships sit by and see a poor, fond, confiding, tender creature put upon? Has not Prince Giglio promised to marry his Barbara? Is not this Giglio's signature? Does not this paper declare that he is mine, and only mine?' And she handed to his Grace the Archbishop the document which the Prince signed that evening when she wore the magic ring, and Giglio drank so much champagne.And the old Archbishop, taking out his eyeglasses, read-- "'This is to give notice, that I, Giglio, only son of Savio, King of Paflagonia, hereby promise to marry the charming Barbara Griselda, Countess Gruffanuff, and widow of the late Jenkins Gruffanuff, Esq."'H'm,' says the Archbishop, 'the document is certainly a--a document.'
'Phoo!' says the Lord Chancellor, 'the signature is not in His Majesty's handwriting.' Indeed, since his studies at Bosforo, Giglio had made an immense improvement in caligraphy.
'Is it your handwriting, Giglio?' cries the Fairy Blackstick, with an awful severity of countenance.
'Y--y--y--es,' poor Giglio gasps out, 'I had quite forgotten the confounded paper: she can't mean to hold me by it.You old wretch, what will you take to let me off? Help the Queen, some one--Her Majesty has fainted.'
'Chop her head off!'} exclaim the impetuous 'Smother the old witch!' } Hedzoff, the ardent Smith, and 'Pitch her into the river!'} the faithful Jones.
But Gruffanuff flung her arms round the Archbishop's neck, and bellowed out, 'Justice, justice, my Lord Chancellor!' so loudly, that her piercing shrieks caused everybody to pause.
As for Rosalba, she was borne away lifeless by her ladies; and you may imagine the look of agony which Giglio cast towards that lovely being, as his hope, his joy, his darling, his all in all, was thus removed, and in her place the horrid old Gruffanuff rushed up to his side, and once more shrieked out, 'Justice, justice!'
'Won't you take that sum of money which Glumboso hid?' says Giglio; 'two hundred and eighteen thousand millions, or thereabouts.It's a handsome sum.'
'I will have that and you too!' says Gruffanuff.
'Let us throw the crown jewels into the bargain,' gasps out Giglio.
'I will wear them by my Giglio's side!' says Gruffanuff.
'Will half, three-quarters, five-sixths, nineteen-twentieths, of my kingdom do, Countess?' asks the trembling monarch.
'What were all Europe to me without YOU, my Giglio?' cries Gruff, kissing his hand.
'I won't, I can't, I shan't,--I'll resign the crown first,'
shouts Giglio, tearing away his hand; but Gruff clung to it.
'I have a competency, my love,' she says, 'and with thee and a cottage thy Barbara will be happy.'
Giglio was half mad with rage by this time.'I will not marry her,' says he.'Oh, Fairy, Fairy, give me counsel?' And as he spoke he looked wildly round at the severe face of the Fairy Blackstick.
"'Why is Fairy Blackstick always advising me, and warning me to keep my word? Does she suppose that I am not a man of honour?"' said the Fairy, quoting Giglio's own haughty words.
He quailed under the brightness of her eyes; he felt that there was no escape for him from that awful inquisition.
'Well, Archbishop,' said he in a dreadful voice, that made his Grace start, 'since this Fairy has led me to the height of happiness but to dash me down into the depths of despair, since I am to lose Rosalba, let me at least keep my honour.Get up, Countess, and let us be married; I can keep my word, but I can die afterwards.'
'Oh, dear Giglio,' cries Gruffanuff, skipping up, 'I knew, Iknew I could trust thee--I knew that my Prince was the soul of honour.Jump into your carriages, ladies and gentlemen, and let us go to church at once; and as for dying, dear Giglio, no, no:--thou wilt forget that insignificant little chambermaid of a Queen--thou wilt live to be consoled by thy Barbara! She wishes to be a Queen, and not a Queen Dowager, my gracious Lord!' And hanging upon poor Giglio's arm, and leering and grinning in his face in the most disgusting manner, this old wretch tripped off in her white satin shoes, and jumped into the very carriage which had been got ready to convey Giglio and Rosalba to church.The cannons roared again, the bells pealed triple-bobmajors, the people came out flinging flowers upon the path of the royal bride and bridegroom, and Gruff looked out of the gilt coach window and bowed and grinned to them.Phoo! the horrid old wretch!
