And what of the traveling-cloak?
What sort of cloak was it, and what A good did it do the Prince?
Stay, and I'll tell you all about it.
Outside it was the commonest-looking bundle imaginable--shabby and small; and the instant Prince Dolor touched it, it grew smaller still, dwindling down till he could put it in his trousers pocket, like a handkerchief rolled up into a ball. He did this at once, for fear his nurse should see it, and kept it there all day--all night, too. Till after his next morning's lessons he had no opportunity of examining his treasure.
When he did, it seemed no treasure at all; but a mere piece of cloth--circular in form, dark green in color--that is, if it had any color at all, being so worn and shabby, though not dirty. It had a split cut to the center, forming a round hole for the neck--and that was all its shape; the shape, in fact, of those cloaks which in South America are called ponchos--very simple, but most graceful and convenient.
Prince Dolor had never seen anything like it.
In spite of his disappointment, he examined it curiously; spread it out on the door, then arranged it on his shoulders. It felt very warm and comfortable; but it was so exceedingly shabby--the only shabby thing that the Prince had ever seen in his life.
"And what use will it be to me?" said he sadly. "I have no need of outdoor clothes, as Inever go out. Why was this given me, I wonder? and what in the world am I to do with it? She must be a rather funny person, this dear godmother of mine."Nevertheless, because she was his godmother, and had given him the cloak, he folded it carefully and put it away, poor and shabby as it was, hiding it in a safe corner of his top cupboard, which his nurse never meddled with. He did not want her to find it, or to laugh at it or at his godmother--as he felt sure she would, if she knew all.
There it lay, and by and by he forgot all about it; nay, I am sorry to say that, being but a child, and not seeing her again, he almost forgot his sweet old godmother, or thought of her only as he did of the angels or fairies that he read of in his books, and of her visit as if it had been a mere dream of the night.
There were times, certainly, when he recalled her: of early mornings, like that morning when she appeared beside him, and late evenings, when the gray twilight reminded him of the color of her hair and her pretty soft garments;above all, when, waking in the middle of the night, with the stars peering in at his window, or the moonlight shining across his little bed, he would not have been surprised to see her standing beside it, looking at him with those beautiful tender eyes, which seemed to have a pleasantness and comfort in them different from anything he had ever known.
But she never came, and gradually she slipped out of his memory--only a boy's memory, after all; until something happened which made him remember her, and want her as he had never wanted anything before.
Prince Dolor fell ill. He caught--his nurse could not tell how--a complaint common to the people of Nomansland, called the doldrums, as unpleasant as measles or any other of our complaints; and it made him restless, cross, and disagreeable. Even when a little better, he was too weak to enjoy anything, but lay all day long on his sofa, fidgeting his nurse extremely--while, in her intense terror lest he might die, she fidgeted him still more. At last, seeing he really was getting well, she left him to himself--which he was most glad of, in spite of his dullness and dreariness. There he lay, alone, quite alone.
Now and then an irritable fit came over him, in which he longed to get up and do something, or to go somewhere--would have liked to imitate his white kitten--jump down from the tower and run away, taking the chance of whatever might happen.
Only one thing, alas! was likely to happen; for the kitten, he remembered, had four active legs, while he----"I wonder what my godmother meant when she looked at my legs and sighed so bitterly? Iwonder why I can't walk straight and steady like my nurse only I wouldn't like to have her great, noisy, clumping shoes. Still it would be very nice to move about quickly--perhaps to fly, like a bird, like that string of birds I saw the other day skimming across the sky, one after the other."These were the passage-birds--the only living creatures that ever crossed the lonely plain; and he had been much interested in them, wonder-ing whence they came and whither they were going.
"How nice it must be to be a bird! If legs are no good, why cannot one have wings? People have wings when they die--perhaps; I wish Iwere dead, that I do. I am so tired, so tired;and nobody cares for me. Nobody ever did care for me, except perhaps my godmother. Godmother, dear, have you quite forsaken me?"He stretched himself wearily, gathered himself up, and dropped his head upon his hands;as he did so, he felt somebody kiss him at the back of his neck, and, turning, found that he was resting, not on the sofa pillows, but on a warm shoulder--that of the little old woman clothed in gray.
How glad he was to see her! How he looked into her kind eyes and felt her hands, to see if she were all real and alive! then put both his arms round her neck, and kissed her as if he would never have done kissing.
"Stop, stop!" cried she, pretending to be smothered. "I see you have not forgotten my teachings. Kissing is a good thing--in moderation.
Only just let me have breath to speak one word.""A dozen!" he said.
"Well, then, tell me all that has happened to you since I saw you--or, rather, since you saw me, which is quite a different thing.""Nothing has happened--nothing ever does happen to me," answered the Prince dolefully.
"And are you very dull, my boy?"
"So dull that I was just thinking whether I could not jump down to the bottom of the tower, like my white kitten.""Don't do that, not being a white kitten."
