Алан Милн - Once on a Time

Belvane made room for him on the seat next to her.

"This is where I sit when I write my poetry," she said. "I don't know if your Royal Highness is fond of poetry?"

"Extremely," said Udo. "I have never actually written any or indeed read much, but I have a great admiration for those who—er—admire it. But it was not to talk about poetry that I came out here, Countess."

"No?" said Belvane. "But your Royal Highness must have read the works of Sacharino, the famous bard of Araby?"

"Sacharino, of course. 'Blood for something, something―He who something―' I mean, it's a delightful little thing. Everybody knows it. But it was to talk about something very different that I―"

quoted Belvane softly. "It is perhaps Sacharino's most perfect gem."

"That's it," cried Udo excitedly. "I knew I knew it, if only I could―" He broke off suddenly, remembering the circumstances in which he had wanted it. He coughed importantly and explained for the third time that he had not come to talk to her about poetry.

"But of course I think his most noble poem of all," went on Belvane, apparently misunderstanding him, "is the ode to your Royal Highness upon your coming–of–age. Let me see, how does it begin?

"These Court Poets," said Udo, with an air of unconcern, "flatter one, of course."

If he expected a compliment he was disappointed.

"There I cannot judge," said Belvane, "until I know your Royal Highness better." She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes. "Is your Royal Highness very—dashing?"

"I—er—well—er—one—that is to say." He waded on uncomfortably, feeling less dashing every moment. He should have realised at once that it was an impossible question to answer.

"Your Royal Highness," said Belvane modestly, "must not be too dashing with us poor Euralians."

For the fourth time Udo explained that he had come there to speak to her severely, and that Belvane seemed to have mistaken his purpose.

"Oh, forgive me, Prince Udo," she begged. "I quite thought that you had come out to commune soul to soul with a fellow–lover of the beautiful."

"N—no," said Udo; "not exactly."

"Then what is it?" she cried, clasping her hands eagerly together. "I know it will be something exciting."

Udo stood up. He felt that he could be more severe a little farther off. He moved a few yards away, and then turned round towards her, resting his elbow on the sundial.

"Countess," he began sternly, "ten days ago, as I was starting on my journey hither, I was suddenly―"

"Just a moment," said Belvane, whispering eagerly to herself rather than to him, and she jumped up with a cushion from the seat where she was sitting, and ran across and arranged it under his elbow. "He would have been so uncomfortable," she murmured, and she hurried back to her seat again and sat down and gazed at him, with her elbows on her knees and her chin resting on her hands. "Now go on telling me," she said breathlessly.

Udo opened his mouth with the obvious intention of obeying her, but no words came. He seemed to have lost the thread of his argument. He felt a perfect fool, stuck up there with his elbow on a cushion, just as if he were addressing a public meeting. He looked at his elbow as if he expected to find a glass of water there ready, and Belvane divined his look and made a movement as if she were about to get it for him. It would be just like her. He flung the cushion from him ("Oh, mind my roses," cried Belvane) and came down angrily to her. Belvane looked at him with wide, innocent eyes.

"You—you—oh, don't look like that!"

"Like that?" said Belvane, looking like it again.

"Don't do it," shouted Udo, and he turned and kicked the cushion down the flagged path. "Stop it."

Belvane stopped it.

"Do you know," she said, "I'm rather frightened of you when you're angry with me."

"I am angry. Very, very angry. Excessively annoyed."

"I thought you were," she sighed.

"And you know very well why."

She nodded her head at him.

"It's my dreadful temper," she said. "I do such thoughtless things when I lose my temper."

She sighed again and looked meekly at the ground.

"Er, well, you shouldn't," said Udo weakly.

"It was the slight to my sex that made me so angry. I couldn't bear to think that we women couldn't rule ourselves for such a short time, and that a man had to be called in to help us." She looked up at him shyly. "Of course I didn't know then what the man was going to be like. But now that I know―"

Suddenly she held her arms out to him beseechingly.

"Stay with us, Prince Udo, and help us! Men are so wise, so brave, so—so generous. They know nothing of the little petty feelings of revenge that women indulge."

"Really, Countess, we—er—you—er― Of course there is a good deal in what you say, and I—er―"

"Won't you sit down again, Prince Udo?"

Udo sat down next to her.

"And now," said Belvane, "let's talk it over comfortably as friends should."

"Of course," began Udo, "I quite see your point. You hadn't seen me; you didn't know anything about me; to you I might have been just any man."

"I knew a little about you when you came here. Beneath the—er—outward mask I saw how brave and dignified you were. But even if I could have got you back into your proper form again, I think I should have been afraid to; because I didn't know then how generous, how forgiving you were."

It seemed to be quite decided that Udo was forgiving her. When a very beautiful woman thanks you humbly for something you have not yet given her, there is only one thing for a gentleman to do. Udo patted her hand reassuringly.

"Oh, thank you, your Royal Highness." She gave herself a little shake and jumped up. "And now shall I show you my beautiful garden?"

"A garden with you in it, dear Countess, is always beautiful," he said gallantly. And it was not bad, I think, for a man who had been living on watercress and bran–mash only the day before.

They wandered round the garden together. Udo was now quite certain it was going to be a nice day.

It was an hour later when he came into the library. Hyacinth greeted him eagerly.

"Well?" she said.

Udo nodded his head wisely.

"I have spoken to her about her conduct to me," he said. "There will be no more trouble in that direction, I fancy. She explained her conduct to me very fully, and I have decided to overlook it this time."

"But her robberies, her plots, her conspiracy against me! "

Udo looked blankly at her for a moment and then pulled himself together.

"I am speaking to her about that this afternoon," he said.

King Merriwig sat in his tent, his head held well back, his eyes gazing upwards. His rubicund cheeks were for the moment a snowy white. A hind of the name of Carlo had him firmly by the nose. Yet King Merriwig neither struggled nor protested; he was, in fact, being shaved.

The Court Barber was in his usual conversational mood. He released his Majesty's nose for a moment, and, as he turned to sharpen his razor, remarked,

"Terrible war, this."

"Terrible," agreed the King.

"Don't seem no end to it, like."

"Well, well," said Merriwig, "we shall see."

The barber got to work again.

"Do you know what I should do to the King of Barodia if I had him here?"