X

IN WHICH WE SEE THAT IT IS WRONG TO JUDGE ACCORDING
TO APPEARANCES, AND THAT TONTO WAS NOT TONTO

The king entered his tent to rest a moment, when the sight of Rachimburg reminded him of Tonto.

"Is the page dead?" he asked.

"No, sire," answered Rachimburg; "unfortunately for him, he is still living; he is hopeless. I ordered him carried to his aunt's, the Countess de Castro's, close by here."

"Is he the countess's nephew?" said the king. "I was never told of it."

"Your Majesty has forgotten it," replied Rachimburg, quietly. "The poor child is fatally wounded in the shoulder; he cannot recover. It would give him great happiness could he see Your Majesty before he dies."

"Very well," returned the king; "lead me to him."

On his arrival at the castle Charming was met by the countess, who conducted him to a darkened room. The page was stretched, pale and bleeding, on a couch; nevertheless, he had strength to raise his head and welcome the king.

"What a miracle!" exclaimed Charming. "This is the strangest wound that I ever saw in my life: one side of Tonto's mustache is gone!"

"Sire," said the countess, "the blade of the sword probably swept off one side. Nothing is so capricious as sword wounds, as every one knows."

"How strange!" cried the king. "On one side it is Tonto, my page, my insolent subject, and on the other it is—no, I am not mistaken—it is you, my good angel and my savior; it is you, my poor Pazza!"

He fell on his knees and seized her hand, which lay on the coverlet.

"Sire," said Pazza, "my days are numbered, but before dying—"

"No, no, Pazza, you shall not die," cried the king, in tears.

"Before dying," she added, casting down her eyes, "I hope that Your Majesty will forgive me the box on the ear which I gave you this morning in indiscreet zeal—"

"Enough," said the king; "I forgive you. After all, a throne and honor were well worth—what I received."

"Alas!" said Pazza, "that is not all."

"What!" exclaimed Charming, "is there anything more?"

"Oh, sire, what have you done?" cried the countess; "my child is dying!"

"My Pazza, you must not die!" exclaimed the king. "Speak, and be sure that I forgive in advance all you have done. Alas! it is I that have need of forgiveness."

"Sire, the little doctor who took the liberty of boxing Your Majesty's ears—"

"Was it you that sent him?" asked Charming, with a frown.

"No, sire, I myself was he. Ah, what would I not have done to save my king! It was I who, to save Your Majesty from the traitorous knaves that surrounded you, took the liberty of boxing your ears—"

"Enough," said Charming; "I forgive you, though the lesson was a harsh one."

"Alas! this is not all," said Pazza.

"What, more?" cried the king, rising.

"Oh, aunt, I am dying!" exclaimed Pazza. By dint of care, however, she was restored to life; and, turning her languishing eyes toward the king, "Sire," said she, "the gipsy girl at the masked ball, who dared to box your ears—"

"Was yourself, Pazza?" said charming. "Oh, I forgive you for that; I well deserved it. How could I doubt you, who are sincerity itself! But, now I think of it, do you remember the rash vow that you made on the night of our marriage? You have kept your promise; it is for me to keep mine. Pazza, make haste to recover, and return to the castle from which happiness fled with you."

"I have a last favor to ask of Your Majesty," said Pazza. "Rachimburg was the witness this morning of a scene for which I blush, and of which all must remain ignorant. I commend this faithful servant to your goodness."

"Rachimburg," said the king, "take this purse, and keep the secret under penalty of your head."

"That makes the fourth," whispered Rachimburg to himself; "my fortune is made."

In a few moments Pazza was asleep. "Do you think that she will recover?" asked Charming, anxiously, of the countess.

"Bah!" said the old lady. "No matter how ill a woman may be, happiness will bring her back from the brink of the grave. Kiss the queen, my nephew; it will do her more good than all the doctors in the world."

Charming stooped and kissed the sleeping Pazza. An angelic smile stole over her features, at the sight of which he wept like a child.