THE STORY OF THE BLACK PRINCE
“Know, most excellent Solario,” he began, “that my father the King of Wen called me to him one day, and sitting down with me addressed me as follows. ‘My son,’ said he—”
“Is it a long story?” asked the King, yawning behind his hand.
“It is very interesting,” said the old tailor.
“Not what I asked,” said the King. “Is it long?”
“Well,—well—” said the old man.
“Then we will hear it another time,” said the King. “Pray let us hear what happened to you.”
The old man bowed, quite crestfallen, and proceeded with his story.
“Oh, shucks,” said Bojohn to Bodkin.
When the Black Prince had concluded his own tale, he paused, and then said to me:
“Now, Solario, as to those circumstances of my misfortune which precede the tale I have just told you, I will, if you consent, call on my good friend here, who was personally concerned in them, to relate them to you.”
Whereupon he nodded to my companion, who at once commenced
THE STORY OF THE COURTEOUS STRANGER
“You must know,” he began, “that soon after my arrival at the city of—”
“What has this got to do with your being enchanted by the witch?” said the King.
“Well,” said Solario, “its bearing on what afterward happened to me is perhaps a little indirect, but I assure your majesty that—”
“No, no,” said the King. “I never sit up late, and it’s getting on toward my bedtime.”
The old man sighed.
When the Courteous Stranger had finished his story, the Black Prince gazed at me for a moment.
“Solario,” said he, “I will tell you the conclusion of the whole matter in a word. To him who shall deliver me from this spell, I will give five hundred thousand pieces of gold, of the money of your country. And, Solario,” he said, bending toward me and pointing at me with his finger, “I believe you are the man.”
Visions of Solario the tailor as the richest man in Vernicroft flashed before my eyes, and left me dizzy.
“It is a matter of sewing on a button,” said the Prince. “I am allowed nine tailors for the trial, on the principle that nine tailors are the equivalent of one—ahem! I beg your pardon. Eight tailors have already essayed it, and failed. You are the ninth.”
“And what has become of the other eight?” I asked, with some misgiving.
The Black Prince smiled. “You have already seen them,” said he.
“I?” I exclaimed in amazement.
Eight Tailors Who Could not Sew on a Single Button
“Four of them served our table here to-night, and the other four you have met between your shop and this room.”
“The eight black servants?” I cried.
“Precisely,” said the Prince. “I must tell you, that he who fails comes himself under the spell, his skin changes to black, and he remains here with me in my retirement. If you deliver me, you deliver also these other eight. If you fail, you condemn yourself and all of us to everlasting misery. You are our final hope. What do you say?”
I was becoming almost lightheaded with the prospect of my reward. Perhaps the wine had something to do with it; perhaps it was the Prince’s daughter, who smiled upon me bewitchingly.
“You have already seen my doublet,” said the Prince. “So long as it remained intact, no harm could touch me. But my enemy, as I have related to you, succeeded in detaching from it a single button, and taking away the thread. Instantly all its virtue was gone; I was helpless. To this mischance I owe all my misery; my happiness hangs on a button. Take the doublet, Solario, and find the thread which will withstand sorcery. Three months are allowed you. Here are the doublet and the button; guard them as you would your life; and may you return to receive my thanks and the fortune which awaits you.”
With his left hand he placed the doublet and the button in my left hand. The perfume of the wine seemed to grow heavier; I was very drowsy; I tried to speak; I could not arouse myself; I was conscious of the eager smile of the Prince’s daughter, and I knew no more.
When I came to myself, I was in my bed behind the shop, and it was morning. My first thought was that I had had an unusual dream, but there on the pillow beside me lay the identical doublet and button, and I found myself wearing the spangled coat of the evening before. I jumped up and prepared my breakfast, but I could not eat. A desperate case I had gotten myself into, indeed! Where on earth should I obtain a thread which would withstand sorcery? And if I should fail—! I pushed aside my food and buried my face in my hands.
I heard the bell over my shop door tinkle, as if some customer were coming in. I paid no attention. Why had I allowed this hopeless enterprise to be thrust upon me? I was lost.
The Tailor Is Visited by a Hideous Old Woman
I heard a cackle of unpleasant laughter. I looked up quickly and saw, sitting at the opposite side of my table, a little old woman, extremely hideous of face, hook-nosed, toothless, and wrinkled, munching her gums and watching me with little, malicious eyes.
The ancient hag did not leave me long in doubt about her business.
“Master tailor,” said she, “the fortune is yours if you will have it.”
Her voice was like nothing so much as the crackling of dry wood in a brisk fire.
“Never mind what I know nor how I know it,” she went on, answering my thought before I spoke. “What would you give to know where and how to obtain the thread which will hold the button?”
“Anything!” I cried. “That is, almost anything.”
“Would you marry?”
I thought of the adorable young lady whom I had seen the night before.
“Willingly!” I said. “That is,—yes, I think—”
“Then I will tell you the condition on which you may have the thread. You must marry me.”
I looked at the frightful old creature; then I laughed and laughed; I could not help it. She arose in a great fury, grasped the crooked stick which she bore with her, and hobbled toward the door.
“You shall never find it!” she said. “No, never! You shall be a black and penniless outcast! You shall wish you had never been born! You are lost, lost, lost!”
That terrible prospect sobered me. If this woman could by any chance save me from such a fate, what price would be too great?
“Come back,” I said, “I will think it over.”
“Speak!” said she. “Will you, or will you not?”
I looked at her. She was very old. She could not live long, at best. She might not live until the wedding day. And if she should, a man of my wealth and power could afterward find the means of mitigating the horrors of such a marriage.
“How do I know you can perform your promise?” I asked.
“You need not perform yours until I have performed mine. Come, master tailor, will you or will you not?”
“I will,” said I. “On the day when I receive my fortune from the Prince, I will marry you. Merciful powers!”
“Good,” said she. “Now listen to me. The thread which will hold the button is the single black hair in the tail of the white unicorn, Alb, who feeds in the half-moon pasture of Korbi, by the river Tarn. Listen carefully while I tell you what you must do.”
She then gave me the most minute directions; and when she had finished, she arose and hobbled to the door.
“Stop!” I said. “Tell me who you are, and where you live, and when I shall see you again.”
She answered never a word; she was gone.
The Jolly Mule Driver and His Sing-Song
I wrote down all I could remember of her instructions, and went out into the street to cool my burning head. As I stood before the door, I heard a jingling of little bells, and a voice singing and shouting, and saw, coming toward me down the street, a train of five or six mules, driven by a short fellow in a leather jerkin, on foot, who was singing raucously and shouting lustily to his animals. His face was gay and humorous, and he cracked his whip merrily.
“Good mules for hire!” he sang. “Good mules for hire! We’ll bring you to your heart’s desire! We laugh at rain and snow and mire! We never lag and never tire! We thread our way through ice and fire! Good mules for hire! Good mules for hire!”
“Thread!” What did he mean by that word? I stared at him, and as he was passing me he looked at me long and hard, and gave me a slow wink.
A little while later, as I was ironing a piece of goods within doors, the mule driver himself appeared in the shop.
“At your service, master Solario!” he cried, gayly. “For a long journey or a short one! If you’re thinking of going a journey, I’m your man! Come, master Solario, the sun is shining, lock up the shop!”
It seemed a curious piece of good fortune that this fellow should have appeared almost on the heels of the old woman herself, and the long and short of it was that I hired him for my journey, at so much per week. He agreed to provide the necessary outfit, and we would depart that night.
My preparations were soon made. The notes I had made of the old woman’s directions I sewed inside my vest. I placed in my strong box the doublet and the button, and bestowed the box where it could not be found during my absence. At midnight, my driver appeared. It was a starry night. I locked the shop, and we mounted our mules. Preceded by four other animals, packed with our outfit, we quietly moved down the street, past the last houses, and into the forest. My search for the white unicorn had begun.
Adventures in Search of Alb the Unicorn
From that night until we came in sight of the river Tarn, far beyond the confines of the Forest Kingdom, the adventures we encountered were numerous and fearful. We spent weeks on this perilous journey. In the second week we came to a dark castle on the side of a mountain. We crossed the drawbridge, which strangely happened to be down, though it was late at night, and blew the horn which hung by the gate. But perhaps it will be unnecessary to detail these adventures?
“Totally unnecessary,” said the King. “I can scarcely restrain my impatience to know how the story ends.”
There are several, however, of extraordinary interest, which you might perhaps be pleased to hear: the adventure of the Roving Griffin, the adventure of the Blind Giant, the adventure of Montesango’s Cave—
“Yes, yes,” said Bojohn and Bodkin, in a loud whisper.
“No,” said the King. “I must beg you to reserve these pleasures for another occasion. I can’t sit up all night.”
We reached at last, on a sunshiny morning, the top of a little hill, from which we looked down on a narrow and shallow river, curved at this point outward in a crescent, and beyond it we saw a meadow of some two miles in depth, bounded at the rear by a high cliff, curved also outward like a crescent, and reaching the river at the right hand and the left of the meadow. The meadow thus enclosed resembled in shape a half-moon.
“Ah!” I cried. “The river Tarn and the half-moon pasture of Korbi!”
I left my mule driver, and descended alone to the river. I found a ford, and though the water reached my shoulders, I had no difficulty in wading to the other side. I came there upon the pasture I had seen from the hill. It was green with tall grass, and sprinkled with flowers. I looked about fearfully, but the unicorn was not in sight. Creeping cautiously, I made toward the high cliff at the further side of the meadow. Just before I reached it, I stopped to consult my notes:
“A circle of white stones on the side of the cliff, higher than a man’s reach. In the center of the circle, a blood-red flower growing on a long stem.”
Solario Encounters Alb the Unicorn
I walked along at the foot of the cliff, and after some ten minutes descried above me the circle of white stones. The wall was perfectly upright, but its surface was rugged enough to give promise of a foothold. I turned my head, and at that instant saw, a short distance away, farther down the line of the cliff, standing knee-deep in the grass and flowers, a small horse, pure white, with a pure white mane and tail, and a sharp-pointed horn in the middle of his forehead.
The unicorn stamped and gave a piercing neigh
As he saw me, he stamped his hoof and threw his head high. I started for the cliff; he made for the same point, as if to intercept me. I knew that against that sharp horn I should be helpless; it was now a matter of life and death. I ran with all my might; the unicorn came on at a gallop; we approached the foot of the cliff together; his head was down, and I could already in imagination feel his horn in my side; I doubled my exertions; I reached the cliff, and leaped up on the rocks just out of his reach, as he swept by me; I was safe.
I clung to my perch panting, and then painfully climbed to the circle of white stones. There, in its center, was the blood-red flower. The unicorn was standing below, watching me. When he saw me bend toward the flower, he stamped, shook his mane, and gave a long piercing neigh, as a horse will when he is in pain. I plucked the flower at the root. The unicorn’s excitement was extraordinary. He pranced and bounded, shrieking in a manner almost human. I shivered at the thought of going down to him, but it had to be done. I descended carefully, holding the flower out in the unicorn’s view. His shrieks subsided into a moaning cry. He shook his head up and down, as if under some strong command. I reached the ground.
I paused there for a moment, for I confess I was desperately afraid. Little by little I advanced to him, holding out the flower. He pranced and whined. I came within arm’s length of his head, and held the flower before his mouth. With a quiver which shook his whole body, he seized it in his teeth. I quickly ran to his tail, and searched there for the single black hair, keeping well away from his heels. Covered by the brush of white hair I found it. I seized it and gave it a mighty jerk. Out it came into my hand.
The unicorn trembled and tottered; and there in his place before my eyes stood a handsome young man, clad in a suit of soft and exquisite white leather. He fell on his knees before me and kissed my hand.
“Thanks, brave deliverer!” he cried. “The enchantment is broken! I am myself again! How glorious to be free!”
I raised him from the ground, and led him to a convenient place, where we sat down and conversed. I placed the precious black hair securely in the lining of my vest. If I on my part was overjoyed, the young man was positively beside himself. He laughed and cried by turns. I was of course intensely curious as to the circumstances of his enchantment. He willingly consented to relate them to me, and as soon as he had composed himself a little he began
THE STORY OF THE WHITE UNICORN
“I was born,” said the young man, “in the Island Kingdom, far out in the Great Sea, the only son of a rich—”
“Never mind, never mind,” interrupted the King; “not now, some other time. It’s my bedtime. Get on with your own story. We’ve no time now to listen to—”
“My dear,” said the Queen, sweetly, “perhaps if you’d—”
“Some other time,” said the King. “Not now, not now.”
“Oh, botheration,” said Bojohn to Bodkin. “He won’t let us hear anything.”
“I think it’s too bad,” said Bodkin to Bojohn.
The old man in the spangled coat sighed profoundly.
When the young man had finished his tale, the day was far advanced. I wished to take him back with me to Vernicroft, but he was anxious to return to the Island Kingdom without losing a moment; we crossed the river together, and parted. I have never seen him since.
We made good speed homeward; all our difficulties seemed to have vanished. At first, I was saddened by the thought of my approaching marriage to the hideous and hateful old hag; but a new thought began to take possession of me, and grew stronger as we rode along from day to day, and my heart soon became lighter. Master as I was of such a key to power as lay secure within my vest, I could marry whom I chose. Why should I marry the ugliest creature I had ever seen, when the most beautiful might be mine for the asking? The more I thought of it, the more indignant I became at the manner in which my easy good nature had been imposed on at every hand; I had been grossly overreached; the bargain was beyond measure unconscionable; the exquisite face of the Prince’s daughter haunted me day and night— And in short, when we arrived at Vernicroft, my mind was made up; I would not marry the old woman, and I would exact from the Prince a reward far more suitable than the one he had promised.
It was just on the stroke of midnight when we reached my shop. I left my driver on the sill, and procuring the necessary gold within, paid him off and dismissed him. He was a merry fellow, and had served me well, though I must say that I had never learned to like his way of cooking beans. He bade me a gay farewell, and as I turned back into the shop I looked over my shoulder, expecting to see him with his mules on his way down the street. To my astonishment, there was positively nothing in sight; the street was empty; in that moment the driver and his animals had vanished.
I entered the shop. The journey had cost me all the savings of my lifetime. But what did it matter? I was about to become rich beyond all my dreams. I lit my lamp and looked about me. There, beside my tailor’s bench, sat the old woman herself. Her hands rested on the head of her crooked stick, and her toothless jaws were working.
“Well,” she said, “you have it?”
“Yes,” said I, “I have it.”
“Good,” said she. “The Prince’s friend has been here many times. He will come to-morrow. I will return to claim you afterward. Good.”
She rose, leaned on her stick, and nodding her head and grinning to herself hobbled out of the shop. My resolution to save myself from this outrageous creature became absolutely fixed.
The Button Is Sewed on with the Unicorn’s Hair
I drew out the black hair of the unicorn’s tail, and gave myself up to the pleasant task of sewing on the button. It was soon done, and it was well done. Nothing could be more secure. I placed the doublet under my pillow and went to bed.
In the morning I arose with a light heart. In order that the doublet might be near me, I put it on; and during the day three accidents proved its quality. First, a hot iron with which I was pressing my spangled coat slipped from my right hand and came down squarely on my left, and I felt no pain whatever. Next, a needle pricked my finger, and I was aware of no inconvenience. And last, as I was standing in the doorway, some wicked boys, with whom I was never a favorite, hurled a stone at me, striking me violently on the temple; but its effect was no more than that of a soft cushion. Undoubtedly the unicorn’s hair was the authentic thread.
At nightfall, after I had put up my shutters, I stored the doublet secretly away, and was making ready to go to bed, when a knock sounded at the door, and I admitted the Prince’s friend, smiling and gracious as before. He looked inquiringly at me. I bowed and smiled.
“Yes,” I said, “the work is done.”
“The thread?” he cried.
“I have it, never fear! The work is done.”
He was in a state of great excitement.
“Come!” he cried. “The carriage is at the door. Bring it with you. Hurry!”
In a moment I was in his carriage, with a bundle under my arm. We stopped at the same place as before, and reached by the same route the room where I had first seen the Prince and his daughter. They arose in agitation as I came in, and at a joyful signal from my companion came forward and grasped my hands. Truly the lady was more beautiful than I had dreamed.
“You have succeeded?” said the Prince.
“I have!” said I. “Your deliverance is assured!” And I described the accidents from which the doublet had protected me that day.
“Let us sit down,” said the Prince; and when we were all seated, with fruit and wine before us, he begged me to tell my story.
I told as much as I thought fit, omitting any mention of the old woman. The Prince desired to see the doublet. With my left hand I placed in his left the package I had brought with me. He opened it and held up the contents. Alas, it was not the doublet at all, but some indifferent garment intended for another client!
He looked at me in amazement. I was covered with confusion, and begged him to overlook my carelessness. He listened coldly.
“You will bring the doublet here to-morrow,” he said sternly.
“That is understood,” I said. “Meanwhile,” I went on, fortifying myself with another glass of the perfumed wine, “we may as well discuss the question of my reward.”
“That,” said the Prince, “is already settled.”
“The case is altered,” I said. “If I had known what lay before me, I could have made more fitting terms; but I was in the dark; the dangers and exertions of my existence since then have changed the case completely. I am sure that you do not wish to deal with me unjustly. Think what my service means to you! In your place, I should think nothing too precious for my deliverer.”
A dark frown came over the Prince’s face.
“What is it you demand?” said he.
The Prince Receives the Tailor’s Terms
“I demand nothing,” said I. “But if you wish to have the doublet and be restored to yourself, your country, and your people, I shall ask only three things: one million pieces of gold, this house, and your daughter’s hand in marriage.”
All three jumped to their feet. I sat calmly. At a look from the Prince, his daughter and the Courteous Stranger sat down again. They were both very pale.
“These are your terms?” said the Prince. “You are resolved on this?”
“Inflexibly,” I said.
“Then we must consider,” said he. “When you bring the doublet to-morrow you shall have my answer. For the present, let us dismiss the subject.”
His command of himself was superb. He began to talk lightly on indifferent subjects, and as he talked his voice became gradually more distant, and I grew drowsy; I knew I was falling asleep. I remember nothing more until I awoke the next morning in my own bed.
To my surprise, the old woman did not appear at all on that day. On the whole, the time passed pleasantly. I had no doubt the Prince would accept my terms. I reveled in the happiness which was so soon to be mine.
At night, dressed in my spangled coat, and with a bundle under my arm, I sat in the shop waiting for my stranger. I was too wise to take with me the true doublet, and you may be sure the bundle contained a substitute. It would be time enough to deliver the magic garment at the wedding. It reposed meanwhile under lock and key, concealed beyond the possibility of discovery.
It was late when the stranger appeared. He conducted me to the Prince and his daughter in chilly silence. The Prince was standing, and his daughter sat on the divan, her chin in her hand.
“You have brought the doublet?” said the Prince.
“First,” I said, “do you accept the terms?”
“I must see the doublet,” he said.
With my left hand I placed the bundle in his left hand. He opened it. When he saw its contents, he turned on me with a face like a thunder cloud.
“What!” said I. “Another accident? Well, it’s of no consequence. The doublet is safe, perfectly safe. It will be placed in your hands—at the wedding. Do you consent?”
The Magic Doublet Is Suddenly Produced
He clapped his hands. A door opened behind the divan, and—I could scarcely believe my eyes—in hobbled, with her crooked stick, the old woman whom I had pledged myself to marry. I was speechless with astonishment. The Prince clapped his hands again. From other doors entered the eight black tailors whom I had seen before. The ancient hag approached the Prince, and drew forth from her dress the doublet which I had left securely locked and hidden at home! I saw it closely; it could be no other. With her left hand she laid it in the left hand of the Prince.
In an instant he had put it on. When he had buttoned the last button, a startling change came over him and the eight black tailors. All their faces grew a mottled blue, then red, and then the natural color of healthy white skin.
At the same time the room began to contract. The ceiling came slowly down and stopped just above my head. The walls came slowly together, and as they reached the Prince, his daughter, the Courteous Stranger, and the eight tailors, gave way to them, so that all these persons passed from view on the outer side, and I was left alone with the hideous old woman, with the walls coming in upon us by degrees until I thought we should be crushed.
I became dizzy; I sank in terror upon the chair which stood beside me. The walls came on from all four sides until the place wherein I sat was no bigger than a cupboard, and there they stopped. I breathed a sigh of relief, and attempted to rise. To my horror, I could not move.
The old woman pointed a skinny finger at me and gave a loud and angry laugh which sent a chill up and down my spine. She moved her finger about in strange figures. She mumbled to herself a torrent of meaningless words; and passing through the door which remained before me in one wall of my cabinet, she left me, and closed the door behind her. The closet began to rock; it seemed to rise, and in a moment I knew that it was flying with me through space....
Thus, your majesty (said the old man in the spangled coat), I came to be imprisoned in my cell beneath the Forest Pool. There I sat, unable to move or speak, for nearly a hundred years, until the happy day when I was delivered by the excellent Prince, your grandson; and for the refuge which has been accorded me in your majesty’s castle I now tender to your majesty my grateful thanks, and—
“Eh? What? Did you say something?” exclaimed the King, waking up from a sound slumber, and rubbing his eyes. “Oh, yes. I see. Very interesting. Very interesting. Something about a button, wasn’t it? Bless my soul, I’d no idea it was so late. It’s long past my bedtime. I’m always late for breakfast when I stay up past my— Mortimer, will you see to it that the castle windows are locked for the night? My dear, I think we will have bacon and eggs in the morning; and if it’s at all possible, I’d like to have a piece of toast that isn’t burnt. The audience is now over.”
THE SECOND NIGHT
ALB THE UNICORN
SOLARIO the Tailor was sitting at the open window of his room in the northeast tower of the castle, looking out at the stars which glittered in a clear sky over the Great Forest. He sighed, and rising wearily lit the candles on his table; and at that moment there came a knock on his door, and Bojohn and Bodkin entered, rather timidly.
“If you please, sir—” said Bojohn.
“Pray be seated,” said Solario, and they all sat down. “It’s a warm evening,” said he.
“We thought,” said Bojohn, “that you might perhaps be willing to tell us one of the stories that you—”
“It’s very warm this evening, indeed,” said Solario. “Quite oppressive.”
“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” said Bodkin, “we’d like you to tell us about—”
“I don’t know when I’ve felt the heat so much,” said the old tailor. “But then it’s the idleness. If there were only something to do, there wouldn’t be so much time to think about the weather.”
“Last night, sir,” said Bojohn, “you were obliged to leave out some parts of your story, and we thought—”
“If I only had a few good ells of cloth on my table, and a man like—well, say like Mortimer the Executioner,—to exercise my art on, I’d be the happiest man alive; but as it is, sitting here with nothing to do—”
“There was one tale you mentioned,” said Bojohn, “about a—”
“It’s a very fine thing to be a Knight of the Silver Lamp,” said Solario, “but there doesn’t seem to be much connected with it in the nature of work. If I could only be employed in making a suit of clothes for Mortimer the Executioner! There’s a subject! The biggest man I’ve ever seen in my life, and the hardest to fit! That would be an undertaking worthy of my genius. Dear, dear!”
“I’ll speak to grandfather about it,” said Bojohn. “I’m sure he’ll let you make a suit for Mortimer. But what we would like to know is—”
“We’d like to hear one of the stories,” began Bodkin again, “that the King made you leave out last night when—”
“It made no difference to me, I assure you,” said Solario, stiffly. “None whatever.”
“But if you would only tell us—” said Bodkin.
“I do not wish to annoy any one with my dull tales,” said Solario. “Far from it; far from it indeed, I assure you.”
“But there was one” said Bojohn, “about a griffin; what kind of a griffin did you say it was?”
“I believe, if I remember correctly, it was a Roving Griffin; but his majesty your grandfather—”
“Oh, never mind grandfather,” said Bojohn. “Tell us about the—”
“I’d rather hear the one about the giant,” said Bodkin.
“You probably have reference to the Blind Giant,” said Solario. “But—”
“Then there was one,” said Bojohn, “about some cave or other.”
“The Cave of Montesango,” said Solario. “I remember it only too well. But I couldn’t tell you that; it would be too terrible. You wouldn’t be able to sleep in your beds to-night.”
“Then tell us that one!” cried the two boys, together.
“No,” said Solario. “The King would never approve if I—”
“Grandfather isn’t here now,” said Bojohn. “Please—”
“Perhaps,” said Solario, “I might tell you the story concerning the— But I fear it would bore you.”
“No! no!” cried the boys.
“Then I might perhaps tell you the story of Alb the Unicorn, only—”
“Yes! yes! Tell us about the unicorn!”
“You are sure it will not weary you?”
“Not a bit!” said Bojohn.
“Would you mind, sir,” said Bodkin, “leaving out the big words?”
“I shall willingly endeavor to gratify your reasonable predilection for lucidity,” said Solario.
“Sir?” said Bodkin.
“Never mind,” said Bojohn. “Let him go on.”
“Ahem!” said the old man, clearing his throat. “I will give you as much of it as I can remember, as it was told me by the young man in the white leather suit while we were sitting in the half-moon pasture of Korbi by the river Tarn, after I had delivered him from his enchantment. You are sure it will not weary you?”
“Go on! Go on!”
“Then I will begin,” said Solario, settling himself back at his ease, and folding his hands across his stomach,