“Dear Molly,” said the prince, who liked her, “how have I been so unfortunate as to offend you?”
“My name, sir, is Lady Molinda,” she said, very proudly; “and you have sent your own brother to his grave!”
“Oh, excuse me,” said the prince, “I am certain he has merely gone off on his travels. He’ll come back when he’s tired: there are no Firedrakes; a French writer says they are ‘purement fabuleux, purely fabulous, you know.”
“Prince Alphonso has gone on his travels, and will come back when he is tired! And was he then—tired—of me?” cried poor Molinda, bursting into tears, and forgetting her dignity.
“Oh! I beg your pardon, I never noticed; I’m sure I am very sorry,” cried the prince, who, never having been in love himself, never thought of other people. And he tried to take Molinda’s hand, but she snatched it from him and ran away through the garden to the palace, leaving Prince Prigio to feel foolish, for once, and ashamed.
As for Lady Kathleena, she swept past him like a queen, without a word. So the prince, for all his cleverness, was not happy.
After several days had gone by, the king returned from the solitary place where he had been speaking his mind. He now felt calmer and better; and so at last he came back to the palace. But on seeing Prince Prigio, who was lolling in a hammock, translating Egyptian hieroglyphs into French poetry for his mother, the king broke out afresh, and made use of the most cruel and impolite expressions.
At last, he gave orders that all the Court should pack up and move to a distant city; and that Prince Prigio should be left alone in the palace by himself. For he was quite unendurable, the king said, and he could not trust his own temper when he thought of him. And he grew so fierce, that even the queen was afraid of him now.