be a dance when he had killed the Firedrake), and then he rushed to the field!
But he never came back any more!
Everyone wept bitterly—everyone but Prince Prigio; for he thought it was a practical joke, and said that Alphonso had taken the opportunity to start off on his travels and see the world.
“There is some dreadful mistake, sir,” said Prigio to the king. “You know as well as I do that the youngest son has always succeeded, up to now. But I entertain great hopes of Enrico!”
And he grinned; for he fancied it was all nonsense, and that there were no Firedrakes.
Enrico was present when Prigio was consoling the king in this unfeeling way.
“Enrico, my boy,” said his majesty, “the task awaits you, and the honour. When you
come back with the horns and tail of the Firedrake, you shall be crown prince; and Prigio shall be made an usher at the Grammar School—it is all he is fit for.”
Enrico was not quite so confident as Alphonso had been. He insisted on making his will; and he wrote a poem about the pleasures and advantages of dying young. This is part of it:
The violet is a blossom sweet,
That droops before the day is done—
Slain by thine overpowering heat,
O Sun!And I, like that sweet purple flower,
May roast, or boil, or broil, or bake,
If burned by thy terrific power,
Firedrake!