In considerably less time than it takes to pen these lines, the Princess had decided to trust her fortunes to the pluck and gallantry of her young champion. But in the midst of their plans they were unexpectedly confronted by their deadly enemy—Dusk—armed to the teeth.
CHAPTER IV.
THE RING-DOVE.
Fairyland can produce nothing so wonderful as the facility with which sundry mortals can extend their faces. To smile widely is the fashion with us nowadays, and it is very wonderful indeed to note the various methods of its accomplishment. If the human face be a mask (and who shall say it is not?) then what maskers promenade our streets with their masks set smiling—as one would set a [[35]]watch or a clock! Bowing and smirking is the latest humbug, and even the mere soulless puppets, born of men’s brains, must smack of it, else they are voted untrue to life and nature.
There was a set smile on the ugly face of Dusk, the dwarf, as he bowed to Silverhaze and our hero; but the sprite had not been educated in a mortal school. He lacked polish. Malignity shone in his eyes and in every corner of his wicked mouth.
“Don’t move, I pray,” he said slowly; “my slaves are entirely at your service. Why don’t you summon them to do your bidding? Ho, ho, ho!” And his mocking laugh rang through the vaulted passages like a bugle-call.
Poor Silverhaze began to tremble, and clung to the Nugget for support, while the youth in his turn tried his utmost to calm her fears.
The dwarf eyed them with a sinister look. “Very charming for my fay,” he ejaculated, rubbing his bony hands together. “Very loving and tender, oh, my doves. What tender morsels you’ll make for mince-pies! My cook, Pancake Parecheese, will be delighted with you. He, he, hi!” He turned about as he spoke, and clapped his hands together as a signal. Almost immediately the room became filled with armed monsters. [[36]]
“Ha!” cried Dusk in mocking sarcasm. “You break into my house, kill my servants, and rob me of my coveted prize. Slaves, take this man away and boil him down.”