"Well, well," he said, "have it your own way, my queenly girl; he shall not be thrown into the adder-pit if you have the slightest objection. Gentlemen," he continued, turning to his council, "what say you to the honey torture, and giving the wasps and bees and flies a treat?"
"Very good, your Majesty;" "Just the proper punishment for his crime," and similar observations, again proceeded from the crowd of sycophants.
But at this instant Concaterina jumped up and performed precisely the same feat as that of her sister. Throwing herself upon her knees, she clasped those of her father, and begged him not to subject poor Zac to such a dreadful fate.
"All right," said the king, to whom nothing was so disagreeable as to see his daughters cry, which Concaterina was beginning to do, and that copiously. "He shall not die thus, if you don't wish it, my beauty; but what in the name of all that is wonderful do you want me to do with the fellow, if I am not to execute him according to the regular punishments of the country?"
Now both the princesses had begun to be sorry for Zac; for on calmer reflection they had come to the conclusion that it was rather hard that he should die so young, and die, too, for keeping his faith which he had plighted to a lady. True, he was a horrid fool for not preferring one of them; but then fidelity was a virtue, and a rare one, and he punished himself by preferring a plain—not to say ugly—wife to a beauty. They would have been quite content to have given him a little more taste of dungeon life, and then let him off, and all this talk about killing him did not at all chime in with their ideas. Still, they had raised the storm, and, as other people in a similar position have often discovered, knew not how to allay it. If they recommended Zac's pardon, they feared that their father would begin to doubt whether he had really committed any offence at all. So they hung their heads and said nothing, whilst Zac turned upon them a grateful look for having saved him from two such unpleasant alternatives as those which had been suggested.
After the king had pondered a minute, he struck violently at Lord Pompous' toe with his sceptre, and gave vent to his usual exclamation when excited by a sudden idea—"I've hit it!" which, fortunately for the lord chamberlain, was in this instance untrue.
"The prisoner," continued the king, "shall choose his own death and the place of his execution. Thus shall we blend mercy with justice, and maintain our royal reputation for both."
On hearing these gracious words, the courtiers naturally turned their eyes up to the heavens in admiration of such a display of elevated feeling; and Lord Pompous looked wiser than ever, though he instinctively edged a little further off from his august sovereign.
The latter now turned to Zac and demanded of him what death he would choose to die, and where it should take place; calling upon him, at the same time, to take notice of the clemency with which he was treated.
Although this did not strike Zac very forcibly, he was exceedingly glad that matters had fallen out in this way, especially since his treacherous memory had already completely forgotten the magic word, which might otherwise have been his only chance of escape. He therefore lost no time in answering the king's question.