But when they looked at the ruby-studded chronometer, it was nearly three-quarters of an hour. But then, of course, the well was enchanted!
‘Magic? Nonsense,’ said the old man when they hung about him with thanks and pretty words. ‘It’s only a diving-bell. My own invention.’
* * * * *
So they went home and were married, and the Princess did not wear a veil at the wedding. She said she had had enough veils to last her time.
* * * * *
And a year and a day after that a little daughter was born to them.
‘Now sweetheart,’ said King Bellamant—he was king now because the old king and queen had retired from the business, and were keeping pigs and hens in the country as they [p182 had always planned to do—‘dear sweetheart and life’s love, I am going to ring the bells with my own hands, to show how glad I am for you, and for the child, and for our good life together.’
So he went out. It was very dark, because the baby princess had chosen to be born at midnight.
The King went out to the belfry, that stood in the great, bare, quiet, moonlit square, and he opened the door. The furry-pussy bell-ropes, like huge caterpillars, hung on the first loft. The King began to climb the curly-wurly stone stair. And as he went up he heard a noise, the strangest noises, stamping and rustling and deep breathings.
He stood still in the ringers’ loft where the pussy-furry caterpillary bell-robes hung, and from the belfry above he heard the noise of strong fighting, and mixed with it the sound of voices angry and desperate, but with a noble note that thrilled the soul of the hearer like the sound of the trumpet in battle. And the voices cried: