“How dare you call me self-willed? And what business is it of yours if I am ever so self-willed? I wish I had never seen your face. You have done nothing but make mischief ever since you came here.”
“I never made mischief,” replied Witikind indignantly, “and it is very unjust of you to say such a thing. You would not have dared to say it to one who was your equal. But it is no use talking with you. If I am what you charge me with being, I am no fit companion for you; if I am not, you are no fit companion for me. So at no rate will I stay here any longer.” And he immediately proceeded towards the door.
“Oh, you won’t, won’t you?” cried his enraged companion; “then take this with you!” And, suiting his actions to his words, the Prince seized a heavy silver inkstand, which stood upon the table, and threw it at Witikind. Had it reached him, it might have hurt him very seriously; but Eigenwillig was in too great a passion to take a deliberate aim, and the consequence was, that the missile, instead of hitting Witikind, struck the centre of a large looking-glass, which it broke to shivers.
The crash of the falling fragments was heard by Queen Ninnilinda, and she immediately entered the apartment, to see what was the matter. The first object which met her eyes was Witikind, who ran against her in his hurry to escape from the Prince.
“Ah,” said she, laying hold of him, “you need not attempt to run away. I knew I should find you out sooner or later, and now I have caught you. How dared you to break that looking-glass, and spill the ink all over the carpet, you little, good-for-nothing varlet?”
“Please your Majesty, I did not break it.”
“Not break it!” exclaimed the Queen, who was much too angry to observe that her own son was likewise in the room. “Not break it? Are you not ashamed to utter such falsehoods?” And with that the Queen struck the little boy two or three sharp blows.
“Oh, Mamma, Mamma,” cried Prince Eigenwillig, rushing forward, and seizing her uplifted arm, “it was not his doing; it was mine. I don’t like him, and I wish he had never come here; but he didn’t break the looking-glass. I broke it; do not beat him; he doesn’t deserve it. I did the mischief. He put me in such a rage with what he said, that I took up the inkstand and threw it at him; but it struck the glass instead of him.”
The Prince was a spoilt child, and full of faults; but here was an evidence that there were redeeming points in his character. Nothing could have been better than the manner in which he came forward to take the blame on his own shoulders. There was still something to work upon; and had his mother been anything but what she was, the incident might have been turned as much to his advantage as to her own. But her weakness and vanity were excessive. She saw she had been too hasty; but was unwilling to confess herself in the wrong; so she availed herself of an expression of her son, and continued to pour out her wrath on the unfortunate Witikind.
“How dared you offend the Prince?” she cried. “How could you presume to misbehave yourself in such a manner, as to put him in a rage, as he says you did? And what is the meaning of all these malicious tales you have been carrying to the King?”