The poor little Prince had become sadly changed. The face that had been so fresh and smiling was deeply lined, and bore the marks of sorrow and suffering; the once clear, rosy complexion had grown dull and sallow; his limbs looked too long and thin for his size, and his back was bent a little, as if with the weight of his trouble. Since he had found that all his actions, and even his words, brought abuse or derision upon him he remained silent, scarcely daring to answer the simplest question with “yes” or “no.” He was like a deaf-mute, and at last his mind began to be confused. He scarcely seemed to remember his past life or realize his present situation. Now that he no longer afforded Simon any excuse for beating him, that foul wretch found himself compelled to devise other means of venting his brutality and hastening the end of his victim.
Yet the Dauphin was not entirely destitute of friends and sympathizers. One of the turnkeys, named Gourlet, and Meunier, a servant in the Temple, ventured upon the dangerous attempt to provide him with a little diversion. The child had expressed a desire for some birds, and Meunier immediately exerted himself to obtain some canaries. He went to several families whose devotion to the royal house was known to him, and, on his stating his purpose, they hastened to place their birds at his disposal. He returned to the Temple with ten or twelve canaries, all of which were well tamed and trained. Their gay chirping and flutterings brought life and cheerfulness into the gloomy prison, and, full of delight, the little Prince caught them one after another, and kissed them. There was one of the winged band he noticed particularly. It was tamer and more affectionate than all the rest, and would come flying to him at the softest call, to perch on his outstretched finger, seeming to enjoy the caresses he bestowed on it. For this bird, the little Prince soon conceived an especial affection; he spent much time with it, fed it millet seed from his hand or his mouth, and, in order to be able to distinguish it more readily from the others, he fastened a little red ribbon on one of its feet. Whenever he called, the tiny creature would come to him instantly, alight first on his head, then hop to his shoulder, and finally settle itself upon his finger.
These playmates made the poor little prisoner very happy; but it was too pleasant, too sweet, to last long. On the nineteenth of December a visit of inspection was made, and when the officers entered, the Prince’s yellow favorite was trilling its clear, shrill notes in a burst of song.
“What is the meaning of this?” cried one of the deputies, roughly. “The bird there is wearing a red ribbon like an order! That savors too much of aristocracy, and signifies a distinction that no good republican should tolerate.”
With these words he seized the poor little songster, tore the ribbon from its foot, and hurled it against the wall. Happily, the bird used its wings, and saved itself from being killed; it fell to the floor indeed, but soon started up again and mingled with its companions, uttering soft, plaintive notes.
The little Prince, horror-stricken, could not take his eyes from his feathered friend. He had not been able to repress a cry at the cruel act, but did not dare to show any concern or sympathy, for fear of making matters worse. Poor child! as a result of this unlucky visit, all the birds that had afforded him so much innocent pleasure were ruthlessly taken away from him. It had been indeed too pleasant to last! Simon’s fear that he might be blamed for allowing the creatures in the prison increased his resentment against the Dauphin, and he nursed his wrath until he could find an outlet for it. The opportunity soon came.
The next day he happened to take a foot-bath, and, as it was very agreeable to him to be waited on by a King’s son, he ordered the boy to warm the linen for drying his feet. Trembling with fear of his brutal jailer, the poor child obeyed with more haste than dexterity, and in his agitation dropped a towel into the fire. The cobbler’s feet were in the water, and, foaming with rage at his inability to reach the child, he hurled the most frightful imprecations at him. After a few moments, the Dauphin, thinking his master’s fury had passed, knelt down to dry Simon’s feet, and the monster profited by this opportunity to give him a kick that sent him half across the room and stretched him on the floor. As if stunned by the shock, the poor child lay there motionless; but, not content with this, the cobbler beat and kicked him, overwhelming him at the same time with the vilest epithets until his breath gave out. Then, seeing that his victim was still conscious and able to move, he ordered him to stand up; and the poor little Prince was obliged to rise and drag himself into a corner, where he was suffered to remain, weeping piteously.
The Cobbler and his little victim
The jailer grew more vindictive every day, his passions more malignant; and his temper was not improved when his wife became so dangerously ill that the services of a physician were required. A surgeon named Nautin, a worthy, respectable man, was called in, prescribed a remedy, and promised to come again the next day. As he was leaving, he passed through the room where Simon sat with his charge and some of the municipal officers. The boy had refused to sing a licentious song as Simon had ordered, and, just as the surgeon entered, the cobbler flung himself upon the child, lifted him up by the hair and shook him, shouting furiously: