King Gâ-roo was greatly incensed when, upon Bulger’s recognition of the would-be murderer in the presence of the whole Court, the miserable wretch made a clean breast of it, and related how he had arranged the knives with his own hands.
“Out of my sight, thou unworthy servant! If I do not command that thy vile heart and viler head be parted by the executioner’s axe, it is because thy father rendered mine priceless services. Go! Come not again until I summon thee!”
King Gâ-roo now took me into special favor.
In the first place, he was delighted to see how successful my efforts had been to amuse the princess Hoppâ-Hoppâ, on whose baby cheeks the roses glowed once more, and whose child-voice rang out again as of old, like a flute note or a tiny silver bell.
His majesty ordered that the Court painter should forthwith make a portrait of Bulger for the royal gallery, and that a plaster cast of my head should be taken for the royal museum.
I was much pleased with all this attention.
But I noticed that the very moment I hinted at the necessity of my speedy return home, King Gâ-roo skillfully turned the conversation to some other subject. The fact of the matter was, he feared to have me leave the palace lest his beloved Hoppâ-Hoppâ should miss my daily performances and fall back again into her melancholy.
The little princess herself was not slow in exerting her power over me. Snapping the ground with her feet, like a rabbit, when I failed to be quite as entertaining as usual, and even going so far as to threaten me with a dose of that living coil of steel-spring, called Megâ-Zaltô, when I refused to cross my legs and uncross them quickly enough to please her ladyship.
One day, being in a sort of brown study, over my position, and revolving in my mind several different ways of making my escape from King Gâ-roo’s dominions, I unwittingly paid little attention to Hoppâ-Hoppâ’s commands. In vain she stormed, snapping the ground with her little feet, shaking her baby hands at me, piping out in shrill and angry tones at my negligence.
I didn’t quicken my pace one jot. A heavy load of thoughts oppressed my mind.