A few days after this conversation there was a melancholy procession down the village street. The Court Chaplain and the schoolmaster walked first; the boy was crying bitterly. Then followed all the children of the school, all weeping, and many peasant women, and two or three old men. The Rector stood in a corner of the churchyard under a great walnut tree and looked on. He did not weep. The Court Chaplain looked ashamed, for all the people took this misfortune to be of his causing.
When they had gone some way out of the village the children stopped, and, collecting into a little crowd, they wept more than ever. The Chaplain turned round and waved his hand, but the little schoolmaster was too troubled to take any farewell. He covered his face with his hands and went on, weeping bitterly. At last they passed away out of sight.
When they had gone on some distance, the boy became calmer; he took his hands from his face, and looked up at the Chaplain through his tears.
"What am I to do when I come to the Prince, your Reverence?" he said.
"Thou must make a bow as best thou canst," said the other; "thou must not speak till the Prince speaks to thee, and thou must say 'Highness' sometimes, but not too often."
"How am I to tell when to say 'Highness' and when to forbear?" said the boy.
"Ah! that I cannot tell thee. Thou must trust in God; He will show thee when to say 'Highness' and when not."
They went forward in this way across the meadows, and through the scattered forest for two leagues or more, in the mid-day heat. The boy was not used to labour, and he grew very tired and unhappy. It seemed to him that he was leaving behind all that was fair and true and beautiful, and going to that which was false and garish and unkind. At last they came to an open drive, or avenue of the forest, where great oaks were growing. Some distance up the avenue they saw a high park pale stretching away on either hand, and in the centre of the drive were iron gates covered with gilt scrolls and letters. The Court Chaplain pushed the gates open, and they went in.
Inside, the forest drive was planted with young trees in triple rows. After walking for some distance they reached another gate, similar to the first, but provided with "loges," or guardrooms, on either side. One or two soldiers were standing listlessly about, but they took no heed. Here the drive entered the palace gardens, laid out in grass plots and stone terraces, and crossed by lofty hedges which shut out the view. They approached the long façade of a house with pointed roofs and green shutter blinds to all the windows. Here the Chaplain left the path, and conducted his companion to a remote side entrance; and, after passing through many passages and small rooms, at last left him to the tender mercies of the court tailor and some domestics, at whose hands the little schoolmaster suffered what appeared to him to be unspeakable indignities. He was washed from head to foot, his hair was cut, curled, and frizzled, and he was finally arrayed in a plain suit of black silk, with silk stockings, and delicate shoes with silver buckles, and plain linen bands like a clergyman. The worn homespun suit that had become dear to him was ruthlessly thrown upon a dust-heap, and a message was sent to Herr Chaplain that his protégé was now fit to be presented to the Prince.
The boy could scarcely restrain his tears; he felt as though he were wandering through the paths of a miserable dream. Ah! could he only awake and find himself again in the old schoolhouse, narrating the adventures of the Fair Melusina to the attentive little ones.