“Then all the clouds drifted away, and the dark blue sky of the tropic night arched over Torquillon’s Lair, with the throbbing stars looking down; and the most beautiful thing they saw was that wonderful Iceberg—all his rage gone—calm and shining in the tranquil sea.”
The Princess’s voice ceased. There was no sound, only a long-drawn breath through the room, as if great music had just come softly to a close.
She began again in a different voice—talking: “But the Captain knew it never would do to leave him there; for he would melt in the hot sun and be as bad as ever; though he was frozen harder than any ice he ever had seen. So they didn’t wait even for morning, but fastened ropes around him and set off to tow him North. They didn’t mind if it took a month—it was such a good thing to do. They carried him far up toward the North Pole, and left him frozen fast in the ice. And he will never get away!
“Now ships pass freely through the wide channel that was Torquillon’s Lair; and since he has gone the clouds have left too, and the Rock Man has forgotten to frown, and if the Lion roars, it is a roar of welcome. The little winds caper and frisk around the ships until the channel seems the pleasantest spot in the ocean, and they are sorry to leave it.”
The Kitten had her foot already off the edge of the couch, but she stopped, because the Princess leaned forward, with her finger up, to say one more word, and mischief began to dance in her eyes. “And,”—said the Princess, “if any one asks Taffy if he ever saw a Waterspout, his eyes shine and his white teeth, and he says, ‘Sure!’”
Then she opened her arms and the Kitten ran into them.
“I’ll ask him,” she said. “Will he tell me? Will he come soon?” She asked it so quickly, it was all one question, and her arm around the Princess’s neck pulled her head forward where the glow from the burned-down fire was on her face. It grew suddenly like a rose.
“I shouldn’t be one bit surprised if he did,” she answered.
“But, Dearie-Dearest,” said Phyllisy, perched on the arm of the chair and playing with the Princess’s fingers, “I wish you’d just explain this: You said it was so long ago—Taffy and all—nobody can remember when. I thought it was—not exactly ‘Ancient,’ you know, but ‘Once upon a time’?”
“That is perfectly true,” said the Princess, soberly. “But you know—”