The King made him a long speech, terse and pithy, as royal speeches usually are. The Prince, who listened with all attention, tried to yawn without opening his mouth.
"Yawn like a man!" said the King; "I don't mind it, do you?" said he to the prime minister, who had written the speech.
"I'm used to it," said the premier.
"Well! do you persist in your intention?" asked the King at the end of the speech.
"I do!" quoth the Prince.
"Then I'll light you up to my daughter's door."
Having reached the landing of the second floor, the King shook hands with the Prince and his followers; he wished them good-night; still, he lingered for a while on the threshold.
Mathias was dazzled with the superhuman beauty of the royal maiden, who was quite a garden in herself, for she was as lithe as a lily, as graceful as a waving bough, with a complexion like jasmines and roses, eyes like forget-me-nots, a mouth like a cherry, breasts like pomegranates, and as sweet a breath as mignonette.
She could not hide the admiration she felt for Mathias, and congratulated him especially on never having written a book.
When the old King heard that Mathias was not an author, he was so sorely troubled that he took up his candle and went off to bed.