“A wife!” exclaimed the prince; “oh yes, my father’s grey-bearded counsellors will find me some damsel whom it is necessary I should marry for the peace of the kingdom; and to her I shall be tied, and, be she an idiot or a shrew, I shall have no voice in the matter.”
“But do you mean to say,” retorted the Cat, in a more excited voice, “that if you found a nice little princess—I don’t say any one they could with justice object to, but a real princess—who cared very much for you, and made you very happy, very happy indeed, so that you determined to marry her, that you wouldn’t be man enough to say to your father and all his counsellors, ‘Here is the princess I mean to make my wife; I feel Heaven intended her for me. I am sure she will be the joy of my people, as she is mine, and no other shall share my throne’?”
“Wouldn’t I,” exclaimed the prince, with energy, starting to his feet, and placing his hand instinctively on his sword, his eye flashing and the colour mounting in his cheek.
“Ah! if you always looked like that! Now, you are handsome indeed!” exclaimed the Cat, enthusiastically, and purred away. “But,” she added, immediately after, “all this time you haven’t told me what it was you came for.”
“Ah!” said the prince, despondingly, at finding himself thus recalled to the prosaic realities of his melancholy life from that brief dream of happiness. “No; because you have been talking to me of more interesting things” (the Cat purred audibly); and then he told her what it was had really brought him there.
“You see, your mother understands your character better than all the rest,” said the Cat. “She knew you could be trusted to prove your superiority over your brothers, though the others hope you may fail. However, fail you won’t this time, for I can give you a drinking-horn which neither your brothers nor any one else on earth can match!”
With that she sprang lightly on to the soft carpet, and ran out of the room, beckoning to him to follow her. She led him through a long suite of rooms till they came to a large dining-hall all panelled with oak and filled with dark carved-oak furniture. In the centre of one end of this hall, high up in the panelling, was an inlaid safe or tabernacle curiously wrought. Puss gave one of her agile springs on to the top of this cabinet, and, having opened its folding-doors gently with her paw, disclosed to view a drinking-horn such as the prince had never seen. It was a white semi-transparent horn, but close-grained, like ivory, and all finely carved with designs of curious invention; the dresses of the figures were all made of precious stones cunningly let in, and they sparkled with a vivid lustre, like so many lamps. Then it had a rim, stand, and handle of massive gold exquisitely chased, and adorned with rows of pearls and diamonds.
“Kind Lady Purrer,” exclaimed the prince, “you are right, there is no doubt of my success! But how can I ever sufficiently thank you for what you have done for me? for I owe all to you.”
“And a little to your own discernment too,” said the Cat, archly. “And now, always look as much alive and as bright as you do now, and you will see people will think better of you.”
“But when shall I see you again, most sweet counsellor? May I come back and see you again?” pleaded the prince, and he tried to stroke her sleek fur as she rubbed her soft grey head, purring, against his boots. The stroking, however, she would by no means allow, but springing again on to the top of the cabinet, she said,—