“No; his brothers understand that best, at all events. I like a man who can drink his glass.”
“And I like one who doesn’t drink it, whether he can or not; but keeps his head clear for his business,” said the good wife who had defended him before.
And as there were a good many who were too fond of the bottle in the crowd, the laugh raised at him was turned against them.
He had one defender, then, in all that mass of people, but all the rest judged him incapable, and without trial! He was too disheartened, to make his way into the great hall where the success of his brothers was being proclaimed, but instead trod sadly and secretly up to his mother’s chamber.
The queen was too distressed at the absence of her favourite son to take part in the jocular scene below, and was seated, full of anxiety, at her window, watching.
“What do you here, my son?” she exclaimed, when he entered; “you have but one short half-hour more, and the time will be expired. The sun is already gone down, and the time once past, whatever you have brought, it will avail you not! Haste, my son, to the council-hall!”
“It is useless, mother; all are against me!” cried the prince; and he laid the beautiful flagon on the table, and sank upon a chair.
In the mean time it had grown dark, but the queen, impelled by her curiosity to know what success her son had had, pulled off the wrapper that enclosed the drinking-horn, and instantly the apartment was brilliantly lighted by the light of the precious stones with which it was studded!
“My son, this is a priceless work! This is worth a kingdom! Nothing your brothers can have brought can compare with this—haste, then, my son!” and she led him along.
It was dark in the council-hall too; but when the queen had dragged her son up to the throne where the king sat, she uncovered the flagon, and the sparkling stones sent their radiance into every part.