“How?” said Padna.
“They were driving in an open carriage along the lonely roads at the dead of night,” said Micus, “and no finer carriage was ever seen, with its two wheels behind and its two wheels before, and a special seat for the driver, and cushions fit for a duke to sit on, and the Arms of the Four Provinces painted on the doors, and—”
“Where were they driving to?” said Padna.
“They were driving at breakneck speed to the little thatched chapel on the Hill of Meath, with its marble altar, red-tiled floor, painted Stations of the Cross, and beautiful silver candlesticks, for the Bishop was in the devil of a hurry to marry Queen Maeve to the Crown Prince of Spain, and Matty Morrissey was to play the music for the dancers after the wedding. But, lo and behold! as the carriage rattled along the dark, winding roads, the holy Bishop, Matty, and the driver fell fast asleep, and the horse fell asleep also, but he was a somnambulist and kept galloping away the same as if he was wide-awake, and when he came to the lake, he plunged into its silent waters, carrying with him the occupants of the carriage, and they all sank to its icy depths the same as if they were made of lead, and they were never heard of from that fatal hour to this blessed day.”
“And why didn’t some one try to recover their bodies and give them a public funeral and christian burial?” said Padna.
“What would be the use? Sure there is no bottom at all to the Lake of Lisnavarna. And you might as well be looking for a Christmas box from the Devil himself as to be looking for any one who gets drowned there,” said Micus.
“That’s a sad story,” said Padna. “But ’tis better to be drowned inself than roasted to death in a forest fire, or worse still, talked to death by your mother-in-law or some of your friends.”
“Talk is a deadly instrument of torture,” said Micus.
“’Tis indeed,” said Padna, “and sometimes as bad as silence, but tell me how the disaster affected Queen Maeve and the Crown Prince.”
“Poor Queen Maeve wept so much that she lost her beauty, and the Crown Prince married a farmer’s daughter who had a dowry of three stockingsful of sovereigns, thirty-three acres of loamy soil, three cows, and three clucking hens,” said Micus.