  The countess was right (women are always right—past sixty). A fortnight of happiness set Pazza on her feet again, and enabled her to make a triumphant entry into the city with the king, her husband. Her paleness, and her wounded arm, which she carried in a sling, added to her grace and beauty. Charming had eyes for no one but the queen, and the people's looks followed the king's. They were more than an hour in reaching the castle. The magistrates had erected not less than three triumphal arches, frowning fortresses, defended each by thirty-six deputations and thirty-six speeches. The first arch, made of trellis-work, and adorned with leaves and flowers, bore the inscription, TO THE MOST TENDER AND FAITHFUL OF HUSBANDS This was intrusted to the keeping of five or six thousand young girls, dressed in white, with pink ribbons, representing the spring of the year, the hope of the future, welcoming Glory and Beauty. The second arch, more solidly built, was a frame covered On the pedestal of the statue was written, TO THE FATHER OF HIS PEOPLE, A host of priests, statesmen, and magistrates, in robes of all colors, represented Religion, Wisdom, and Virtue; at least so said these venerable and discreet personages, who are never in error. Last came an immense arch, a true military trophy, bearing as its motto, TO THE BOLDEST AND MOST VALIANT OF KINGS Here the army awaited its general, and the queen was saluted by the majestic voice of a hundred cannon and two hundred drums—a voice before which all human eloquence falters, and which always has the last word. I spare you a description of the dinner, which was interminable, and of sixty more speeches from the court gazette, where they had already done service two or three times, and wherein they were again deposited for the use of future generations. There is nothing so monotonous as happiness, and we must be indulgent to those who sing its praises officially. In such cases, the ablest is he who says the least. The long evening, during which the king had lavished his most gracious smiles on those whom he despised at the bottom of his heart, was at length at an end, and Charming led Pazza, no longer to a dungeon, but to a magnificent apartment, where a new surprise awaited her. At the bottom of the room was an illuminated transparency, on which were written lines so bad that a king alone could have been the author of them. These lines, which were published in the official gazette, have been handed down to us by one of those indiscreet persons who suffer no follies of the past to be lost. Such persons are the rag-pickers of history. Ye indolent dunces, who rust in your sloth, Too lazy or wilful to learn; Ye courtiers, who crowd round the king, nothing loth By base flattery his favor to earn; Ye doctors, who laugh at us cowards, and sell Long words and wise oracles dear— Beware lest some night a mischievous sprite Should give you a box on the ear. And you, ye proud husbands, puffed up with conceit, Who deem yourselves statesmen so wise That the whole world admiringly bows at your feet— Who truth, love, and goodness despise— Beware lest some day your less frivolous wives, Derided by those they held dear, Should start from your side, aroused by just pride, And give you a box on the ear. "What means this enigma, sire?" asked Pazza. "It means that I do myself justice," answered the king. "I am nothing except through you, dear Pazza; all that I know and all that I think I owe to you. Without you I am nothing but a soulless body, fit only for follies." "Pardon me if I contradict Your Majesty," said Pazza. "Oh," returned the king, "I affect no false modesty; I know very well that I have the clearest head of any in my council; my ministers themselves are forced to acknowledge it, for they are always of my opinion; but with all this there is more wisdom in your little finger than in all my royal brain. My resolution, therefore, is fixed. Let my court and people celebrate my wisdom, my goodness, and even my valor; it is all very well, and I accept the homage. You alone have the right to laugh at it, and you will not betray me. But from this day I abandon my power to you. The king, my dear Pazza, will be only the chief of your subjects, the faithful minister of your will. You shall write the piece and I will play it; the applause will be mine, according to custom, and I will give it back to you by force of love." "Do not talk in this way, my dear," said Pazza. "I know what I am saying," returned the king, warmly. "I wish you to rule; I mean that in my empire, as in my house, nothing shall be done except by your command; I am the master and the king; I desire and order it." "Sire," said Pazza, "I am your wife and servant; it is my duty to obey." After this, says the chronicle, they lived happily to a good old age, beloved by all their subjects; and the people of the kingdom of Wild Oats still talk of the good old days of Prince Charming and the Princess Pazza. THE END |
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