Now Curdie himself had not heard a word of His Majesty's illness, and had no ground for believing that a single soul in any place he had visited on his journey had heard of it.Moreover, although mention had been made of His Majesty again and again in his hearing since he came to Gwyntystorm, never once had he heard an allusion to the state of his health.And now it dawned upon him also that he had never heard the least expression of love to him.But just for the time he thought it better to say nothing on either point.
'Does the king wander like this every night?' he asked.
'Every night,' answered Irene, shaking her head mournfully.'That is why I never go to bed at night.He is better during the day -a little, and then I sleep - in the dressing room there, to be with him in a moment if he should call me.It is so sad he should have only me and not my mamma! A princess is nothing to a queen!'
'I wish he would like me,' said Curdie, 'for then I might watch by him at night, and let you go to bed, Princess.'
'Don't you know then?' returned Irene, in wonder.'How was it you came? Ah! You said my grandmother sent you.But I thought you knew that he wanted you.'
And again she opened wide her blue stars.
'Not I,' said Curdie, also bewildered, but very glad.
'He used to be constantly saying - he was not so ill then as he is now - that he wished he had you about him.'
'And I never to know it!' said Curdie, with displeasure.
'The master of the horse told papa's own secretary that he had written to the miner-general to find you and send you up; but the miner-general wrote back to the master of the horse, and he told the secretary, and the secretary told my father, that they had searched every mine in the kingdom and could hear nothing of you.
My father gave a great sigh, and said he feared the goblins had got you, after all, and your father and mother were dead of grief.And he has never mentioned you since, except when wandering.I cried very much.But one of my grandmother's pigeons with its white wing flashed a message to me through the window one day, and then I knew that my Curdie wasn't eaten by the goblins, for my grandmother wouldn't have taken care of him one time to let him be eaten the next.Where were you, Curdie, that they couldn't find you?'
'We will talk about that another time, when we are not expecting the doctor,' said Curdie.
As he spoke, his eyes fell upon something shining on the table under the lamp.His heart gave a great throb, and he went nearer.
Yes, there could be no doubt - it was the same flagon that the butler had filled in the wine cellar.
'It looks worse and worse!'he said to himself, and went back to Irene, where she stood half dreaming.
'When will the doctor be here?' he asked once more - this time hurriedly.
The question was answered - not by the princess, but by something which that instant tumbled heavily into the room.Curdie flew toward it in vague terror about Lina.
On the floor lay a little round man, puffing and blowing, and uttering incoherent language.Curdie thought of his mattock, and ran and laid it aside.
'Oh, dear Dr Kelman!' cried the princess, running up and taking hold of his arm; 'I am so sorry!' She pulled and pulled, but might almost as well have tried to set up a cannon ball.'I hope you have not hurt yourself?'
'Not at all, not at all,' said the doctor, trying to smile and to rise both at once, but finding it impossible to do either.
'if he slept on the floor he would be late for breakfast,' said Curdie to himself, and held out his hand to help him.
But when he took hold of it, Curdie very nearly let him fall again, for what he held was not even a foot: it was the belly of a creeping thing.He managed, however, to hold both his peace and his grasp, and pulled the doctor roughly on his legs - such as they were.
'Your Royal Highness has rather a thick mat at the door,' said the doctor, patting his palms together.'I hope my awkwardness may not have startled His Majesty.'
While he talked Curdie went to the door: Lina was not there.
The doctor approached the bed.
'And how has my beloved king slept tonight?' he asked.
'No better,' answered Irene, with a mournful shake of her head.
'Ah, that is very well!' returned the doctor, his fall seeming to have muddled either his words or his meaning.'When we give him his wine, he will be better still.'
Curdie darted at the flagon, and lifted it high, as if he had expected to find it full, but had found it empty.
'That stupid butler! I heard them say he was drunk!' he cried in a loud whisper, and was gliding from the room.
'Come here with that flagon, you! Page!' cried the doctor.
Curdie came a few steps toward him with the flagon dangling from his hand, heedless of the gushes that fell noiseless on the thick carpet.
'Are you aware, young man,' said the doctor, 'that it is not every wine can do His Majesty the benefit I intend he should derive from my prescription?'
'Quite aware, sir, answered Curdie.'The wine for His Majesty's use is in the third cask from the corner.'
'Fly, then,' said the doctor, looking satisfied.
Curdie stopped outside the curtain and blew an audible breath - no more; up came Lina noiseless as a shadow.He showed her the flagon.
'The cellar, Lina: go,' he said.
She galloped away on her soft feet, and Curdie had indeed to fly to keep up with her.Not once did she make even a dubious turn.From the king's gorgeous chamber to the cold cellar they shot.Curdie dashed the wine down the back stair, rinsed the flagon out as he had seen the butler do, filled it from the cask of which he had seen the butler drink, and hastened with it up again to the king's room.
The little doctor took it, poured out a full glass, smelt, but did not taste it, and set it down.Then he leaned over the bed, shouted in the king's ear, blew upon his eyes, and pinched his arm:
Curdie thought he saw him run something bright into it.At last the king half woke.The doctor seized the glass, raised his head, poured the wine down his throat, and let his head fall back on the pillow again.Tenderly wiping his beard, and bidding the princess good night in paternal tones, he then took his leave.Curdie would gladly have driven his pick into his head, but that was not in his commission, and he let him go.The little round man looked very carefully to his feet as he crossed the threshold.
'That attentive fellow of a page has removed the mat,' he said to himself, as he walked along the corridor.'I must remember him.'