The Little Lame Prince | Page 5

arms. But when the boy came to him, not running like a boy, but
wriggling awkwardly along the floor, the royal countenance clouded
over.
"I ought to have been told of this. It is terrible--terrible! And for a
prince too. Send for all the doctors in my kingdom immediately."
They came, and each gave a different opinion and ordered a different
mode of treatment. The only thing they agreed in was what had been
pretty well known before, that the Prince must have been hurt when he
was an infant--let fall, perhaps, so as to injure his spine and lower limbs.
Did nobody remember?
No, nobody. Indignantly, all the nurses denied that any such accident
had happened, was possible to have happened, until the faithful country
nurse recollected that it really had happened on the day of the
christening. For which unluckily good memory all the others scolded
her so severely that she had no peace of her life, and soon after, by the
influence of the young lady nurse who had carried the baby that fatal
day, and who was a sort of connection of the Crown-Prince--being his
wife's second cousin once removed--the poor woman was pensioned
off and sent to the Beautiful Mountains from whence she came, with
orders to remain there for the rest of her days.
But of all this the King knew nothing, for, indeed, after the first shock
of finding out that his son could not walk, and seemed never likely to
he interfered very little concerning him. The whole thing was too
painful, and his Majesty never liked painful things. Sometimes he
inquired after Prince Dolor, and they told him his Royal Highness was
going on as well as could be expected, which really was the case. For,
after worrying the poor child and perplexing themselves with one
remedy after another, the Crown-Prince, not wishing to offend any of
the differing doctors, had proposed leaving him to Nature; and Nature,
the safest doctor of all, had come to his help and done her best.

He could not walk, it is true; his limbs were mere useless appendages to
his body; but the body itself was strong and sound. And his face was
the same as ever--just his mother's face, one of the sweetest in the
world.
Even the King, indifferent as he was, sometimes looked at the little
fellow with sad tenderness, noticing how cleverly he learned to crawl
and swing himself about by his arms, so that in his own awkward way
he was as active in motion as most children of his age.
"Poor little man! he does his best, and he is not unhappy--not half so
unhappy as I, brother," addressing the Crown-Prince, who was more
constant than ever in his attendance upon the sick monarch. "If
anything should befall me, I have appointed you Regent. In case of my
death, you will take care of my poor little boy?"
"Certainly, certainly; but do not let us imagine any such misfortune. I
assure your Majesty--everybody will assure you--that it is not in the
least likely."
He knew, however, and everybody knew, that it was likely, and soon
after it actually did happen. The King died as suddenly and quietly as
the Queen had done--indeed, in her very room and bed; and Prince
Dolor was left without either father or mother--as sad a thing as could
happen, even to a prince.
He was more than that now, though. He was a king. In Nomansland, as
in other countries, the people were struck with grief one day and
revived the next. "The king is dead--long live the king!" was the cry
that rang through the nation, and almost before his late Majesty had
been laid beside the Queen in their splendid mausoleum, crowds came
thronging from all parts to the royal palace, eager to see the new
monarch.
They did see him,--the Prince Regent took care they should,--sitting on
the floor of the council chamber, sucking his thumb! And when one of
the gentlemen-in-waiting lifted him up and carried him--fancy carrying
a king!--to the chair of state, and put the crown on his head, he shook it

off again, it was so heavy and uncomfortable. Sliding down to the foot
of the throne he began playing with the golden lions that supported it,
stroking their paws and putting his tiny fingers into their eyes, and
laughing--laughing as if he had at last found something to amuse him.
"There's a fine king for you!" said the first lord-in-waiting, a friend of
the Prince Regent's (the Crown-Prince that used to be, who, in the
deepest mourning, stood silently beside the throne of his young nephew.
He was a handsome man, very grand and clever-looking). "What a king!
who can never stand to receive his subjects, never