The Little Lame Prince | Page 6

Miss Mulock
the chapel
window, or slipped through the doorway among the bewildered crowd,
nobody knew--nobody ever thought about her.
Only the nurse, the ordinary homely one, coming out of the Prince's
nursery in the middle of the night in search of a cordial to quiet his
continual moans, saw, sitting in the doorway, something which she
would have thought a mere shadow, had she not seen shining out of it
two eyes, gray and soft and sweet. She put her hand before her own,
screaming loudly. When she took them away the old woman was gone.
CHAPTER II
Everybody was very kind to the poor little prince. I think people
generally are kind to motherless children, whether princes or peasants.
He had a magnificent nursery and a regular suite of attendants, and was
treated with the greatest respect and state. Nobody was allowed to talk
to him in silly baby language, or dandle him, or, above all to kiss him,
though perhaps some people did it surreptitiously, for he was such a
sweet baby that it was difficult to help it.
It could not be said that the Prince missed his mother--children of his
age cannot do that; but somehow after she died everything seemed to
go wrong with him. From a beautiful baby he became sickly and pale,
seeming to have almost ceased growing, especially in his legs, which
had been so fat and strong.
But after the day of his christening they withered and shrank; he no
longer kicked them out either in passion or play, and when, as he got to
be nearly a year old, his nurse tried to make him stand upon them, he

only tumbled down.
This happened so many times that at last people began to talk about it.
A prince, and not able to stand on his own legs! What a dreadful thing!
What a misfortune for the country!
Rather a misfortune to him also, poor little boy! but nobody seemed to
think of that. And when, after a while, his health revived, and the old
bright look came back to his sweet little face, and his body grew larger
and stronger, though still his legs remained the same, people continued
to speak of him in whispers, and with grave shakes of the head.
Everybody knew, though nobody said it, that something, it was
impossible to guess what, was not quite right with the poor little Prince.
Of course, nobody hinted this to the King his father: it does not do to
tell great people anything unpleasant. And besides, his Majesty took
very little notice of his son, or of his other affairs, beyond the necessary
duties of his kingdom.
People had said he would not miss the Queen at all, she having been so
long an invalid, but he did. After her death he never was quite the same.
He established himself in her empty rooms, the only rooms in the
palace whence one could see the Beautiful Mountains, and was often
observed looking at them as if he thought she had flown away thither,
and that his longing could bring her back again. And by a curious
coincidence, which nobody dared inquire into, he desired that the
Prince might be called, not by any of the four-and-twenty grand names
given him by his godfathers and godmothers, but by the identical name
mentioned by the little old woman in gray--Dolor, after his mother
Dolorez.
Once a week, according to established state custom, the Prince, dressed
in his very best, was brought to the King his father for half an hour, but
his Majesty was generally too ill and too melancholy to pay much heed
to the child.
Only once, when he and the Crown-Prince, who was exceedingly
attentive to his royal brother, were sitting together, with Prince Dolor

playing in a corner of the room, dragging himself about with his arms
rather than his legs, and sometimes trying feebly to crawl from one
chair to another, it seemed to strike the father that all was not right with
his son.
"How old is his Royal Highness?" said he suddenly to the nurse.
"Two years, three months, and five days, please your Majesty."
"It does not please me," said the King, with a sigh. "He ought to be far
more forward than he is now ought he not, brother? You, who have so
many children, must know. Is there not something wrong about him?"
"Oh, no," said the Crown-Prince, exchanging meaning looks with the
nurse, who did not understand at all, but stood frightened and trembling
with the tears in her eyes. "Nothing to make your Majesty at all uneasy.
No doubt his Royal Highness will outgrow it in time."
"Outgrow--what?"
"A slight delicacy--ahem!--in the spine; something inherited, perhaps,
from his dear mother."
"Ah, she
Continue reading on your phone by scaning this QR Code

 / 59
Tip: The current page has been bookmarked automatically. If you wish to continue reading later, just open the Dertz Homepage, and click on the 'continue reading' link at the bottom of the page.