The Prince and the Pauper | Page 4

then stretch
himself upon his handful of foul straw, and resume his empty grandeurs
in his dreams.
And still his desire to look just once upon a real prince, in the flesh,
grew upon him, day by day, and week by week, until at last it absorbed
all other desires, and became the one passion of his life.
One January day, on his usual begging tour, he tramped despondently
up and down the region round about Mincing Lane and Little East
Cheap, hour after hour, bare-footed and cold, looking in at cook-shop
windows and longing for the dreadful pork-pies and other deadly
inventions displayed there--for to him these were dainties fit for the
angels; that is, judging by the smell, they were--for it had never been
his good luck to own and eat one. There was a cold drizzle of rain; the
atmosphere was murky; it was a melancholy day. At night Tom reached
home so wet and tired and hungry that it was not possible for his father
and grandmother to observe his forlorn condition and not be
moved--after their fashion; wherefore they gave him a brisk cuffing at
once and sent him to bed. For a long time his pain and hunger, and the

swearing and fighting going on in the building, kept him awake; but at
last his thoughts drifted away to far, romantic lands, and he fell asleep
in the company of jewelled and gilded princelings who live in vast
palaces, and had servants salaaming before them or flying to execute
their orders. And then, as usual, he dreamed that HE was a princeling
himself.
All night long the glories of his royal estate shone upon him; he moved
among great lords and ladies, in a blaze of light, breathing perfumes,
drinking in delicious music, and answering the reverent obeisances of
the glittering throng as it parted to make way for him, with here a smile,
and there a nod of his princely head.
And when he awoke in the morning and looked upon the wretchedness
about him, his dream had had its usual effect--it had intensified the
sordidness of his surroundings a thousandfold. Then came bitterness,
and heart-break, and tears.
Chapter III.
Tom's meeting with the Prince.
Tom got up hungry, and sauntered hungry away, but with his thoughts
busy with the shadowy splendours of his night's dreams. He wandered
here and there in the city, hardly noticing where he was going, or what
was happening around him. People jostled him, and some gave him
rough speech; but it was all lost on the musing boy. By-and-by he
found himself at Temple Bar, the farthest from home he had ever
travelled in that direction. He stopped and considered a moment, then
fell into his imaginings again, and passed on outside the walls of
London. The Strand had ceased to be a country-road then, and regarded
itself as a street, but by a strained construction; for, though there was a
tolerably compact row of houses on one side of it, there were only
some scattered great buildings on the other, these being palaces of rich
nobles, with ample and beautiful grounds stretching to the
river--grounds that are now closely packed with grim acres of brick and
stone.

Tom discovered Charing Village presently, and rested himself at the
beautiful cross built there by a bereaved king of earlier days; then idled
down a quiet, lovely road, past the great cardinal's stately palace,
toward a far more mighty and majestic palace beyond--Westminster.
Tom stared in glad wonder at the vast pile of masonry, the
wide-spreading wings, the frowning bastions and turrets, the huge stone
gateway, with its gilded bars and its magnificent array of colossal
granite lions, and other the signs and symbols of English royalty. Was
the desire of his soul to be satisfied at last? Here, indeed, was a king's
palace. Might he not hope to see a prince now--a prince of flesh and
blood, if Heaven were willing?
At each side of the gilded gate stood a living statue--that is to say, an
erect and stately and motionless man-at-arms, clad from head to heel in
shining steel armour. At a respectful distance were many country folk,
and people from the city, waiting for any chance glimpse of royalty that
might offer. Splendid carriages, with splendid people in them and
splendid servants outside, were arriving and departing by several other
noble gateways that pierced the royal enclosure.
Poor little Tom, in his rags, approached, and was moving slowly and
timidly past the sentinels, with a beating heart and a rising hope, when
all at once he caught sight through the golden bars of a spectacle that
almost made him shout for joy. Within was a comely boy, tanned and
brown with sturdy outdoor sports and exercises, whose clothing