beggar’s spawn, for what thou got’st me from his Highness!”
The crowd roared with laughter. The prince picked himself out of the mud, and made fiercely at the sentry, shouting—
“I am the Prince of Wales, my person is sacred; and thou shalt hang for laying thy hand upon me!”
The soldier brought his halberd to a present-arms and said mockingly—
“I salute your gracious Highness.” Then angrily—“Be off, thou crazy rubbish!”
Here the jeering crowd closed round the poor little prince, and hustled him far down the road, hooting him, and shouting—
“Way for his Royal Highness! Way for the Prince of Wales!”
Chapter IV. The Prince’s troubles begin.
After hours of persistent pursuit and persecution, the little prince was at last deserted by the rabble and left to himself. As long as he had been able to rage against the mob, and threaten it royally, and royally utter commands that were good stuff to laugh at, he was very entertaining; but when weariness finally forced him to be silent, he was no longer of use to his tormentors, and they sought amusement elsewhere. He looked about him, now, but could not recognise the locality. He was within the city of London—that was all he knew. He moved on, aimlessly, and in a little while the houses thinned, and the passers-by were infrequent. He bathed his bleeding feet in the brook which flowed then where Farringdon Street now is; rested a few moments, then passed on, and presently came upon a great space with only a few scattered houses in it, and a prodigious church. He recognised this church. Scaffoldings were about, everywhere, and swarms of workmen; for it was undergoing elaborate repairs. The prince took heart at once—he felt that his troubles were at an end, now. He said to
Prev.
Back
Top