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 stupidbutler! 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 audiblebreath - 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 gorgeouschamber 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.'
CHAPTER 20

Counterplotting
Curdie was already sufficiently enlightened as to how things were

going, to see that he must have the princess of one mind with him,
and they must work together. It was clear that among those about

the king there was a plot against him: for one thing, they had
agreed in a lie concerning himself; and it was plain also that the

doctor was working out a design against the health and reason of
His Majesty, rendering the question of his life a matter of little

moment. It was in itself sufficient to justify the worst fears,
that the people outside the palace were ignorant of His Majesty's

condition: he believed those inside it also - the butler excepted
- were ignorant of it as well. Doubtless His Majesty's councillors

desired to alienate the hearts of his subjects from their
sovereign. Curdie's idea was that they intended to kill the king,

marry the princess to one of themselves, and found a new dynasty;
but whatever their purpose, there was treason in the palace of the

worst sort: they were making and keeping the king incapable, in
order to effect that purpose- The first thing to be seen to,

therefore, was that His Majesty should neither eat morsel nor drink
drop of anything prepared for him in the palace. Could this have

been managed without the princess, Curdie would have preferred
leaving her in ignorance of the horrors from which he sought to

deliver her. He feared also the danger of her knowledge betraying
itself to the evil eyes about her; but it must be risked and she

had always been a wise child.
Another thing was clear to him - that with such traitors no terms

of honour were either binding or possible, and that, short of
lying, he might use any means to foil them. And he could not doubt

that the old princess had sent him expressly to frustrate their
plans.

While he stood thinking thus with himself, the princess was
earnestly watching the king, with looks of childish love and

womanly tenderness that went to Curdie's heart. Now and then with
a great fan of peacock feathers she would fan him very softly; now

and then, seeing a cloud begin to gather upon the sky of his
sleeping face, she would climb upon the bed, and bending to his ear

whisper into it, then draw back and watch again - generally to see
the cloud disperse. in his deepest slumber, the soul of the king

lay open to the voice of his child, and that voice had power either
to change the aspect of his visions, or, which was better still, to

breathe hope into his heart, and courage to endure them.
Curdie came near, and softly called her.

'I can't leave Papa just yet,' she returned, in a low voice.
'I will wait,' said Curdie; 'but I want very much to say

something.'