The unhappy Queen made a heroic attempt at a smile, but the result was so extraordinarily ghastly that it disheartened even Clarence.

"Oh, very well, Mater," he said, "you needn't--if it hurts you as much as all _that_. But you've been so plucky up to now, I never thought you'd come out as a wet blanket!"

Even Marie Antoinette herself, thought Queen Selina bitterly, had never had to bear being called a wet blanket!

CHAPTER XXI

"WHOSE LIGHTS ARE FLED, WHOSE GARLANDS DEAD"

Daphne had taken her seat in the car with somewhat conflicting feelings.

She was going to Clairdelune, where she would be reunited to Girofle--an altogether joyous prospect, if she could hope to find the Girofle with whom she had last parted. But he was now the magnificent young Prince Mirliflor, and it was quite uncertain whether she would even be able to recognise him. It would be dreadful if she discovered that she did not care for him any longer! Perhaps it was anxiety, but still more probably the fact of her Fairy blood that prevented her from being overcome by the somnolence that none of purely British birth seemed able to resist for long after entering that magic car.

Daphne was not in the least drowsy, and thus was startled, after the Palace and Eswareinmal had vanished out of sight, by hearing the Baron suddenly order the storks to go to the Chapel in the forest of Schlangenzweigen, and seeing them wheel in a direction she knew was not that of their original destination. "What are you doing, Baron?" she cried. "I thought you were to take me straight to Clairdelune?"

The Baron put his hand to his heart (which he had once more been obliged to compress by a metal hoop) before he could speak. "It is now time," he began, "that you should be told who you are, Madam, and the glorious future that awaits you." And, with a prolixity that may here be avoided, he informed her of her right to the crown of Marchenland and of the Marshal's arrangements for placing her on the throne.

"But I don't want to be placed on the throne!" said Daphne. "Do you really think I should turn out these poor Wibberley-Stimpsons now--when they behaved so decently in letting me go? It would be too horribly mean of me if I did."

At this he thought it his duty to enlighten her upon Queen Selina's perfidy, which naturally altered Daphne's opinion, but did not shake her determination.

"If she is so keen about her crown she may keep it," she said. "All I care for now is to get to Clairdelune and see Girofle--I mean Mirliflor."

"But," objected the Baron, employing the Marshal's argument, "we should arrive there days before the Prince."

"Then," said Daphne imperiously, "tell the storks to take us to him--wherever he is."

"If I did so," he objected, "the Marshal's plan would fall through!"

"And what if it does? How do you know that he's to be trusted? I always thought myself he had a bad face, and I don't feel at all inclined to put myself in his power. So you will please not be a pig, Baron, but do as I say."

No doubt her diction should have been more on a level with her dignity, but then it must be remembered that she had not been brought up as a prospective Fairy Queen.

"I am convinced," he persisted, "that the Marshal's devotion to your Majesty's cause is beyond suspicion."

"And I'm quite sure that it isn't," retorted Daphne. "If, as you tell me, Baron, I am your Queen, it's your duty to obey my orders, and I order you to take me to Mirliflor." He did not venture to oppose her any longer, so he gave the necessary command, and the great birds wheeled round once more towards Clairdelune.

Mirliflor had discovered, after accomplishing a third of his journey, that his horse had suddenly gone so lame that it was unable to proceed at any pace but a walk. He had dismounted, and was leading it until he could reach a hostelry and provide himself with a fresh steed, when he heard a loud throbbing in the air behind him. The next moment a large flight of storks pa.s.sed over his head and descended with a car on a spot some yards in advance of him. He saw at once that one of the occupants was Daphne, and leaving his horse by the wayside he went forward to meet her, not without some constraint and uncertainty, however, for his fear that she would love him no longer had not ceased to haunt him.

She had alighted and was standing still, her face expressing wonder and something of alarm. Could this splendid gallant cavalier really be her homely Girofle? she was thinking, and if he were, how could he help her to overcome this paralysing sense of his being a stranger? He came towards her, feeling almost as shy as she.

"Daphne! my dearest!" he said, stretching out his arms, "am I so changed that you can't care for me any more?" And, as she heard his voice, all her doubts and apprehensions suddenly fled.

"No," she murmured, placing a fair hand on each of his broad shoulders and looking fearlessly up into his face. "You are just the same, really. My very own Girofle! And, oh, I'm so glad!"

"And you forgive me for deceiving you, dearest?" he asked when the first rapture of meeting and rea.s.surance was over. "I was bound in honour to tell you nothing."

"I know," she said; "the Court G.o.dmother is to blame for that--not you.

And I was prepared to find you changed, Gir--Mirliflor--only--not quite so changed as this."

"If you would love me better as I was, darling," he said, "tell me so, and I will make her transform me again. I will become Girofle for the rest of my life--rather than lose you!"

"I don't think she is well enough to be asked to do that now," replied Daphne. "And, besides"--and here she held him from her at arm's length--"besides, now I look at you, you really are rather nice, you know! No, darling, I won't have you altered again."

After all, this was only in accordance with Marchenland's precedents.

Did Beauty, for instance, resent her Beast's emergence into a Prince?

All the same, Daphne was a little ashamed of herself for the increasing satisfaction she felt in Mirliflor's good looks--it seemed almost an infidelity to Girofle--but she could not help it, and did not even try.

The Baron had tactfully remained with the storks until, in his opinion, it was time to interrupt the lovers, when he stepped towards them, cracking loudly.

"Sire," he said, "accept my congratulations on a good fortune that is perchance even greater than you yet know. You have won a lady who is not only lovely, but, as I shall show you, no other than the daughter of our late Prince Chrysopras, and thus rightfully ent.i.tled to the crown of Marchenland."

"And you knew this, Daphne?" cried Mirliflor when the Baron had concluded. "Why did you say nothing to me about it?"

"I only heard of it myself just now in the car," she said. "And what does it matter? I don't want to claim the crown--all I want is to live at Clairdelune with you."

But he told her it was her duty to her Country to a.s.sert her just rights, and, on being informed of the appointment with the Marshal, he was in favour of keeping it. "He will be useful," he said, "if he is an honest supporter of your cause."

"But I'm quite certain he isn't!" said Daphne.

"We can only make sure by meeting him," he replied, "and as of course I shall be with you, you will be in no danger."

He had no weapon but the sword that had served him so well at Drachenstolz, which he had brought away with him rather as a _souvenir_ than with any idea that he might need it on his journey, but Daphne felt that, so long as Mirliflor was at her side, she had nothing to fear, and so she readily consented to re-enter the car and be taken to the Chapel in the forest, where the Marshal in all probability was awaiting her arrival.

As the car neared the borders of the forest, Mirliflor took out the silk cap which the Baron had lent him. "I meant to have returned this to you, Baron," he said, "but I find I have it still. With your permission, I will keep it a little longer, as I fancy it may be useful. Don't be alarmed, darling," he added to Daphne, "if you don't see me when I put this on. Remember that, though I shall be invisible, I shall be near you all the time."

"I'll try to remember, Mirliflor," said Daphne. "But--but don't stay invisible longer than you can possibly help."

The Chapel stood in a clearing in the very middle of the forest, and the storks calculated their descent with such nicety that they brought the car up in front of the door.

The Marshal, in his plumed helmet, golden cuira.s.s, and high boots of gilded leather, was waiting, and now came forward to help Daphne to alight. His vizor was raised, but the company of knights with him wore theirs down, so that it was impossible for her to know who they were or whether they intended her good or ill.

"We expected you long ere this, Lady Daphne," said the Marshal as he handed her out.

"Did you, Marshal?" she said, trying to appear unconcerned. "We went a little out of our way." She noticed that, either by accident or design, several of the knights had interposed themselves between herself and the Baron.

"We have the less time at our disposal," said the Marshal, "so I will come to the point at once. You have no doubt been already informed of your rights, and that I and my companions are here to place you on the throne, provided you accept my conditions?"

"I--I was not told of any conditions," said Daphne.

"There is but one," he said, and at this the Chapel door was thrown open and a priest of extremely disreputable exterior appeared on the threshold, with the lighted altar as his background. "Wed me--and you shall be Queen of Marchenland."