Chapter I.

Otago Witness, Issue 2130, 20 December 1894, Page 14

Chapter I.

The King's Visit NCE upon a time there lived in a certain city a very wonderful artist. He painted beautiful pictures, and also ugly ones, ao that people were astonished at seeing then), and very much afraid of him. At first when he had come to live in the city and had

shown his pictures to the ,people, all who had money, and liked to see their own portraits hanging id their house*, ifrent to him and g>t him to paint their jpicturee. But after awhile the people stopped having their pictures dons, and no one vronld go and sit for him even when he &eked them to do so.

He was a very Btrange man, who lived all eloae, with no one to attend to his wants (but a young page. All young people were iafraid of tbe artist except this page, who jfieemed to be very fond of him. And as the people of the city had taken a dislike to the artist they included the page in their dislike, kind said "Like master like servant," and forbade their children even to speak to him.

And what was the reason that the people jflitliked the artist ? Well, no one oould say for certain. If you could have aiked an Inhabitant of the city that question, he Inrould have said very vehemently that he did tiot like him — that he was a bad man, that be dealt in witchcraft and magic be was sure, and in fact he knew him to be very wicked. If you had asked for reasons you trould probably not have got any satisfactory ones.

But the people were afraid of the artist. |md, not daring to do him any personal Injury, had ended by hating him as the nearest thing to injury that they oould do.

He had certainly succeeded in soaring the Inhabitants of the city. When he had painted people's pictures he had not made them sit still while he painted them a» artists u&ually do, but he had asked then Kffably to take a meal with him. Then he tad entertained them in hiß studio until it Waß bo late that they had to go away without giving him a sitting at all. Then the next time they had gone and come away &gain without jieeicg him put a brush to canvas, and after arriving home, some of them would begin to feel sorry they had talked so muoh.

On thinking things over, one man would remember that he had told all his business seoretp, and would blame himself for letting friß tongue run so fast. A lady would recollect she had admitted to the artist that her iamily was not the great one that she represented to everybody, and that she only had balf the income to spend that the world thought she bad. Then these people would feel ai'gry, and say they would not go again to sit for an artist who didn't want to paint them, and they would not go near him any jnore. But after a little while, behold 1 the fcicture would arrive, and there would be their portrait* staring at them from the Canvas. But as a rule the people themselves $id not like their own portraits— only their friends did.

"It's a speaking likeness, my dear," one lady of fashion would »ay to another. And the lady addressed would wonder how much it spoke— whether it told about her poor origin or her striving to make endß meet.

And so the people ended by giving the fcrtist no more orders, and left, him severelj alone.

And yet they had only themselves to thauk. They were indiscreet before the artist, and i«howed their true characters, and lie painted just what he saw. The artist wa« sitting in his studio one clay finishing a great picture which had taken him a long time to do. Every stroke now Vas bringing it visibly nearer completion,

and he had a pleased, happy look oa his face at the idea that it would soon be done. Ho was not at all a dreacltul man to look at, this artist. He had a gentle, kindly faco, with piercing grey eyes and a beard as white a 9 snow. Yet he did not seem at all an old man.

The picture represented the interior of a wonderful palace. Rows of white marble oolumns stretched away into the distance. There seemed to be a long passage of them, and at the end there was a golden door. The pavement of the palace was of the finest marble of different kinds inlaid with gold and silver. But there was no figure in the picture. It was enough to make one wonder why the artigt had taken so much trouble and spent so mush of his wonderful genius in painting merely to Bhow a picture containing marble columns and inlaid floors, however beautiful they might be. Bat the artist painted away as h&ppily as if he were puttir.g the last touches to the golden hair of a beautiful maideo, and after a while he Btopped, stretched himself, and went some distance away to see the effect of his la6t strokes.

Then he flung down his brushes. " Finished 1" he exclaimed. "Finished for the present." Ho took a turn up his studio and Ui«n stopped, and appeared to be listening. " Will ho come 1 " he seemed to be asking himstlf.

Apparently he had not long to wait. At that very moment there was the sound of horses' hoofs in the street outside, and a moment later down the passage o&me his young pfige, ushering in a man whose clothes appeared travel-stained and untidy. He wat not well dressed, but he swung forward in an impatient manner, and was in the middle of the studio before the page had time to announce him. He was about to address the artist when be saw the large just-completed picture which stood on an easel opposite him. He utarted, then turned haughtily and angrily to the artist. " Knave I " he exclaimed in tones of thunder, " what ia the meaning of this 1 " and he waved bis hand impatiently towards the picture. " Softly, your Majesty," said the artist, looking coolly at his angry visitor. " Yoa have not been pleased to introduce yourself yet." " True," replied the King impatiently, for it was indeed the king of the country who was paying the artist this visit. " We had intended ooming in disguise, and how you have penetrated it we know not." "Well, my liege," responded the artist, •with what «a> actually a twinkla in his eye. " Your Majesty is the only person who would call me a knave to my face."

" You are right," replied the King, who was quie a gentleman when he remembered to keep bl«t temper. "We apologise. But at ihe same time we desire to know the meaning of that picture." " That," said the artist in a perfectly quiet tone, "is the interior of a palace imagined and carried out by myself. There is little of interest in it to the ordinary observer."

" I am not speaking of the ordinary observer," broke in the King impatiently and haughtily. "I presume that to be able to paint so good a likeness of that palaon you must have been in it, and I desire to know when you had tha audacity to attempt to penetrate into the inner recesses of my palace." The artist replied nothing to this peremptory speech. And, moreover, he did not seem in the least cast down or afraid at the King's displeasure. He looked calmly at the King and said nothing, seeming even to act as if no reply was expacted. His Majesty, who certainly waa not accustomed to be treated in this manner, at length even seemed a little abashed before the calm gaze of this strange man. He modified hit speech somewhat, and took towards his subject, more of the tone of an equal. He looked condescendingly for a seat, whioh his host hastened to place for him.

11 1 have beard a great many things about you from my subjects," continued the King, more mildly than he had began. " I suppose yoa know what the people think of you in this city 1 '* The artist bowed his head. " Some of them think you a knave, some a wizard."

"And all are agreed that I am utterly wicked," added the artist oalmly.

"Well, I did not say that," replied the King; "but" shrugging blb shoulders, " what will you have ? Men are fools, and they hate you if you tell them the troth. Now, I hear that you have been telling them the truth in the pictures you have painted of them."

" It is what artißts are supposed to do," he gald softly. "They will not forgive you, yet they fear you. You have a great power over them. You have made them believe in you, though they hate you." The artist's eyes flashed with satisfaction at this speech. " And I, their King, have come to aek a favour of you — to ask you to help me." The artist still stood and listened, and then the King turned to the picture on the easel. He laughed uneasily.

" The people say yon know all secrets. And seeing this picture I find it difficult to believe you are ignorant of mine. Do you know it, or must I tell you 1 "

" If your Majeßty pleases, I should prefer to be told."

"So be it. You have here painted the inner corridor in my palace, which vary few are ever allowed to pass through, under penalty of death. You have also put at the end of the corridor that golden door, of which few people know the existence, and through which only a few, bouod by oath of secrecy, are allowed to pass. Behind that door lies the chief anxiety and the greatest delight of my life.

" You will no doubt toll me that I was wroDg in keeping my Recret as I have done for so long, and in deceiving the world. You will not blame me, however, if you know the reasons I bad and still have for doing so.

" Long ago, when I was a young prince, and my father was upon the throne of thin country, I formed a great friendship with the son of an enemy of my father's, the powerful King ot the next kingdom of Yasula. My father and the King of Yasnla were bitter enemies, and X think that they

both, because of the enmity they bore each other, were rather pleased that their respective soas should become friend?. Each King thought that it would be very ea«y to cause his aon suddenly to break the friendship ho bad formed and thus to give grief to the other. But it was not after all the fathers who broke the friendship between us. Another thing happened. We both fell in love with the same Piincees.

" At first our fathers quarreled over this, and then, in spite of the friendship we bore ®ne another, wo ourselvas quarrelled also. At last we nearly fonght each other. But our two kiDg fathers did not want that. One of us would have been killed, and one country would have lost a prince. So it was settled that, instead of fighting, we should run a race, and the winner of the race should also win the hand of the lovely Princess. Now this Princess was very wealthy as well as bsautlful, and as the people of both countries wanted to claim her, and it was feared that the running of a race would scarcely deoide matters, it was settled by the two King* that whoever won and married her should, if any children were born, hand over the eldest child to the King of the other country with a substantial dowry ; either to marry the other Prinoe's child, if there was one, or to become an adopted eon or daughter of the other royal house. With this decUion made, we ran the raoe, and I won It. I won the glorious Princess and the riches and the honour, while my somo-timo friend, the Prince of Yasnla, had nothing but a promise to oonaole him for hia loss.

" For many years, as no doubt you know, I and my beautitul Princess lived happily together. The promise made to the Prince of Ya«ulstdid not weigh at all heavily on my mind. My wife and I had no children, and, moreover, we were perfectly contented with each other. Then the King of Yasula died, and the Prince became King. Still he did not marry, but remained faithful to the memory of the fair lady whom I had won from him. Then my fattier died too, and I became king. I had only been kiDg for about ft year when one day a little daughter was bom to us. But, alas I the rejoioings which I aud my country were ready to make were out 3hort. For only two short months — so ran the promise — was this dtar child to remain to my wife and me, and then she wa» to be handed over to the King of Yasula and to belong to him, and never to be ours again. We had never suspected that this would be such an awful blow to us. My wife urged me to try and buy the Prince of Yasula'B right to the child, even if it should coat us half our kingdom. I made all the offers I could think of. My wife's whole dowry was placed at his disposal, together with three of my great provinces — more I could not offer becauße of my people. Bat the Klne; of Yaßula would have my daughter, aud nothing else would satisfy him. To make a long story s'aort, the idea of lot.iog her baby preyed so mnch upon the Queen's mind that, not being very strong naturally, she fell very ill. No entreaties would prevail with my hard-hearted enemy, and at last the Quoen died of sorrow. It was just a few days before the baby Princess was to be sent to the cruel King of Yasula. Overcome with grief and rage, and the thought that the last link of my happy life was going away with my child, I made a solemn vow that, corns what would, I would not give up the baby. There was no question of fighting the matter out, for a promise is a promise, and my people would not sanction my breaking it. Well, I made up my mind to hide my child, and put a dead baby in her place. I soon caused one to be found whioh would do for my purpose. I hid my own child in the most seoret part of the palace, and placed the dead baby in a golden coffin. This, and the promised dowry, I aent with all pomp and splendour to the King of Yasula. " Nobody but a few trusty servants have ever known of the Princass'a existence. She has lived all this time in the palace behind that golden door, with her ©wn covered gardens and her own rooms ; a beautiful, happy girl ; my joy all these yeara." Here the King paused for so long that the artist spoke gently, to remind him where he waß and to whom he was speaking.

" And your Majesty wants my help? " The King roused himself. "Ah, yes; I was coming to that. What I have found out now is that the King of Yasula has begun to ■uspect that my child is not dead at all. I do not know how he has get the idea, but for some time he has been sending me envoys who hava let drop hints that he knows." "But in what way can I help your Majesty ? " " You have the name of being the wisest man in the land. You can advise me what to do," said the King, quickly and earnestly. " If the Princesß is found, nothing in the world will prevent the King of Yasula from getting possession of her, and I am determined to r-»ift him to the very end."

11 Your Majesty has indeed brought me a bard problem to solve," replied the artist. " I fear you have too high an opinion of my abilities. And whatever I may think of your Majesty's conduct towards the King of Yaßiila, I feel indeed sorry for your innooent daughter." The King flushed angrily at this speech and would have spoken, but he thought better of it and remained silent.

" But I do not see what I can do to help your Majesty," continued the artlßt. " I have one gift, the gift of painting. It is at your Majesty's service. More than that is not in my power. lam afraid I am of little ÜBe in a need like this/

"You are wise," said the King eagerly. " Help me I Anything shall be yours, to the half of my kingdom." "As to advice, there Is only one kind I can give. And that is, own that your daughter is still alive, and defy the King of Yasnla."

His Majesty shook his head. "Ho is twice as powerful as I am, and ray psople are afraid that tbe kingdom of Yapula would swallow us up. Otherwise I should long ago have made war on him. But I have thought of something. They say you paint wonderful pictures of people in which, if you like, you can make them appear repulsive to their friends, so that no one who looks on the plotnre will care for them again. They say you have separated lovers and friends by a stroke of your brush " " I bava onlj told the, truths

" Make a piotnre of my daughter, whioh I may send to the King of Yasnla, and which will prevent him from ever caring about her or wanting to see her. Then pwrohance he will accept all her riches and leave her with me." " I will try, your Majesty, but I doubt if I can succeed. If she is good " " Oh, you will succeed," interrupted the King; "you are famed for your geniu3 throughout the land. I hare no fear." And, accustomed a 6 ho was to carry everything before him, he would hear no more, but roße impatiently. Making the artist promise to come to the palace as soon as possible and commence a picture of the lovely Princess that, while making her still beautiful, should cause her to be repulsive to those who gazed on her, he departed. The young page came into the studio after the King bad gone, and looked earnestly at his master. He found the artist deep in thought. "Can I help thee, 0 my master!" he asked.

The artist looked up at his page, and as he gazed a thought seemed to strike him. He was a noble-looking, handsome, straight lad, fit to be a prince. "Boy," he said suddenly, "thou hast served me well these many years, and hast desired no reward but my praise and love. Perchance there is still another reward awaiting theo."