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Updated: June 23, 2025
The lord chancellor told me that not only Gwyntystorm but the whole land was mourning over the illness of the good man. Now Curdie himself had not heard a word of His Majesty's illness, and had no ground for believing that a single soul in any place he had visited on his journey had heard of it.
The moment she saw her master in danger she seemed to go mad with rage. As the mastiff jumped at Curdie's throat, Lina flew at him, seized him with her tremendous jaws, gave one roaring grind, and he lay beside the bulldog with his neck broken. They were the best dogs in the market, after the judgement of the butchers of Gwyntystorm. Down came their masters, knives in hand.
At last she turned and said, 'Now Lina! and Lina dashed burrowing into the fire. There went up a black smoke and a dust, and Lina was never more seen in the palace. Irene and Curdie were married. The old king died, and they were king and queen. As long as they lived Gwyntystorm was a better city, and good people grew in it. But they had no children, and when they died the people chose a king.
He broke out laughing. 'They are much mistaken, he said, 'if they fancy they could keep Lina and a miner in any house in Gwyntystorm even if they built up doors and windows. With that he shouldered his mattock. But Derba begged him not to make a hole in her house just yet. She had plenty for breakfast, she said, and before it was time for dinner they would know what the people meant by it.
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