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Updated: June 17, 2025
Poor Lady Molinda could not but be hurt by the prince's preference for death over marriage to her, little as she liked him.
"There!" said his majesty, crossing his cheque and throwing sand over it, for blotting-paper had not yet been invented; "there, take that, and be off with you!" Prince Prigio was respectfully but rapidly obeying his royal command, for he thought he had better cash the royal cheque as soon as possible, when his majesty yelled: "Hi! here! come back! I forgot something; you've got to marry Molinda!"
"Is life, then, so worthless? and is Molinda so terrible a person that you prefer those arms," and she pointed to the gibbet, "to these?" here she held out her own, which were very white, round and pretty: for Molinda was a good-hearted girl, she could not bear to see Prigio put to death; and then, perhaps, she reflected that there are worse positions than the queenship of Pantouflia.
She called him, over and over again, her champion, her Henrico, her preserver, and vowed that his Molinda would be ever, ever faithful to him. She clung to him. "Ah, child! have I not thy precious image, thy precious hair, thy precious writing here?" she said, looking in his face. "Shall it not go with me to the grave? It would, sir, were I to meet with unkindness from my Henrico!" she sighed out.
"Honour bright!" answered the prince, and, for the first time in many months, the royal father and son shook hands. "For you, madam," said Prigio in a stately way to Lady Molinda, "in less than a week I trust we shall be taking our vows at the same altar, and that the close of the ceremony which finds us cousins will leave us brother and sister."
And, besides the parley between Will and Harry, there comes a maiden simpering to Mr. Warrington's door, and Gumbo advances, holding something white and triangular in his ebon fingers. Harry knew what it was well enough. "Of course it's a letter," groans he. Molinda greets her Enrico, etc. etc. etc. No sleep has she known that night, and so forth, and so forth, and so forth.
Next morning they, and the ambassador, who had been told all the story, and Lady Rosalind, floated comfortably on the carpet back to Falkenstein, where the king wept like anything on the shoulders of Alphonso and Enrico. They could not make out why he cried so, nor why Lady Molinda and Lady Kathleena cried; but soon they were all laughing and happy again.
"Dear Molly," said the prince, who liked her, "how have I been so unfortunate as to offend you?" "My name, sir, is Lady Molinda," she said, very proudly; "and you have sent your own brother to his grave!" "Oh, excuse me," said the prince, "I am certain he has merely gone off on his travels.
He had brought the horns and tail, and so he must have the perquisites, and the Lady Molinda! The king's mind was so much confused by this time, that he determined to leave it to the Lady Molinda herself. "Which of them will you have, my dear?" he asked, in a kind voice. But poor Molinda merely cried.
I congratulate you, sir; Molinda is a dear girl." "I have the highest affection and esteem for my cousin, sir," said the prince, "but " "I'll never marry him!" cried poor Molinda, kneeling at the throne, where her streaming eyes and hair made a pretty and touching picture. "Never! I despise him!"
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