On the second day (it is my belief she would have gone into a
consumption and died of languor, if the event had been delayed a day
longer,) a messenger, with a trumpet, brought a letter in haste to the
Prince of Cleves, who was, as usual, taking refreshment. "To the High
and Mighty Prince," &c. the letter ran. "The Champion who had the honor
of engaging on Wednesday last with his late Excellency the Rowski of
Donnerblitz, presents his compliments to H. S. H. the Prince of Cleves.
Through the medium of the public prints the C. has been made acquainted
with the flattering proposal of His Serene Highness relative to a union
between himself (the Champion) and her Serene Highness the Princess
Helen of Cleves. The Champion accepts with pleasure that polite
invitation, and will have the honor of waiting upon the Prince and
Princess of Cleves about half an hour after the receipt of this letter."
"Tol lol de rol, girl," shouted the Prince with heartfelt joy. (Have you
not remarked, dear friend, how often in novel-books, and on the stage,
joy is announced by the above burst of insensate monosyllables?) "Tol
lol de rol. Don thy best kirtle, child; thy husband will be here anon."
And Helen retired to arrange her toilet for this awful event in the life
of a young woman.
Pages:
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428