CHAPTER XVI.
_A Melancholy Chapter_.
The prince had gone some way, when the king called after him.

How he wished he had the seven-league boots on, or that he had the cap of darkness in his pocket! If he had been so lucky, he would now have got back to Gluckstein, and crossed the border with Lady Rosalind.

A million of money may not seem much, but a pair of young people who really love each other could live happily on less than the cheque he had in his pocket.

However, the king shouted very loud, as he always did when he meant to be obeyed, and the prince sauntered slowly back again.
"Prigio!" said his majesty, "where were you off to?
Don't you remember that this is your wedding-day?
My proclamation offered, not only the money (which you have), but the hand of the Lady Molinda, which the Court chaplain will presently make your own.

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.