FANTASTICAL ADVENTURES – L. Frank Baum Edition (Childhood Essentials Library). Лаймен Фрэнк Баум
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“You don’t seem so very unhappy now,” she said.
“But I am,” protested the King, fresh tears gathering in his eyes. “Even my jokes are miserable. I’m wretched, woeful, afflicted, distressed and dismal as an individual can be. Are you not sorry for me?”
“No,” answered Dorothy, honestly, “I can’t say I am. Seems to me that for a rabbit you’re right in clover. This is the prettiest little city I ever saw.”
“Oh, the city is good enough,” he admitted. “Glinda, the Good Sorceress, made it for us because she was fond of rabbits. I don’t mind the City so much, although I wouldn’t live here if I had my choice. It is being King that has absolutely ruined my happiness.”
“Why wouldn’t you live here by choice?” she asked.
“Because it is all unnatural, my dear. Rabbits are out of place in such luxury. When I was young I lived in a burrow in the forest. I was surrounded by enemies and often had to run for my life. It was hard getting enough to eat, at times, and when I found a bunch of clover I had to listen and look for danger while I ate it. Wolves prowled around the hole in which I lived and sometimes I didn’t dare stir out for days at a time. Oh, how happy and contented I was then! I was a real rabbit, as nature made me—wild and free!—and I even enjoyed listening to the startled throbbing of my own heart!”
“I’ve often thought,” said Dorothy, who was busily eating, “that it would be fun to be a rabbit.”
“It IS fun—when you’re the genuine article,” agreed his Majesty. “But look at me now! I live in a marble palace instead of a hole in the ground. I have all I want to eat, without the joy of hunting for it. Every day I must dress in fine clothes and wear that horrible crown till it makes my head ache. Rabbits come to me with all sorts of troubles, when my own troubles are the only ones I care about. When I walk out I can’t hop and run; I must strut on my rear legs and wear an ermine robe! And the soldiers salute me and the band plays and the other rabbits laugh and clap their paws and cry out: ‘Hail to the King!’ Now let me ask you, as a friend and a young lady of good judgment: isn’t all this pomp and foolishness enough to make a decent rabbit miserable?”
“Once,” said Dorothy, reflectively, “men were wild and unclothed and lived in caves and hunted for food as wild beasts do. But they got civ’lized, in time, and now they’d hate to go back to the old days.”
“That is an entirely different case,” replied the King. “None of you Humans were civilized in one lifetime. It came to you by degrees. But I have known the forest and the free life, and that is why I resent being civilized all at once, against my will, and being made a King with a crown and an ermine robe. Pah!”
“If you don’t like it, why don’t you resign?” she asked.
“Impossible!” wailed the Rabbit, wiping his eyes again with his handkerchief. “There’s a beastly law in this town that forbids it. When one is elected a King, there’s no getting out of it.”
“Who made the laws?” inquired Dorothy.
“The same Sorceress who made the town—Glinda the Good. She built the wall, and fixed up the City, and gave us several valuable enchantments, and made the laws. Then she invited all the pink-eyed white rabbits of the forest to come here, after which she left us to our fate.”
“What made you ‘cept the invitation, and come here?” asked the child.
“I didn’t know how dreadful city life was, and I’d no idea I would be elected King,” said he, sobbing bitterly. “And—and—now I’m It—with a capital I—and can’t escape!”
“I know Glinda,” remarked Dorothy, eating for dessert a dish of charlotte russe, “and when I see her again, I’ll ask her to put another King in your place.”
“Will you? Will you, indeed?” asked the King, joyfully.
“I will if you want me to,” she replied.
“Hurroo—huray!” shouted the King; and then he jumped up from the table and danced wildly about the room, waving his napkin like a flag and laughing with glee.
After a time he managed to control his delight and returned to the table.
“When are you likely to see Glinda?” he inquired.
“Oh, p’raps in a few days,” said Dorothy.
“And you won’t forget to ask her?”
“Of course not.”
“Princess,” said the Rabbit King, earnestly, “you have relieved me of a great unhappiness, and I am very grateful. Therefore I propose to entertain you, since you are my guest and I am the King, as a slight mark of my appreciation. Come with me to my reception hall.”
He then summoned Bristle and said to him: “Assemble all the nobility in the great reception hall, and also tell Blinkem that I want him immediately.”
The Keeper of the Wicket bowed and hurried away, and his Majesty turned to Dorothy and continued: “We’ll have time for a walk in the gardens before the people get here.”
The gardens were back of the palace and were filled with beautiful flowers and fragrant shrubs, with many shade and fruit trees and marble-paved walks running in every direction. As they entered this place Blinkem came running to the King, who gave him several orders in a low voice. Then his Majesty rejoined Dorothy and led her through the gardens, which she admired very much.
“What lovely clothes your Majesty wears!” she said, glancing at the rich blue satin costume, embroidered, with pearls in which the King was dressed.
“Yes,” he returned, with an air of pride, “this is one of my favorite suits; but I have a good many that are even more elaborate. We have excellent tailors in Bunnybury, and Glinda supplies all the material. By the way, you might ask the Sorceress, when you see her, to permit me to keep my wardrobe.”
“But if you go back to the forest you will not need clothes,” she said.
“N—o!” he faltered; “that may be so. But I’ve dressed up so long that I’m used to it, and I don’t imagine I’d care to run around naked again. So perhaps the Good Glinda will let me keep the costumes.”
“I’ll ask her,” agreed Dorothy.
Then they left the gardens and went into a fine, big reception hall, where rich rugs were spread upon the tiled floors and the furniture was exquisitely carved and studded with jewels. The King’s chair was an especially pretty piece of furniture, being in the shape of a silver lily with one leaf bent over to form the seat. The silver was everywhere thickly encrusted with diamonds and the seat was upholstered in white satin.
“Oh, what a splendid chair!” cried Dorothy, clasping her hands admiringly.
“Isn’t it?” answered the King, proudly. “It is my favorite seat, and I think it especially becoming to my complexion. While I think of it, I wish you’d ask Glinda to let me keep this lily chair when I go away.”
“It wouldn’t look very well in a hole in the ground, would it?” she suggested.
“Maybe not; but I’m used to sitting in it and I’d like to take it with me,” he answered. “But here come the ladies and gentlemen of the court; so please sit beside me and be presented.”
21. How the King Changed His Mind
Just then a rabbit band of nearly fifty pieces marched in, playing upon golden instruments and dressed in neat uniforms. Following the band came the nobility of Bunnybury, all richly dressed and hopping along on their rear legs. Both the ladies and the gentlemen wore white gloves upon their paws, with their rings on the outside