"In the ordinary way," he began, "I should arrange something for you with a dragon or what-not in it. The knowledge that some such ordeal lies before him often enables a suitor to discover, before it is too late, that what he thought was true love is not really the genuine emotion. In your case I feel that an ordeal of this sort is not necessary."

Coronel inclined his head gracefully.

"I do not doubt your valour, and from you therefore I ask a proof of your cunning. In these days cunning is perhaps the quality of all others demanded of a ruler. We had an excellent example of that," he went on carelessly, "in the war with Barodia that is just over, where the whole conflict was settled by a little idea which----"

"A very wonderful idea, your Majesty."

"Well, well," said Merriwig, looking very pleased. "It just happened to come off, that's all. But that is what I mean when I say that cunning may be of even more importance than valour. In order to win the hand of my daughter and half my kingdom, it will be necessary for you to show a cunning almost more than human."

He paused, and Coronel did his best in the interval to summon up a look of superhuman guile into his very frank and pleasant countenance.

"You will prove yourself worthy of what you ask me for," said Merriwig solemnly, "by persuading Prince Udo to return to Araby--alone."

Coronel gasped. The thing was so easy that it seemed almost a shame to accept it as the condition of his marriage. To persuade Udo to do what he was only longing to do, did not call for any superhuman qualities of any kind. For a moment he had an impulse to tell the King so, but he suppressed it. "After all," he thought, "if the King wants cunning, and if I make a great business of doing something absurdly easy, then he is getting it."

Merriwig, simple man, mistook his emotions.

"I see," he said, "that you are appalled by the difficulty of the ordeal in front of you. You may well be so. You have known his Royal Highness longer than I have, but even in our short acquaintance I have discovered that he takes a hint with extraordinary slowness. To bring it home to him with the right mixture of tact and insistence that Araby needs his immediate presence--alone--may well tax the most serpentine of minds."

"I can but try it," said the serpentine one simply.

The King jumped up and shook him warmly by the hand.

"You think you can do it?" he said excitedly.

"If Prince Udo does not start back to Araby to-morrow----"

"Alone," said Merriwig.

"Alone--then I shall have failed in my task."

"My dear," said the King to his daughter as she kissed him good-night that evening, "I believe you are going to marry a very wise young man."

"Of course I am, Father."

"I only hope you'll be as happy with him as I shall be with--as I was with your mother. Though how he's going to bring it off," he added to himself, "is more than I can think."

CHAPTER XXII

THE SEVENTEEN VOLUMES GO BACK AGAIN

King Merriwig of Eastern Euralia sat at breakfast on his castle walls.

He lifted the gold cover from the gold dish in front of him, selected a trout, and conveyed it carefully to his gold plate. When you have an aunt---- But I need not say that again.

King Coronel of Western Euralia sat at breakfast on _his_ castle walls. He lifted the gold cover from the gold dish in front of him, selected a trout, and conveyed it carefully to his gold plate. When your wife's father has an aunt----

Prince Udo of Araby sat at breakfast---- But one must draw the line somewhere. I refuse to follow Udo through any more meals. Indeed, I think there has been quite enough eating and drinking in this book already. Quite enough of everything in fact; but the time has nearly come to say good-bye.

Let us speed the Prince of Araby first. His departure from Euralia was sudden; five minutes' conversation with Coronel convinced him that there had been a mistake about Belvane's feelings for him, and that he could leave for Araby in perfect safety.

"You must come and see us again," said Merriwig heartily, as he shook him by the hand.

"Yes, do," said Hyacinth.

There are two ways of saying this sort of thing, and theirs was the second way. So was Udo's, when he answered that he would be delighted.

It was just a week later that the famous double wedding was celebrated in Euralia. As an occasion for speech-making by King Merriwig and largesse-throwing by Queen Belvane it demanded and (got) a whole chapter to itself in Roger's History. I have Roger on my side at last. The virtues he denied to the Countess he cannot but allow to the Queen.

Nor could Hyacinth resist her any longer. Belvane upon her palfrey, laughter in her eyes and roses in her cheeks, her lips slightly parted with eagerness as she flings her silver to the crowd, adorably conscious of her childishness and yet glorifying in it, could have no enemies that day.

"She is a dear," said Hyacinth to Coronel. "She will make a wonderful Queen."

"I know a Queen worth two of her," said Coronel.

"But you do admire her, don't you?"

"Not particularly."

"Oh, Coronel, you must," said Hyacinth, but she felt very happy all the same.

They rode off the next day to their kingdom. The Chancellor had had an exciting week; for seven successive evenings he had been extremely mysterious and reserved to his wife, but now his business was finished and King Merriwig reigned over Eastern Euralia and King Coronel over the West.

Let us just take a look at Belvane's diary before we move on to the last scene.

"_Thursday, September 15th_," it says. "_Became good._"

Now for the last scene.

King Merriwig sat in Belvane's garden. They had spent the morning revising their joint book of poetry for publication. The first set of verses was entirely Merriwig's own. It went like this:

_Bo, boll, bill, bole._ _Wo, woll, will, wole._

A note by the authors called attention to the fact that it could be begun from either end. The rest of the poems were mainly by Belvane, Merriwig's share in them consisting of a "Capital," or an "I like that," when they were read out to him; but an epic commonly attributed to Charlotte Patacake had crept in somehow.

"A person to see your Majesty," said a flunkey, appearing suddenly.

"What sort of person?" asked Merriwig.

"A sort of person, your Majesty."

"See him here, dear," said Belvane, as she got up. "I have things to do in the Palace."

She left him; and by and by the flunkey returned with the stranger.

He was a pleasant-looking person with a round clean-shaven face; something in the agricultural way, to judge from his clothes.