rom the gates of Bosforo, in
whom the porters, proctors, etc., never thought of recognising the young
Prince and his friends.

They got horses at a livery stable-keeper's, and never drew bridle
until they reached the last town on the frontier before you come to Crim
Tartary. Here, as their animals were tired, and the cavaliers hungry,
they stopped and refreshed at an hostel. I could make a chapter of this
if I were like some writers, but I like to cram my measure tight down,
you see, and give you a great deal for your money, and, in a word, they
had some bread and cheese and ale upstairs on the balcony of the inn.
As they were drinking, drums and trumpets sounded nearer and nearer,
the marketplace was filled with soldiers, and His Royal Highness looking
forth, recognised the Paflagonian banners, and the Paflagonian national
air which the bands were playing.

The troops all made for the tavern at once, and as they came up Giglio
exclaimed, on beholding their leader, 'Whom do I see? Yes! No! It is,
it is! Phoo! No, it can't be! Yes! It is my friend, my gallant faithful
veteran, Captain Hedzoff! Ho! Hedzoff! Knowest thou not thy Prince, thy
Giglio? Good Corporal, methinks we once were friends. Ha, Sergeant, an'
my memory serves me right, we have had many a bout at singlestick.'

'I' faith, we have, a many, good my Lord,' says the Sergeant.

'Tell me, what means this mighty armament,' continued His Royal Highness
from the balcony, 'and whither march my Paflagonians?'

Hedzoff's head fell. 'My Lord,' he said, 'we march as the allies of
great Padella, Crim Tartary's monarch.'

'Crim Tartary's usurper, gallant Hedzoff! Crim Tartary's grim tyrant,
honest Hedzoff!' said the Prince, on the balcony, quite sarcastically.

'A soldier, Prince, must needs obey his orders: mine are to help His
Majesty Padella. And also (though alack that I should say it!) to seize
wherever I should light upon him.'

'First catch your hare! ha, Hedzoff!' exclaimed His Royal Highness.

'--On the body of GIGLIO, whilome Prince of Paflagonia' Hedzoff went on,
with indescribable emotion. 'My Prince, give up your sword without ado.
Look! we are thirty thousand men to one!'

'Give up my sword! Giglio give up his sword!' cried the Prince; and
stepping well forward on to the balcony, the royal youth, WITHOUT
PREPARATION, delivered a speech so magnificent, that no report can do
justice to it. It was all in blank verse (in which, from this time, he
inv