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When the King heard him speak so boldly, he did not know what to think, and he felt half inclined to let them and their sister go without putting them to death; but his chief adviser, who was an arrant flatterer, dissuaded him from this, telling him that if he did not revenge the insult that had been put upon him, all the world would make fun of him, and look upon him as nothing better than a miserable little King worth a few coppers a day. The King thereupon swore that he would never forgive them, and ordered them to be brought to trial at once. This did not take long; the judges had only to look at the real Rosette's portrait and then at the Princess who had arrived, and, without hesitation, they ordered the prisoners' heads to be cut off as a punishment for having lied to the King, since they had promised him a beautiful Princess, and had only given him an ugly peasant girl. They repaired with great ceremony to the prison to read this sentence to them; but the prisoners declared that they had not lied, that their sister was a Princess, and more beautiful than the day; that there must be something under this which they did not understand, and they asked for a respite of seven days, as before that time had expired their innocence might have been established. The King of the Peacocks, who had worked himself up to a high pitch of anger, could with great difficulty be induced to accord them this grace, but at last he consented. Bob got up early in order to see the Canyon at sunrise the morning after Steve Whitney went away, but found that in comparison to the sunset it was tame. Yet so inspiring was it that he was glad he had taken the trouble. The panorama spread before his eyes was one of which no other country could boast. Bob had seen pictures of it, had read about it, and had been taught about it from his geography, but nothing that he had read or heard or learned had given him even a faint idea of the glory of the thing as it actually was, no matter what time of the day it was seen. “Well, I don’t know whether your uncle is well enough to see you today. I will find out.”.
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Vincent was to be interred, according to his own desire, in the church belonging to the convent of St Nicholas. One of the servants, after receiving some necessary orders concerning the funeral, ventured to inform the marquis of the appearance of the lights in the south tower. He mentioned the superstitious reports that prevailed amongst the household, and complained that the servants would not cross the courts after it was dark. 'And who is he that has commissioned you with this story?' said the marquis, in a tone of displeasure; 'are the weak and ridiculous fancies of women and servants to be obtruded upon my notice? Away—appear no more before me, till you have learned to speak what it is proper for me to hear.' Robert withdrew abashed, and it was some time before any person ventured to renew the subject with the marquis. “You’re with us—the Service, I mean—aren’t you?” finished Bob seriously. “Even if it means going against what your father thinks is best?” The story which the marquis formerly related to his son, concerning the southern buildings, it was now evident was fabricated for the purpose of concealing the imprisonment of the marchioness. In the choice of his subject, he certainly discovered some art; for the circumstance related was calculated, by impressing terror, to prevent farther enquiry into the recesses of these buildings. It served, also, to explain, by supernatural evidence, the cause of those sounds, and of that appearance which had been there observed, but which were, in reality, occasioned only by the marquis. Absolute silence again. If only the cuckoo in the clock would come out and call! But it would be almost a quarter of an hour before that would happen. Johnny Blossom racked his brain to think of something to talk about..
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