Chapter XI: The Golden Dog (2)

Suddenly, while the carriage still moved slowly outside the gates that clanged behind it, Gabriel started from his hiding-place and swiftly leaped to the step of the coach and looked straight into the young girl's eyes.

"Princess," he exclaimed breathlessly, "I know of a golden dog, and they will not let me"--but by this time the lady-in-waiting was screaming, and the guard, who recognized Gabriel, rushed forth from the gate and, seizing him roughly, jerked the boy from the step.

"Unhand him instantly!" exclaimed the princess, her eyes flashing, for the look Gabriel had given her had reached her heart. "Stop the horses!"

Instantly the coach came to a standstill.

"_I will not fail thee, nor forsake thee_," sounded in Gabriel's ears amid the roaring in his head, as he found himself free. He did not wait for further invitation, but jumped back to the coach.

"Stop screaming, Lady Gertrude!" exclaimed the princess.

"But the beggar's hands are on the satin, your highness!" exclaimed the lady-in-waiting, who had had a hard week and wished there was not a yellow dog in the world.

"Princess, hear me and you will be glad," declared Gabriel. "I beg for nothing but to be heard. I believe I know where your dog is and that he suffers."

No one could have seen and heard Gabriel as he said this, without believing him. Tears of excitement sprang to his gray eyes and a pang went through the heart of the princess. How many times she had wondered if her lost pet had found such love as she gave him!

She at once ordered the door of the coach to be opened and that Gabriel should enter.

"Your highness!" exclaimed Lady Gertrude, nearly fainting.

"You may leave us if you please," said the princess, with a little smile; but Lady Gertrude held her smelling-salts to her nose and remained in the coach, which the princess ordered to be driven through a secluded wood-road.

Gabriel, sitting beside her on the fine satin cushion, told his story, from the moment when he found the dingy, brown dog in the hands of the teasing boys, to the moment when the organ-grinder bore him away.

The hands of the princess were clasped tightly as she listened. "You called him Topaz," she said, when the boy had finished. "I called him Goldilocks. Ah, if it should be the same! If it should!"

"Surely there are not two dogs in the world so beautiful," said Gabriel.

"That is what I say to myself," responded the princess.

"Had he been less wonderful, your highness, he would be safe now, for I should have kept him. He loved me," said Gabriel simply.

"You are an honest boy," replied the princess gratefully, "and I will make you glad of it whether Topaz turns out to be Goldilocks or not. But you say he danced with so much grace?"

"Yes, your highness, and tossed his head for glee till his curls waved merrily."

"'Tis the same!" cried the princess, in a transport. "His eyes _are_ like topazes. Your name is the best. He shall have it. Ah, he has slept in a shed and eaten cold scraps! My Goldilocks!"

"Yes, your highness, and would be glad to do so still; for he fears his dark-browed master, and dances with such trembling you would not know him again."

"Ah, cruel boy, cease! Take me to him at once. Show my men the spot where you left him."

"Your highness must use great care, for if once the organ-grinder suspects that you are searching for him, no one will ever again see the golden dog; for the man will fear to be found with him."

"You are right. I can send out men with orders to examine every hand-organ in the city."

"If they were quiet enough it might be done, but I have a better plan."

"You may speak," returned the princess.

"When we are alone, your highness," said Gabriel; and the lady-in-waiting was so amazed at such effrontery that she forgot to use her salts.

"To the palace," ordered the princess.

Lady Gertrude gave the order.

"Does your highness intend to take this--this person to the palace?" she inquired.

"I do. He loves my dog, and therefore I would give more for his advice at this time than for that of the Lord High Chamberlain."

"Then I have nothing more to say," returned the Lady Gertrude, leaning back among the cushions; and this was cheering news to her companions.

What was the astonishment of the guard to see the coach return, still carrying the rustic lad, who sat so composedly beside the princess, and dismounted with her at the palace steps.

Once within, nothing was too fine for Gabriel. A gentleman-in-waiting was set to serve him in an apartment, which made the boy pinch himself to make sure he was not dreaming.

When he had taken a perfumed bath and obediently put on the fine clothing that was provided for him, he was summoned to a splendid room where the princess awaited him, surrounded by her ladies. She was scarcely more than a child, herself, and the boy wondered how she liked to have so many critical personages about, to watch her every action.

As he entered the room, every eye was turned upon him, and the Lady Gertrude, especially, put up her glass in wonder that this handsome lad with the serious, fearless eyes, who seemed so at ease in the silks and satins he now wore, could be the peasant who had jumped on the step of the coach.

The princess looked upon him with favor and smiled. "We are ready now," she said, "to hear what plan you propose for the rescue of the golden dog."

"Then will your highness kindly ask these ladies to leave us?" returned Gabriel.

"Ah, to be sure. I forgot your wish that the communication should be private."

Then the princess gave orders that every one should leave the room, and her companions obeyed reluctantly, the Lady Gertrude above all. She remained close to the outside of the closed door, ready to fly within at the slightest cry from her mistress; for the Lady Gertrude could not quite believe that a boy who had ever worn a calico shirt was a safe person to leave alone with royalty.

For a few minutes there was only a low buzz of voices behind the closed door, then a merry laugh from the princess assailed Lady Gertrude's ears. It was the first time she had laughed since the disappearance of the golden dog.

Before Gabriel slipped between the sheets that night in his luxurious chamber, he took the little brown book which had been folded away with his shabby clothing. His heart glowed with gratitude to God for the help he had received that day, and when he opened the page it was as if a loving voice spoke:--

"_Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee; because he trusteth in thee_."

"Dear God, I trust in thee!" he murmured; then he climbed into the soft bed and slept dreamlessly.

The following morning, the king and queen having given consent to their daughter's request, two children drove out of the palace grounds in a plain black carriage. The coachman drove to a confectioner's near the centre of the town, where the horses stopped. A tall man in dark clothes, who was also in the carriage, stepped down first and handed out the girl, and afterward the boy jumped down. Then the carriage rolled away.

"Remember," said the girl, turning to the tall man, "you are not to remain too near us."

He bowed submissively, and in a minute more the girl and boy, plainly dressed, middle-class people, were looking in at the confectioner's window at a pink and white frosted castle that reared itself above a cake surrounded with bon-bons to make one's mouth water.

"Saw you ever anything so grand, your highness?" exclaimed Gabriel, in awe.

The princess laughed. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes sparkled. This was the first time her little feet had ever touched a city street, and she loved the adventure.

"Find me Topaz, and all the contents of this window shall be yours," she returned.

"I shall not care to have anything until we do find him, your highness," replied Gabriel simply.

"You must not call me that. Some one might hear you."

"I know it. There is danger of it," declared Gabriel; "but the gentleman who is to follow us said I should lose my head if I treated you familiarly."

The princess laughed again. She was in a new world, like a bird whose cage door had been opened.

"We need your head until we find Topaz," she replied, "for you have clever ideas. Nevertheless, my name is Louise, and you may remember it if necessity arises. Now where shall we go first?"

"Straight down this street," said the boy, leading the way. "I am expecting God will show us where to go," he added.

His companion looked at him in surprise, and Gabriel observed it. "Don't you know about God?" he asked.

"Of course. Who does not?" she returned briefly.

"I did not," answered Gabriel, "until I found the Book of Life. It speaks to me in words of flame. Have you such a book?"

"No. I will buy it from you," said the princess.

"No one can do that," declared the boy, "for it is more precious than all beside. This morning I looked into it for guidance through the day, and the glowing words were sweet:--

"'_For He shall give his angels charge over thee to keep thee in all thy ways_.'"

Gabriel smiled at the princess with such gladness that she gazed at him curiously.

"You cannot refuse to sell me your book," she said at last, "for I can have your head taken off if I wish. I am the king's daughter."

"God is greater than all kings," returned Gabriel, "and He would not allow it. He helped me to get your attention yesterday, and to-day He is sending his angels with us to find Topaz. The Book of Life is for every one, I believe. I am sure you can have one, too."

Here both the boy and girl started, for there came a metallic sound of music on the air. "Be cautious, be very cautious," warned Gabriel, and as the princess started to run, he caught her by the arm, a proceeding which horrified the tall man in dark clothes who was at some distance back, but had never taken his eyes from them. "You must not be too interested," added the boy, as excited as she. "A hand-organ is an every-day affair. We even hear them in the country at times."

But they both followed the sound, veiling their eagerness as best they might. When they came in sight of the organ-grinder they both sighed, for he had no assistance from a little dog nor from any one else.

The princess was for turning away impatiently.

"Wait," said Gabriel, "we are interested in organ music." So he persuaded her to stand a minute, while her bright eyes roved in all directions; and the organ man saw a hope of coppers in the pair, for they were decently dressed and lingered in apparent pleasure. He kept his eyes upon them and at last held out his cap.

The princess had plenty of pence in the bag at her side, placed there by the thoughtful Gabriel in place of the handful of silver with which she had intended to reward street musicians.

"You are one of the common people, your highness; or else you need have no hope of Topaz," he had reminded her; so now the impatient girl tossed some coppers into the outstretched cap and hurried along as if they were wasting time.

The next organ they found had, sitting upon it, a monkey dressed in red cap and jacket, and Gabriel insisted on waiting to watch him, although the sight of his antics only swelled the princess's heart as she thought that somewhere Topaz was being forced to such indignity.

The little monkey did not seem to object, and gladly ran to his master with the coppers that Gabriel dropped in his cap.

The next organ-grinder they found had with him a little Italian girl with a red silk handkerchief knotted about her head. She sang and played on a tambourine, and Gabriel persuaded his companion to watch and listen for a few minutes.

If only they could find Topaz first, her royal highness, princess of the country, would ask nothing better than to roam freely about the streets, listening and gazing like any other young girl out for a holiday; but Topaz was on her mind, and she was not accustomed to being forced to wait.

"Listen to me," murmured Gabriel, as they moved on after making the little Italian show her white teeth in pleasure at their gift. "Do not frown. You must look pleased. It is the only way."

So the princess put a restraint upon herself. With the next organ they met, she saw a yellow dog who wore a cap fastened under his chin, and sat up holding a cup in his teeth for pennies, and she set her lips in the effort to control herself. The dog had long ears and white paws. Gabriel's own heart beat in his throat, but he grasped the woolen stuff of his companion's gown as the man began to play. It was not the man of yesterday, but that mattered not to Gabriel. They waited till the tune was finished, the gaze of the princess devouring the dog meanwhile. Then the little creature trotted up to them very prettily on his hind legs, offering his cup, and the children dropped into it coppers while they looked into the yellow eyes.

"Hi--Oh--Hi--Oh"--and another tune broke into the one which their organ-grinder commenced. Following the sound of the call, Gabriel and the princess looked a little way off, across the street, and beheld a street musician grinding away and beckoning to them with his head, while his teeth gleamed in an attractive smile.

"Pay no attention to him," said the man with the yellow dog, grinding lustily, and making a frightful discord. "'Tis Pedro and his little brown beast. He seeks to draw my listeners away as if I had not the most intelligent dog in the universe, and, moreover, of the color which the princess has made fashionable. I doubt not if her highness saw my dog she would give me for him as many gold eagles as I have fingers on my hand; but he is not for the princess, who has joys enough without depriving the children on the street of their pleasures."

The girl in the brown woolen gown was clasping her hands painfully together, and her heart was beating with hope; but Gabriel shook his head at her, and she remained quiet. He had already seen that the dog was not Topaz, although astonishingly like him in size and shape.

Pedro, across the street, kept drawing nearer, as he played and smiled and beckoned with his head. There trotted after him an unpromising little brown dog with limp tail and ears. The man, in his good-nature and success, looked very different from the organ-grinder of yesterday; and as he laughed aloud, the master of the yellow dog frowned and shouted something in Italian back at him, before shouldering his organ and tramping away, his dog very glad to go on all fours again.

Pedro pulled off his hat, smiling at the lingering girl and boy. "He says you have given him all your coppers," he said. "I don't believe it; but in any case I will give you a tune."

"You are letting him go," murmured the princess breathlessly, starting to run after the yellow dog.

"Saw you not 'twas not Topaz?" asked Gabriel, under cover of the lively tune, and again seizing a fold of the woolen gown, he held the girl in her place. "Wait," he said aloud, with a show of interest, "I wish to hear the music."

"Let me go, my heart is sick," returned the princess, turning her head away.

Gabriel pretended to frown at her and pulled some pence from his pocket, at sight of which the organ-grinder's eyes brightened and he played harder than ever.

"Can you be strong, princess?" asked the boy distinctly. "Don't look now, but Topaz has come to us."

The princess started, and instead of obeying, looked closely first at the dejected little brown dog and then up and down the street and behind her, but in vain.

"If those pence are for me, my boy," said the organ-grinder, stopping his music, "you and your sister shall see my dog dance. He is the wonder of the world, although he is not much to look at. We cannot all be royal and own golden dogs."

Gabriel threw him the pennies, for he did not yet wish to come too near Topaz, lest the little dog might see deeper than the respectable raiment in which his own brother would not have known him.

The boy clapped his hands above his head; the organ-grinder thought it was for joy, but it was a signal agreed upon. A shrill whistle sounded on the air. The organ-grinder knew the sound and knew that it was intended to summon the officers of the law. He wondered what poor wretch was getting into trouble; but it was none of his business. He took a whip from within his coat, and with it struck the organ a violent snap.

At the sound the little dog jumped. The princess noticed that Gabriel's eyes were fixed on him, and wondered what he could be thinking of to confound this sorry-looking, dull-colored animal with her gay companion of the palace garden.

The music began, the dog reared himself patiently upon his hind feet and stepped about so slowly that the organ-man growled at him and struck the organ again. Then the dancer moved faster; but the ears did not fly and every motion was a jerk. Nevertheless, the princess's heart had now begun to suffocate her. She recalled Gabriel's story of washing off the brown color from the dingy fur in the brook, and her eyes swam with tears at the mere possibility that this might be the object of her search. She had just sense enough to keep still and leave everything to Gabriel. Here, too, approached the tall gentleman, followed by an officer of the law. Gabriel saw at a glance that it was the same big fellow who had driven him away yesterday.

The tall, dignified gentleman-in-waiting looked in disgust at the stiff little brown dancer.

"This foolish peasant is but getting us into trouble," he thought, "but he will suffer for it."

Indeed, Gabriel knew the law of the land; knew that if he accused the organ-grinder wrongfully he would be walked off to prison in his place; but Gabriel had seen the brown dog's eyes. There were no doubts in his heart, which bounded so that it seemed as if it could hardly stay within his bosom.

"Come away, your highness," murmured the gentleman-in-waiting, in the princess's ear. "This is a farce."

"Stand back and wait," she replied sternly, and he obeyed.

Meanwhile the organ-grinder had observed the newcomers and was showing every tooth in his head at the prospect of a rich harvest of coppers. In a minute he ceased playing. The brown dog dropped to all fours, and his hopeless air sent a pang through the princess.

The organ-grinder held out his cap.

"I don't think much of your dog's dancing," said Gabriel, looking him in the eye. "I could make him do better, myself."

"It doesn't do to use the whip too much," replied the organ-grinder, but Gabriel had already gone on his knees beside the dog and whispered to him. Instantly the little creature went into a transport of delight. Bounding to the boy's breast, it clung there so closely that Gabriel gave up the experiment that he had intended of trying to show the organ-man how his slave could dance.

Rising, Gabriel held the panting Topaz in his arms. "I declare," he said aloud, "I declare this to be the princess's lost dog."

The organ-grinder scowled and grew pale. "'Tis a lie," he cried, "hers was a golden dog."

"This is a golden dog," said Gabriel.

Even the gentleman-in-waiting was impressed by the certainty of the boy's voice. The organ-grinder turned to the officer and shook his fist. "'Tis that boy again!" he cried. "If this is the princess's dog, that boy stole him. As for me, I found the poor creature, friendless and lost, and I took pity on him."

"Why, then, did you stain his coat?" asked Gabriel.

The organ-grinder looked wildly up and down the street. For some reason he felt that a silver coin would not affect the officer of the law to-day.

The gentleman-in-waiting pointed sternly at the culprit. "Take him away," he said to the officer. "Should this prove to be indeed the princess's dog, he has committed treason."

And now the black carriage and spirited horses drove up. The three entered it with the dog and were whirled away.

By noon it was rumored in that street that her royal highness, the princess of the land, had walked through it, dressed like one of the common people.

Within the carriage the princess was weeping tears of joy above her pet.

"If it is you, Goldilocks, if it is you!" she kept repeating; but the dog clung to the one who had recognized his topaz eyes in spite of everything.

"He is not fit, yet, for your highness to touch," said Gabriel, "but if you will give me one hour, I will show him to you unchanged."

That afternoon there was rejoicing at the palace. All had felt the influence of the princess's grief, for she was the idol of the king and queen; and now, as Topaz capered again, a living sunbeam, through corridor and garden, all had a word of praise for the peasant boy who had restored him to his home.

At evening the princess received a message from Gabriel and ordered that he be sent to her.

In a minute he entered, dressed in the shabby garments in which he had leaped upon the coach step. In his hand he held a little rusty book, and his clear eyes looked steadily at the princess, with the honest light which had first made her listen to him.

"I come to say farewell, your highness," he said.

A line showed in her forehead. "What reward have they given you?"

"None, your highness."

"What have you in your hand?"

"The Book of Life."

"Come nearer and let me see it."

The ladies-in-waiting were, as usual, grouped near their mistress, and they stared curiously at the peasant boy.

Only Topaz, who at his entrance had bounded from a satin cushion as golden as his flossy coat, leaped upon him with every sign of affection.

Gabriel approached and handed the book to the princess.

She opened it and ran her eye over the gray pages. "I see no fiery letters," she said, and handed it back. The boy opened it. As usual a flaming verse arrested his eye. He pointed with his finger at the words and read aloud:--

"'_He shall call upon me and I will answer him: I will be with him in trouble: I will deliver him and honor him_.'"

"'Tis a fair promise," said the princess, "but I see no flaming letters."

"I do, your highness," returned Gabriel simply, and looking into his eyes she knew that he spoke the truth.

She gazed at him curiously. "Where go you now, and what do you do?" she asked, after a pause.

"That I know not," replied Gabriel, "but God will show me."

"By means of that book?"

"Yes, your highness," and Gabriel bowed his head and moved toward the door. Topaz followed close at his heel. If Gabriel were going for a walk, why, so much the better. He was going, too.

The boy smiled rather sadly, for he knew the golden dog loved him, and there was no one else anywhere who cared whether he went or came. He stooped and, picking up the little creature, carried him to the princess. "You will have to hold him from following me, your highness."

The girl took the dog, but he struggled and broke from her grasp, to leap once again upon his departing friend.

"Wait," said the princess, and rose. Gabriel stood, all attention, and gazed at her, where she stood, smiling kindly upon him. "I promised a full reward to whomever returned me my dog. You have not yet received even the window-full of pink and white sweetmeats which I promised you this morning."

Gabriel smiled, too.

"Where is your home, Gabriel, and why are you not returning there?"

"I have no home. It is a long story, your highness, and would not interest you."

"Ah, but it does interest me," and the princess smiled more brightly than ever; "because if you have no home you can remain in our service."

A light flashed into Gabriel's sober face. "What happiness!" he exclaimed.

No answer could have pleased the princess better than the pleasure in his eyes. "Topaz is not willing you should leave him, and neither am I. When you are older, his majesty, my father, will look after your fortunes. For the present you shall be a page."

"Your highness!" protested the Lady Gertrude, "have you considered? The pages are of lofty birth. Will it not go hard with the peasant? Give him a purse and let him go."

The princess answered but did not remove her gaze from the boy's flushed face, while Topaz's cold little nose nestled in his down-dropped hand.

"Gabriel is my friend, be he prince or peasant," she said slowly, "and it will go hard with those who love him not." The young girl's eyes met Gabriel's and then she smiled as light-heartedly as on this morning when she wore the woolen gown. "And now make Topaz dance," she added, "the way he danced in the woods."

The boy's happy glance dropped to the dog, and he raised his finger. With alacrity Topaz sat up, and then Gabriel began to whistle.

How the court ladies murmured with soft laughter, for no one had ever seen such a pretty sight. Not for any of them, not for the princess herself, had Topaz danced as he danced to-day.

"Ah," murmured the princess, "how much more powerful than the whip is love!"

When music and dancing had ceased, she smiled once more upon Gabriel, whose happy heart was full.

"Go now," she said, "and learn of your new duties; but the chief one you have learned already. It is to be faithful!"