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The White Slipper
by
One day, when the king was lying on his bed racked with pain, he heard the noise of a scuffle going on in his antechamber, and rang a golden bell that stood by his side to summon one of his servants.
‘Sire,’ answered the attendant, when the king inquired what was the matter, ‘the noise you heard was caused by a young man from the town, who has had the impudence to come here to ask if he may measure your majesty’s foot, so as to make you another slipper in place of the lost one.’
‘And what have you done to the youth?’ said the king.
‘The servants pushed him out of the palace, and, added a few blows to teach him not to be insolent,’ replied the man.
‘Then they did very ill,’ answered the king, with a frown. ‘He came here from kindness, and there was no reason to maltreat him.’
‘Oh, my lord, he had the audacity to wish to touch your majesty’s sacred person–he, a good-for-nothing boy, a mere shoemaker’s apprentice, perhaps! And even if he could make shoes to perfection they would be no use without the soothing balsam.’
The king remained silent for a few moments, then he said:
‘Never mind. Go and fetch the youth and bring him to me. I would gladly try any remedy that may relieve my pain.’
So, soon afterwards, the youth, who had not gone far from the palace, was caught and ushered into the king’s presence.
He was tall and handsome and, though he professed to make shoes, his manners were good and modest, and he bowed low as he begged the king not only to allow him to take the measure of his foot, but also to suffer him to place a healing plaster over the wound.
Balancin was pleased with the young man’s voice and appearance, and thought that he looked as if he knew what he was doing. So he stretched out his bad foot which the youth examined with great attention, and then gently laid on the plaster.
Very shortly the ointment began to soothe the sharp pain, and the king, whose confidence increased every moment, begged the young man to tell him his name.
‘I have no parents; they died when I was six, sire,’ replied the youth, modestly. ‘Everyone in the town calls me Gilguerillo (1), because, when I was little, I went singing through the world in spite of my misfortunes. Luckily for me I was born to be happy.’
(1) Linnet.
‘And you really think you can cure me?’ asked the king.
‘Completely, my lord,’ answered Gilguerillo.
‘And how long do you think it will take?’
‘It is not an easy task; but I will try to finish it in a fortnight,’ replied the youth.
A fortnight seemed to the king a long time to make one slipper. But he only said:
‘Do you need anything to help you?’
‘Only a good horse, if your majesty will be kind enough to give me one,’ answered Gilguerillo. And the reply was so unexpected that the courtiers could hardly restrain their smiles, while the king stared silently.
‘You shall have the horse,’ he said at last, ‘and I shall expect you back in a fortnight. If you fulfil your promise you know your reward; if not, I will have you flogged for your impudence.’
Gilguerillo bowed, and turned to leave the palace, followed by the jeers and scoffs of everyone he met. But he paid no heed, for he had got what he wanted.
He waited in front of the gates till a magnificent horse was led up to him, and vaulting into the saddle with an ease which rather surprised the attendant, rode quickly out of the town amidst the jests of the assembled crowd, who had heard of his audacious proposal. And while he is on his way let us pause for a moment and tell who he is.
Both father and mother had died before the boy was six years old; and he had lived for many years with his uncle, whose life had been passed in the study of chemistry. He could leave no money to his nephew, as he had a son of his own; but he taught him all he knew, and at his dead Gilguerillo entered an office, where he worked for many hours daily. In his spare time, instead of playing with the other boys, he passed hours poring over books, and because he was timid and liked to be alone he was held by everyone to be a little mad. Therefore, when it became known that he had promised to cure the king’s foot, and had ridden away–no one knew where–a roar of laughter and mockery rang through the town, and jeers and scoffing words were sent after him.