The Dragonfly Pool

“I think I would like to learn a really martial piece of music for my return to Bergania. Something that makes my subjects realize that I have come back not just as a figurehead but to take the reins of state into my hands. I don’t know what key it should be in, but I feel there would be a lot of tubas and trombones. And a separate piece for Carlotta—a kind of theme tune for her when she alights from her carriage. I think she might have her own anthem.”

“Ah yes, dear Carlotta,” said her father. “I was not sure if . . .”

“Yes, yes, I know. I’m ashamed to say that I was quite confused when I first came . . . my father’s death . . .” he paused, and Uncle Franz Heinrich patted his shoulder.

“Of course, my boy. I quite understand; it takes time after such a blow to find one’s true path again.”

Don Alfonso, too, was very sympathetic when Karil explained his change of heart—and produced sketches for a uniform which he thought might be suitable for Karil’s household guards and one for Karil himself to wear on state occasions.

“You said you did not like plumes, I think?” he inquired, but Karil said he now realized that plumes were necessary to add to a monarch’s dignity—and Alfonso went off happily with his sketch pad to see what he could do.

After a few days the Scold came to Karil and told him how pleased she was to notice the change in him.

“The way you helped Carlotta when we were getting ready to go for our walk and made sure she had her gloves . . . Sometimes I have felt that you would never come to your senses and see where your destiny lies, but now at last I feel I shall have my reward for all the work I have done.”

Gradually, as Christmas approached, Karil’s position in the household changed. The uncles did not only lift their behinds when he came into the dining room, they stood up for him. The servants no longer dared to smile at him, and the governesses curtsied as he passed. Karil had become more than dignified; he had become kingly.

But it was Pom-Pom who set the seal on Karil’s new status. His ancestors had always known which of the great khan’s companions were worthy of their attentions. There came an evening when Karil was reading aloud from the Almanach de Gotha, that historic volume which gives the titles and descendants of all the royal houses of Europe. The fire had gone out, the uncles and their wives sat dozing in the cold, when Pom-Pom rose from the hearth rug, stretched, and looked about him. Then slowly he wheezed his way across the room, stood for a moment deep in thought—and flopped down onto the frozen feet of the prince of Bergania.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Christmas

The staff had been worried about Tally being sad—but Tally not being sad was almost worse.

As soon as Clemmy returned from Rottingdene House Matteo called Tally into his room and told her what Clemmy had discovered there.

“So you see how far he was from forgetting you.”

Tally stared at him. Her face crumpled up and for a moment it looked as though she was going to cry. “Really?” she said. “You’re not making it up?”

“I’m not making it up,” said Matteo, and he asked Clemmy to come and describe her visit to Rottingdene House.

“So we have to bring him here at once,” said Tally, when she heard what Clemmy had to say.

This was what Matteo had been afraid of.

“Look, Tally, if you do anything rash you could get Karil into serious trouble.”

And later in the day he called in all the children who had been to Bergania and told them the same thing.

He might have spared his breath. Tally was transformed. The worms of Delderton looked in vain for new houses and the book of Important Sayings stayed closed, as she surged through the school getting ready for her friend.

Daley was sitting at his desk, sighing over the file labeled EVACUATION. He had got as far as writing letters to all the parents asking them whether they would send their children to America with the school. They were piled up on top of his filing cabinet, ready to go to the post.

A knock on the door made him close the file and call, “Come in.”

Tally entered and the headmaster smiled; the change in the girl since Clemmy had returned from London was amazing.

“Can I speak to you?”

“Of course.”

Tally came up to his desk. “It’s about Karil.”

Daley, who had heard all about the prince from Matteo, said, “What about Karil?”

“You have to give him a scholarship. Please. He has to come here. He can’t stay in that awful place.”

“Perhaps you’d better sit down,” said the head. And then: “Scholarships don’t grow on trees, you know. I would have to consult the board.”

“You would give him a scholarship if he was a refugee from Poland or from Spain and he’d been bombed. Well, he is a refugee—just as much as them.”

The headmaster was silent, wondering just how much to tell her.