The Complete Sylvie and Bruno Stories With Their Original Illustrations. Lewis Carroll

you know. It’s part of the—’

      ‘Oh, don’t talk of Conspiracies!’ her husband savagely interrupted, as he tossed the dagger into the cupboard. ‘You know about as much how to manage a Conspiracy as if you were a chicken. Why, the first thing is to get a disguise. Now, just look at this!’

      And with pardonable pride he fitted on the cap and bells, and the rest of the Fool’s dress, and winked at her, and put his tongue in his cheek. ‘Is that the sort of thing, now?’ he demanded.

      My Lady’s eyes flashed with all a Conspirator’s enthusiasm. ‘The very thing!’ she exclaimed, clapping her hands. ‘You do look, oh, such a perfect Fool!’

      The Fool smiled a doubtful smile. He was not quite clear whether it was a compliment or not, to express it so plainly. ‘You mean a Jester? Yes, that’s what I intended. And what do you think your disguise is to be?’ And he proceeded to unfold the parcel, the lady watching him in rapture.

      ‘Oh, how lovely!’ she cried, when at last the dress was unfolded. ‘What a splendid disguise! An Esquimaux peasant-woman!’

      ‘An Esquimaux peasant, indeed!’ growled the other. ‘Here, put it on, and look at yourself in the glass. Why, it’s a Bear, ca’n’t you use your eyes?’ He checked himself suddenly, as a harsh voice yelled through the room

      ‘He looked again, and found it was

      A Bear without a Head!’

      But it was only the Gardener, singing under the open window. The Vice-Warden stole on tip-toe to the window, and closed it noiselessly, before he ventured to go on. ‘Yes, Lovey, a Bear: but not without a head, I hope! You’re the Bear, and me the Keeper. And if any one knows us, they’ll have sharp eyes, that’s all!’

      ‘I shall have to practise the steps a bit,’ my Lady said, looking out through the Bear’s mouth: ‘one ca’n’t help being rather human just at first, you know. And of course you’ll say “Come up, Bruin!,” wo’n’t you?’

      ‘Yes, of course,’ replied the Keeper, laying hold of the chain, that hung from the Bear’s collar, with one hand, while with the other he cracked a little whip. ‘Now go round the room in a sort of a dancing attitude. Very good, my dear, very good. Come up, Bruin! Come up, I say!’

      He roared out the last words for the benefit of Uggug, who had just come into the room, and was now standing, with his hands spread out, and eyes and mouth wide open, the very picture of stupid amazement. ‘Oh, my!’ was all he could gasp out.

      The Keeper pretended to be adjusting the bear’s collar, which gave him an opportunity of whispering, unheard by Uggug, ‘my fault, I’m afraid! Quite forgot to fasten the door. Plot’s ruined if he finds it out! Keep it up a minute or two longer. Be savage!’ Then, while seeming to pull it back with all his strength, he let it advance upon the scared boy: my Lady, with admirable presence of mind, kept up what she no doubt intended for a savage growl, though it was more like the purring of a cat: and Uggug backed out of the room with such haste that he tripped over the mat, and was heard to fall heavily outside—an accident to which even his doting mother paid no heed, in the excitement of the moment.

      The Vice-Warden shut and bolted the door. ‘Off with the disguises!’ he panted. ‘There’s not a moment to lose. He’s sure to fetch the Professor, and we couldn’t take him in, you know!’ And in another minute the disguises were stowed away in the cupboard, the door unbolted, and the two Conspirators seated lovingly side-by-side on the sofa, earnestly discussing a book the Vice-Warden had hastily snatched off the table, which proved to be the City-Directory of the capital of Outland.

      The door opened, very slowly and cautiously, and the Professor peeped in, Uggug’s stupid face being just visible behind him.

      ‘It is a beautiful arrangement!’ the Vice-Warden was saying with enthusiasm. ‘You see, my precious one, that there are fifteen houses in Green Street, before you turn into West Street.’

      ‘Fifteen houses! Is it possible?’ my Lady replied. ‘I thought it was fourteen!’ And, so intent were they on this interesting question, that neither of them even looked up till the Professor, leading Uggug by the hand, stood close before them.

      My Lady was the first to notice their approach. ‘Why, here’s the Professor!’ she exclaimed in her blandest tones. ‘And my precious child too! Are lessons over?’

      ‘A strange thing has happened!’ the Professor began in a trembling tone. ‘His Exalted Fatness’ (this was one of Uggug’s many titles) ‘tells me he has just seen, in this very room, a Dancing-Bear and a Court-Jester!’

      The Vice-Warden and his wife shook with well-acted merriment.

      ‘Not in this room, darling!’ said the fond mother. ‘We’ve been sitting here this hour or more, reading—’ here she referred to the book lying on her lap, ‘—reading the—the City-Directory.’

      ‘Let me feel your pulse, my boy!’ said the anxious father. ‘Now put out your tongue. Ah, I thought so! He’s a little feverish, Professor, and has had a bad dream. Put him to bed at once, and give him a cooling draught.’

      ‘I ain’t been dreaming!’ his Exalted Fatness remonstrated, as the Professor led him away.

      ‘Bad grammar, Sir!’ his father remarked with some sternness. ‘Kindly attend to that little matter, Professor, as soon as you have corrected the feverishness. And, by the way, Professor!’ (The Professor left his distinguished pupil standing at the door, and meekly returned.) ‘There is a rumour afloat, that the people wish to elect an—in point of fact, an—you understand that I mean an—’

      ‘Not another Professor!’ the poor old man exclaimed in horror.

      ‘No! Certainly not!’ the Vice-Warden eagerly explained. ‘Merely an Emperor, you understand.’

      ‘An Emperor!’ cried the astonished Professor, holding his head between his hands, as if he expected it to come to pieces with the shock. ‘What will the Warden—’

      ‘Why, the Warden will most likely be the new Emperor!’ my Lady explained. ‘Where could we find a better? Unless, perhaps—’ she glanced at her husband.

      ‘Where indeed!’ the Professor fervently responded, quite failing to take the hint.

      The Vice-Warden resumed the thread of his discourse. ‘The reason I mentioned it, Professor, was to ask you to be so kind as to preside at the Election. You see it would make the thing respectable—no suspicion of anything underhand—’

      ‘I fear I ca’n’t, your Excellency!’ the old man faltered. ‘What will the Warden—’

      ‘True, true!’ the Vice-Warden interrupted. ‘Your position, as Court-Professor, makes it awkward, I admit. Well, well! Then the Election shall be held without you.’

      ‘Better so, than if it were held within me!’ the Professor murmured with a bewildered air, as if he hardly knew what he was saying. ‘Bed, I think your Highness said, and a cooling-draught?’ And he wandered dreamily back to where Uggug sulkily awaited him.

      I followed them out of the room, and down the passage, the Professor murmuring to himself, all the time, as a kind of aid to his feeble memory, ‘C, C, C; Couch, Cooling-Draught, Correct-Grammar,’ till, in turning a corner, he met Sylvie and Bruno, so suddenly that the startled Professor let go of his fat pupil, who instantly took to his heels.

Chapter 10

      The Other Professor