The barber was honoured with a perfumed bath ere he retired to rest, which caused him to sleep soundly until daylight began to peep through the windows of his chamber. His slumbers would have been prolonged had it not been for a feeling of sudden pain across the bridge of his nose. He awoke hastily, and beheld the form of a very ancient dame standing by his bedside. That puppet, known as the spouse of Mr. Punch, was the only creature that our hero could liken her to, as she bent her thin profile over him and held up her skinny hand in token of silence and attention. Fixing her keen eyes upon Tom, she chanted, rather than spoke, the following incantation:—
“Draw a circle round the beast
When he sleeps in peaceful rest;
If strong thy arm and keen thy blade
So thy task is easy made.
Shave the monster, head and toe,
Round him fold this robe of snow;
Then lead him forth towards the Throne.
Fe-fi-fum, my charm is done.”
Ere the last words were well out of her mouth the old dame vanished like a puff of smoke—when or how Tom Brock had no idea whatever. He rubbed his eyes, and was under the impression that the whole thing was an illusion, until his glance rested upon a square white wrapper lying at the foot of the bed. He sprang up immediately, and found a soft cloak large enough to robe a giant. There was no fancy about that, at any rate. He dressed himself hastily, at the same time attempting to repeat the utterances of his strange visitor:—
“ ‘Draw a circle round the beast
When he sleeps in peaceful rest.’
Very good,” he muttered quickly; “there may be a charm in these words that I cannot conceive. I have a very dangerous task before me, and I’ll try it. Luckily this is just the time of day to catch Mr. Gorilla asleep. What’s the next line?—
“ ‘If strong thy arm and keen thy blade
So thy task is easy made.’
Humph! I can answer for the razors. They’re sharp enough to cut the throat of my ugly customer, if he tries any of his tricks. Then:—
“ ‘Shave the monster, head and toe,
Round him fold this robe of snow.’
“All right so far. After which I’m to lead him into the reception-hall before Prince Picnic. Just so. Now to set about it.”
The barber prepared his razors and lather, and taking the white robe on his arm he went out along the broad corridor towards the garden. Within a small grass plot encircled by tall trees Tom discovered the Gorilla fast asleep. With noiseless footsteps our hero formed a wide ring round the sleeping monster with his fingers, and then stepped within the charmed circle and approached his subject. Strange to relate, the Gorilla never stirred—not even when Tom, with the taste of a genuine artist, began operations upon his capacious chin. Nature seemed hushed while the barber performed his business. Above, below, and around a deep stillness reigned, save for the scraping, grating sound of Tom Brock’s blade.
Meanwhile Prince Picnic held a grand council of state in the magnificent reception-hall of his palace. Previously an edict had gone forth which summoned the rank, beauty, and fashion of the land to witness the marriage of Lady Lollypop and Gorilla. And here they were assembled for the imposing event, which should unite the Beauty and the Beast.
Ah, me! Who shall attempt to describe the splendour of that gathering? The Ruler of Twilight was seated on a throne of pure gold, which had been oxidized to every shade of colour, and wrought in the most beautiful mosaic imaginable. At her father’s side reclined the Bi-ba-be-bi, receiving the homage of the young nobles and the long-bearded functionaries of state. The walls and ceiling of the throne chamber were entirely covered with wide sheets of burnished gold to reflect as mirrors. On each side of the dais there extended rank upon rank of high-born dames and courtiers robed in stuffs of silk and gold, embroidered with flowers so as to present the most perfect imitations of nature.
Soothingly soft, sweetly, lovingly soft, were the dulcet tones of the choir of fairy musicians, hidden from view—now ebbing, now flowing in tender gushes of melody. Down the sides of the lofty pillared hall a bright band of dancing fays, each as lovely as a child’s dream, advanced and retired, crossed and interlaced in a whirling maze of shifting light, which defeated the eye in following their quick and graceful evolutions. Amongst that fair galaxy of beauty, Bi-ba-be-bi stood out peerless in her loveliness. Round the soft cushions on which she reclined were gathered her four handmaids, See-Saw, Hide and Seek, Marjory Daw, and Down-Dilly.
Behind the throne stood Ride-a-cock-horse, the prime minister, Gaboon, the jester, and the high officials of the kingdom. At a sign from Baron Thimble the music ceased and the dancers dispersed. Then Prince Picnic rose, and said briefly,—
“People of Twilight, I have called you together to witness the marriage of our daughter, the Lady Lollypop. I am aware that this Court had decided that our dear and lamented nephew Prince Pippin should have been her husband; but the gallant youth perished three years ago on those self-same Leap Frog Mountains where I and my retinue were captured by Gorilla. The chief of Gorilla-land is now here to claim the bond I gave him for our release.”
A deep hush had fallen o’er the vast crowd as the Prince paused.
“Prince Pippin was a handsome youth and a gallant gentleman,” whispered See-Saw.
“True, and our lady loved him well,” replied Down-Dilly.
The daughter of Prince Picnic heard the whispering, and sighed audibly.
“Ay, but the young Prince is dead. Hush!”
“Dames and nobles,” continued His Highness mournfully, “we have given our sacred word that this monster shall marry Bi-ba-be-bi. Therefore we cannot depart from that pledge in the smallest particular. What, ho there! Let the bridegroom come forth and claim his bride.”
As the Ruler of Twilight uttered the words, every eye was directed towards the great folding doors at the farther end of the audience chamber, which were instantly drawn apart, and Tom Brock entered, leading the tall figure of his patient, muffled from head to feet in the white cloak.
Poor Lady Lollypop uttered a stifled shriek of fear as her gaze fell upon the muffled form of her intended lord and master.
The barber advanced with his companion to the foot of the throne, and there halted for a moment, then retired behind the throng of courtiers, leaving the closely covered monster standing alone.
“Art thou still resolved to have the Pearl of Twilight for thy wife?” asked Ride-a-cock-horse in a loud voice.
The mantled figure trembled visibly, but held his peace.
“Let the chief of Gorilla-land show himself, if he is not afraid,” cried Gaboon, advancing from out of the ring of nobles by which he was surrounded. Swifter than the electrical fire athwart a thunder-cloud the folding mantle vanished from that form, and revealed—not the hateful beast, but a tall, handsome young man, robed in a superb hunting costume of the country. The gaze of Bi-ba-be-bi had no sooner rested upon him than she sprang from the midst of her ladies with a glad cry of recognition, and cast herself upon his bosom. “Prince Pippin! Cousin! My own dear love, you are not dead!”
“A TALL, HANDSOME YOUNG MAN, ROBED IN A SUPERB HUNTING COSTUME.”
Dead, not at all. Twilight is a region of enchantment, dear readers. Dame Trot, the witch of the Leap Frog Ranges, had fallen across the young Prince while hunting in the mountains, and had changed him into a Gorilla. Such he had remained and had taken his uncle prisoner. When the news, however, of the marriage between Lady Lollypop and the supposed monster reached the old magician she relented of her wickedness by appearing at the bedside of the barber and speaking the words which annulled the charm.
There was great rejoicing at the court of Prince Picnic over the event; but the gladness and the display were increased a hundredfold when the cousins were married.
Tom Brock, loaded with substantial presents, returned home to his wife and family, and brought a piece of the wedding-cake for the former, which quite dissipated any lurking jealousy there might have been in her mind respecting his absence.
The little corner shop knows our friend the barber no more. His residence is now in the aristocratic suburb of Toorak—a magnificent mansion known as “Faydell,” and for which he may thank Bi-ba-be-bi and her royal husband Prince Pippin.