The Adventures of King Midas. Lynne Banks Reid

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СКАЧАТЬ a bit more careful,” thought the King. “I can’t just go on doing everything the way I did before. Habit. Everything is habit… Well, I must break some habits, that’s all, it’s a small enough price to pay.”

      He tried to lift the golden statue, but soon realised it would be too heavy for Delia. The touch of it on his fingers gave him a sudden shiver, and he let go of it.

      He was feeling hungry as well as chilly; the sun was going down and it was time for supper. He thought about the lovely lamb chops and fruit and cake and red wine that he’d ordered for his meal, and after just touching another thing or two to cheer himself up again, he headed for the palace.

      “There’s nothing like an afternoon of turning things into gold for giving you an appetite!” he joked to himself, rubbing his magic hands together.

      He hurried to the palace dining-room. The first thing he saw as he walked in was a bowl of beautiful fruits on the table. There were apples and pears and peaches and plums, and even a few late figs. Midas licked his lips and imagined his teeth sinking into one of the figs and crunching on the seeds. Or would one of his hot-house peaches be nicer?

      Unable to make up his mind, he closed his eyes, picked up a piece of fruit, opened his mouth, and took a big bite.

      The next moment the King was shouting and roaring at the top of his voice like an angry lion.

      “Ow! Ow!” he bawled, dancing round the dining-room holding his mouth. “I’ve broken my teeth! I’ve cracked my jaw! OW!”

      A little serving maid came running into the room.

      “Your Majesty, whatever’s the matter?” she cried in alarm.

      “I turned an apple into gold and then hurt my front teeth trying to bite it!” roared the King.

      “Oh, surely not, Your Majesty!” said the little maid.

      “Are you calling me a liar?” shouted the King, red in the face from pain and rage. And he picked up a pear from the dish and threw it at her.

      Luckily it missed, but what it did hit was a large mirror hanging behind her, which it smashed into fragments.

      The King stopped roaring at once.

      “Seven years’ bad luck!” he exclaimed, but the little maid didn’t hear him.

      “Don’t hurt me, Your Majesty!” she cried, hiding her face and running out of the room in tears.

      The King stood looking at his broken mirror and almost wanted to cry himself.

      “I’ve frightened that poor child who only wanted to help me,” he thought remorsefully, “and I’ve broken my lovely mirror that’s been in the family for years. What a silly old man I am.”

      But feeling silly didn’t stop him from feeling hungry, so when a manservant came in to see what was the matter, he found the King sitting at the table (in a gold chair, which surprised the manservant who was certain all the chairs in the palace were made of wood) holding in his hands a gold knife and fork.

      “Who can have laid the table?” thought the servant. “The gold cutlery is only for state banquets!”

      Strangest of all, tucked stiffly into the King’s shirt front was a cloth-of-gold table-napkin.

      “Can I be of any assistance, Sire?” asked the servant, bowing low to hide the look of amazement on his face.

      “Yes you can,” said the King shortly. “I’m extremely hungry. But I am not able to put any food into my mouth, because everything I touch turns to gold. Even the wine in the goblets! So kindly feed me.”

      The servant straightened up.

      “You say everything Your Majesty touches turns to gold?”

      “You’re not deaf, are you?” said the King testily.

      “Are you sure Your Majesty feels quite well?”

      The King knew he was going to get angry again in a minute.

      “Of course I’m sure, you fool!” he snapped. “Watch this!”

      And he picked up a lamb chop from the plate in front of him.

      The manservant’s eyes nearly popped out of his head and he made swallowing noises.

      “What are you staring at, fellow?” asked the King. “Have you never seen a solid gold lamb chop before?”

      “N-no, Sire!” the poor man gasped.

      “Well, you have now! Come here at once and feed me! Or will you stand there and watch your monarch dwindle to skin and bone from lack of nourishment?”

      But the man didn’t move. At last he finished swallowing and croaked out in a shocked voice: “Forgive me, Sire, but I dare not feed you! You might – you might touch me by mistake, and then I should turn into gold, too!”

      “You can’t imagine I’d be such an idiot as to touch a living—” The King’s eyes fell on the little bird that lay beside his plate, and he stopped shouting suddenly. “H’mph. Harrumph. I promise to be careful.” As the man dithered at the far end of the table, the King raised his voice again and shouted: “I said I won’t touch you! See! I’m sitting on my hands! Now come here at once and do as you’re commanded! Do you think I can’t control myself?”

      When he still didn’t come, the King’s patience snapped. He snatched one hand out from under him and banged it on the table.

      The gold started from where the King was sitting and went shooting down the length of the long table to the end where the servant stood. He gave a yell, jumped back three feet, knocked into the mantelpiece and tipped a vase full of flowers and cold water over his head.

      This broke the poor man’s nerve completely.

      “Help! Help!” he spluttered, waving his arms. “The King’s bewitched!” And he ran wildly from the room.

      The King sat and ground his teeth with frustration. Once again he tackled the remains of his dinner with his gold knife and fork, but the magic passed straight through them to the food.

      He bent his head to his plate and tried to eat like an animal. But it was hopeless. He couldn’t get a proper mouthful.

      So he pushed away his useless food and sat alone at his golden table. First he sighed, then he groaned, then he sniffed, and at last a great sob came up from inside him and two large tears rolled down his cheeks, splashed onto his hands, and from there bounced onto the floor in drops of gold.

       Chapter Three The Price

      The King, in his misery, hadn’t noticed that he was not alone.

      In through the french windows, open on the garden, had come a СКАЧАТЬ