CHAPTER 6, part 5
As he uttered the last words, Curdie let go his hold of his companion, and rushed at the thing in the road as if he would trample it under his feet. It gave a great spring, and ran straight up one of the rocks like a huge spider. Curdie turned back laughing, and took Irene's hand again. She grasped his very tight, but said nothing till they had passed the rocks. A few yards more and she found herself on a part of the road she knew, and was able to speak again.
'Do you know, Curdie, I don't quite like your song: it sounds to me rather rude,' she said. 'Well, perhaps it is,' answered Curdie. 'I never thought of that; it's a way we have. We do it because they don't like it.' 'Who don't like it?' 'The cobs, as we call them.' 'Don't!' said the nurse.
'Why not?' said Curdie.
'I beg you won't. Please don't.' 'Oh! if you ask me that way, of course, I won't; though I don't a bit know why. Look! there are the lights of your great house down below. You'll be at home in five minutes now.' Nothing more happened. They reached home in safety. Nobody had missed them, or even known they had gone out; and they arrived at the door belonging to their part of the house without anyone seeing them. The nurse was rushing in with a hurried and not over-gracious good night to Curdie; but the princess pulled her hand from hers, and was just throwing her arms round Curdie's neck, when she caught her again and dragged her away. 'Lootie! Lootie! I promised a kiss,' cried Irene. 'A princess mustn't give kisses. It's not at all proper,' said Lootie. 'But I promised,' said the princess. 'There's no occasion; he's only a miner-boy.' 'He's a good boy, and a brave boy, and he has been very kind to us. Lootie! Lootie! I promised.' 'Then you shouldn't have promised.' 'Lootie, I promised him a kiss.' 'Your Royal Highness,' said Lootie, suddenly grown very respectful, 'must come in directly.' 'Nurse, a princess must not break her word,' said Irene, drawing herself up and standing stock-still. Lootie did not know which the king might count the worst--to let the princess be out after sunset, or to let her kiss a miner-boy. She did not know that, being a gentleman, as many kings have been, he would have counted neither of them the worse. However much he might have disliked his daughter to kiss the miner-boy, he would not have had her break her word for all the goblins in creation. But, as I say, the nurse was not lady enough to understand this, and so she was in a great difficulty, for, if she insisted, someone might hear the princess cry and run to see, and then all would come out. But here Curdie came again to the rescue.
'Never mind, Princess Irene,' he said. 'You mustn't kiss me tonight. But you shan't break your word. I will come another time. You may be sure I will.' 'Oh, thank you, Curdie!' said the princess, and stopped crying.
'Good night, Irene; good night, Lootie,' said Curdie, and turned and was out of sight in a moment. 'I should like to see him!' muttered the nurse, as she carried the princess to the nursery.
'You will see him,' said Irene. 'You may be sure Curdie will keep his word. He's sure to come again.' 'I should like to see him!' repeated the nurse, and said no more. She did not want to open a new cause of strife with the princess by saying more plainly what she meant. Glad enough that she had succeeded both in getting home unseen, and in keeping the princess from kissing the miner's boy, she resolved to watch her far better in future. Her carelessness had already doubled the danger she was in. Formerly the goblins were her only fear; now she had to protect her charge from Curdie as well.
