Tom discovered Charing Village presently, and rested himself at
the beautiful cross built there by a bereaved king of earlier days;
then idled down a quiet, lovely road, past the great cardinal's
stately palace, toward a far more mighty and majestic palace beyond-
Westminster. Tom stared in glad wonder at the vast pile of masonry,
the wide-spreading wings, the frowning bastions and turrets, the
huge stone gateways, with its gilded bars and its magnificent array of
colossal granite lions, and the other signs and symbols of English
royalty. Was the desire of his soul to be satisfied at last? Here,
indeed, was a king's palace. Might he not hope to see a prince now-
a prince of flesh and blood, if Heaven were willing?
At each side of the gilded gate stood a living statue, that is
to say, an erect and stately and motionless man-at-arms, clad from
head to heel in shining steel armor. At a respectful distance were
many country-folk, and people from the city, waiting for any chance
glimpse of royalty that might offer. Splendid carriages, with splendid
people in them and splendid servants outside, were arriving and
departing by several other noble gateways that pierced the royal
inclosure.
Poor little Tom, in his rags, approached, and was moving slowly
and timidly past the sentinels, with a beating heart and a rising
hope, when all at once he caught sight through the golden bars of a
spectacle that almost made him shout for joy. Within was a comely boy,
tanned and brown with sturdy outdoors sports and exercises, whose
clothing was all of lovely silks and satins, shining with jewels; at
his hip a little jeweled sword and dagger; dainty buskins on his feet,
with red heels; and on his head a jaunty crimson cap, with drooping
plumes fastened with a great sparkling gem.
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