“Truly. I promise.”
“Gor!” shouted Mig. “Soup is illegal.”
“But soup is good,” said Despereaux.
“Yes,” said the Pea. “Isn’t it?”
The princess bent down before the mouse. “You are my knight,” she said to him, “with a shining needle. And I am so glad that you found me. Let’s go upstairs. Let’s eat some soup.”
And, reader, they did.
52
BUT THE QUESTION you want answered, I know, is did they live happily ever after?
Yes . . . and no.
What of Roscuro? Did he live happily ever after? Well . . . the Princess Pea gave him free access to the upstairs of the castle. And he was allowed to go back and forth from the darkness of the dungeon to the light of the upstairs. But, alas, he never really belonged in either place, the sad fate, I am afraid, of those whose hearts break and then mend in crooked ways. But the rat, in seeking forgiveness, did manage to shed some small light, some happiness into another life.
How?
Roscuro, reader, told the princess about the prisoner who had once owned a red tablecloth, and the princess saw to it that the prisoner was released. And Roscuro led the man up out of the dungeon and to his daughter, Miggery Sow. Mig, as you might have guessed, did not get to be a princess. But her father, to atone for what he had done, treated her like one for the rest of his days.
And what of Despereaux? Did he live happily ever after? Well, he did not marry the princess, if that is what you mean by happily ever after. Even in a world as strange as this one, a mouse and a princess cannot marry.
But, reader, they can be friends.
And they were. Together, they had many adventures. Those adventures, however, are another story, and this story, I’m afraid, must now draw to a close.
But before you leave, reader, imagine this: Imagine an adoring king and a glowing princess, a serving girl with a crown on her head and a rat with a spoon on his, all gathered around a table in a banquet hall. In the middle of the table, there is a great kettle of soup. Sitting in the place of honor, right next to the princess, is a very small mouse with big ears.
And peeking out from behind a dusty velvet curtain, looking in amazement at the scene before them, are four other mice.
“
“Forgiven,” whispers Lester.
“Cripes,” says Furlough, “unbelievable.”
“Just so,” says the threadmaster Hovis, smiling, “just so.”
And, reader, it is just so.
Isn’t it?
Coda
Do you remember when Despereaux was in the dungeon, cupped in Gregory the jailer’s hand, whispering a story in the old man’s ear?
I would like it very much if you thought of me as a mouse telling you a story, this story, with the whole of my heart, whispering it in your ear in order to save myself from the darkness, and to save you from the darkness, too.
“Stories are light,” Gregory the jailer told Despereaux.
Reader, I hope you have found some light here.
Acknowledgments
About the Authors
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