The Princess Bride: Chapter 6

It’s like eighty-nine days till the nuptials and every high muckamuck in Florin has to give a ‘do’ for the couple, and what Morgenstern fills his pages with is how the various richies of the time entertained.

And, more important, because of the foiling of the kidnapping attempt, three things happen: (1) everyone is pretty well convinced that the plot was engineered by Guilder, so relations between the countries are more than a little strained; (2) Buttercup is just adored by everybody because the rumors are all over that she acted very brave and even came through the Fire Swamp alive and (3) Prince Humperdinck is, at last, in his own land, a hero.

What happens here that you aren’t going to read is the six-page soliloquy from Inigo in which Morgenstern, through Inigo, reflects on the anguish of fleeting glory.

The reason for the soliloquy here is that Morgenstern's previous book had gotten bombed by the critics and also hadn’t sold beans.

The stoop was wretched and bleak.

Fezzik hoped they would go away, so he froze, pretending to be off with Inigo and Inigo would say “barrel” and Fezzik right quick would come back “carol” and maybe they would sing a little something until Inigo said “serenade” and you couldn’t stump Fezzik with one that easy because of “centigrade” and then Inigo would make a word about the weather and Fezzik would rhyme it and that was how it went until the village boys stopped being afraid of him.

His shoulder was beginning to fester from the gnawing and digging that the R.O.U.S.s had done into his flesh.

He was certainly underground. It was not the lack of windows that made that sure; more the dankness.

The wedding date of course, was unchanged—it wasn’t every day a country had a five hundredth anniversary—but all the festivities were either curtailed entirely or vastly cut down.

It wasn’t until King Humperdinck walked out on the balcony with her to greet the gigantic throng that had spent the day in patient waiting that she realized it had happened, she was the Queen, her life, for whatever it was worth, belonged now to the people.

On the balcony watching it all Humperdinck reacted instantly, gesturing soldiers into the area where the sound had come from, dispatching more troops quickly down to surround the Queen, and like clockwork Buttercup was safe, the booer apprehended and led away.

‘It says right here,’ my father began, a little huffy, and he starts going over it again.
‘You must have skipped a page then. Something. Get it right, huh?’

Good got attracted to good, evil you flushed down the john and that was that. But their marriage—I couldn’t make it jibe.

All those Columbia experts can spiel all they want about the delicious satire; they’re crazy. This book says ‘life isn't fair’ and I’m telling you, one and all, you better believe it.

She felt sick with weariness, of course, but such was her fear of what she might dream that she preferred any waking discomfort to whatever sleep might have to offer, and at dawn her mother was pregnant—no, more than pregnant; her mother was having a baby—and as Buttercup stood there in the corner of the room, she watched herself being born and her father gasped at her beauty and so did her mother and the midwife was the first to show concern.

Because when she died of murder on their wedding night, it was crucial that all Florin realize the depth of his love, the epochal size of his loss, since then no one would dare hesitate to follow him in the revenge war he was to launch against Guilder.

And when the man in black had somehow materialized to spoil his plans, the Prince came close to going insane with rage.

And although he was just the least bit perturbed, since he had never actually killed a woman before with his bare hands, there was a first time for everything.

Count Rugen did the actual pain inducing; the Prince simply sat by, asking questions out loud, inwardly admiring the Count’s skill.

“I feel quite invigorated,” the Count said as he and the Prince began to ascend the underground staircase.

The Count was privy to all his innermost plans for the revenge war.

“I think emotions are clouding your objectivity just a bit. Do you actually think that there is nothing the fellow can’t do?”

I never knew he was so interested in mountain climbing but he scaled the Cliffs of Insanity under most adverse conditions, and everyone agrees that that is not the easiest thing in the world to accomplish.

So each night, the Count’s discomforts, which made Westley writhe and twist, were really sort of all right.

He moved close to Yellin and looked carefully around before saying, softly, “I have heard, from unimpeachable sources, that many men of Guilder have, of late, begun to infiltrate our Thieves Quarter. They are disguised as Florinese, and I am worried.”

“Plenty of time, dulcet darling, now don’t worry yourself.”

“He seemed so strong, so remarkably powerful,” the Count went on, his voice warm and lulling.

My preference would be to last eternity with you beside me on a cloud, but hell would also be a lark if Westley was with me....

She went on that way, silent hour after silent hour; she had done nothing else for thirty-eight evenings now, and each time, her ardor deepened, her thoughts became more pure.

I know your secret, if that’s any consolation to you.

It appears to be a great conglomeration of soft rimmed cups of infinitely varied sizes, together with a wheel and a dial and a lever, and what it does is beyond me.

“Are you really as brave as you sound, or are you a little frightened? The truth, please. This is for posterity, remember.”

The Count was simply in a quandary. So many possibilities, but which would prove, scientifically, most interesting?

In general, Yellin, through adroit handling of the Brute Squad, was able to bring these bad fellows, eventually, under control.

Yellin arose at dawn and, tired and confused—not one of the captured criminals seemed to come from Guilder—he gathered the best of the Brute Squad and led them into the Thieves Quarter for what simply had to be the final foray.

“They tried getting this fencer yesterday, some of the standard enforcers, but it seems he has certain sword skills that made them wary, but I think I have a trick that will work.”

Fezzik began berating himself. “Oh, you stupid, if there’s a right way and a wrong way, trust you to find the dumb way; fool, fool, back to the beginning was the rule.”

The Prince was driving him crazy with his stories of the Guilder infiltration. Yellin had every spy he’d ever used working day and night and not one of them had come up with anything about Guilder.

Then he said, blowing her a kiss, but discreetly, so Yellin couldn’t see, “Yes yes, how forgetful I am, every ship but four.”

When they were gone, the albino came out, pulled the cups from the corpse, decided to burn the body on the garbage pyre back behind the castle.