y-making,
but beware of tomorrow!"

As soon as these words were ended the six black men marched King Selim
back whence they had brought him; there they left him and passed out one
by one as they had first come in, and the door shut to behind them.

Then in an instant the lights flashed out again, the music began to
play and the people began to talk and laugh, and King Selim thought that
maybe all that had just passed was only a bit of an ugly dream after
all.

So that is the way King Selim the Baker began to reign, and that is the
way he continued to reign. All day was feasting and drinking and making
merry and music and laughing and talking. But every night at midnight
the same thing happened: the lights went out, all the people began
wailing and crying, and the six tall, terrible black men came with
flashing torches and marched King Selim away to the beautiful statue.
And every night the same voice said--"Selim! Selim! Selim! What art thou
doing! To-day is feasting and drinking and merry-making; but beware of
tomorrow!"

So things went on for a twelvemonth, and at last came the end of the
year. That day and night the merry-making was merrier and wilder and
madder than it had ever been before, but the great clock in the tower
went on--tick, tock! tick, tock!--and by and by it came midnight. Then,
as it always happened before, the lights went out, and all was as
black as ink. But this time there was no wailing and crying out, but
everything was silent as death; the door opened slowly, and in came, not
six black men as before, but nine men as silent as death, dressed all in
flaming red, and the torches they carried burned as red as blood. They
took King Selim by the arms, just as the six men had done, and marched
him through the same entries and passageways, and so came at last to
the same vaulted room. There stood the statue, but now it was turned to
flesh and blood, and the eyes were open and looking straight at Selim
the Baker.

"Art thou Selim?" said she; and she pointed her finger straight at him.

"Yes, I am Selim," said he.

"And dost thou wear the gold ring with the red stone?" said she.

"Yes," said he; "I have it on my finger."

"And dost thou wear the iron ring?"

"No," said he; "I gave that to Selim the Fisherman."

The words had hardly left his lips when the statue gave a great cry and
clapped her hands together. In an instant an echoing cry sounded all
over the town--a shriek fit to split the