ially relieved her feelings she dried her tears and began to think.
Her thinking was seldom or never barren of results. To escape somehow,
anyhow, everyhow, was so urgent that she felt it to be essential to the
very existence of the universe--her universe at least--that she should
lift herself out of the Impossible into the Stick-at-nothing. The thing
_must_ be done--by miracle if not otherwise.

And she succeeded--not by miracle but by natural means--as the reader
shall find out all in good time.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

THE PRINCE UNDERTAKES STRANGE WORK.

When Prince Bladud entered upon what he really believed would be his
last journey, he naturally encountered very different experiences, being
neither so ignorant, so helpless, nor so improvident as his helpless
follower.

After a good many days of unflagging perseverance, therefore, he reached
the neighbourhood of the Hot Swamp, in good spirits and in much better
health than when he set out. He was, indeed, almost restored to his
usual vigour of body, for the fever by which he had been greatly
weakened had passed away, and the constant walking and sleeping in fresh
air had proved extremely beneficial. We know not for certain whether
the leprosy by which he had been attacked was identical in all respects
with the fatal disease known in the East, or whether it was something
akin to it, or the same in a modified form. The only light which is
thrown by our meagre records on this point is that it began with fever
and then, after a period of what seemed convalescence, or inaction, it
continued to progress slowly but surely. Of course the manner in which
it had been caught was more than presumptive evidence that it was at
least of the nature of the fatal plague of the East.

Although his immunity from present suffering tended naturally to raise
the spirits of the prince, it did not imbue him with much, if any, hope,
for he knew well he might linger for months--even for years--before the
disease should sap all his strength and finally dry up the springs of
life.

This assurance was so strong upon him that, as we have said, he once--
indeed more than once--thought of taking his own life. But the
temptation passed quickly. He was too conscientious and too brave to do
that; and had none of that moral cowardice which seeks escape from the
inevitable in hoped-for oblivion. Whether his life was the gift of many
gods or of one God, he held that it was a sacred trust wh