and consequently did not
repeat his confidences even to the duchess, who had enough to bear
without that additional burden.

How pale her darling seemed to her when she saw him in the glass! Yet,
even on the worst days, he was busy at his place in the piazza, where the
cathedral, which he had been building for three years, was nearing
completion. The greatest energy at that moment was being expended on the
dome, which rose proudly over the crossing of the nave and transepts.
Whenever Nonna looked over the duchess' shoulder to get a glimpse of
George, he was always seen there so long as the sun was in the heavens.
Many times the hearts of the two women stood still when they saw him
climb to the highest point of the scaffolding in order to direct the work
from there. Fate had only to make his foot slip one little inch or decree
that a wasp should sting him on the finger to put an end to his
existence. The poor mother was doubly anxious because he seemed so
unconscious of the risk he ran up there and looked about him even more
boldly and self-reliantly than usual.

The dome was already perfectly round. Why wasn't it finished, and why
must he go on climbing again and again that frightful scaffolding?

"Nonna, Nonna, you must look, I can stand it no longer," she cried one
day after she had been regarding the glass for a long time. "Hold me--he
is going to jump. Nonna, is he safe? I can no longer see." And the glass
shook in her hand.

"Oh!" the old woman answered, heaving a sigh of relief, "there he stands
as solidly and firmly as the statue of Wendelin I. in the market-place.
See. . . ."

"Yes, yes, there he is," the duchess cried and fell on her knees to thank
Heaven.

The nurse continued to look in the glass. Suddenly she shrieked aloud and
her mistress sank together and covered her face with her hands. "Has he
fallen? Is he dead?" she groaned.

But Nonna, despite her gout, sprang up and ran to her mistress with the
mirror in her hand and stammering, half laughing and half crying, like
one drunk yet possessed of his senses: "George, our George, look. Our
prince has the grey lock. Here, before my very eyes I saw it grow."

The duchess jumped up, cast one glance into the glass, saw the grey lock
distinctly, and then forgetting that she was a princess and Nonna but a
humble servant, threw her arms about her and kissed her on the mouth,
above which grew so luxuriant a moustache that many a page would gladly
have exc