at he was a prince's son.
For several years his heart had been overflowing with love for the
daughter of the prince and he had known that she reciprocated his
affection sincerely, yet for the sake of his own family he had battled
bravely with his passion and had borne his heartache and longing in
silence.

Proofs had not been wanting to show hint how devoted the prince was to
him, and if he had been able to say to his patron, "I am a Greylock," no
doubt his lord would gladly have accorded his daughter's hand to him.
George had repeated this to himself a thousand times, but he had remained
firm, had kept his counsel and had not ceased to hope that by righteous
energy and industry he might accomplish the "great and good task" which
had been required of him in Misdral's cave. When his grey lock grew, the
fairy Clementine's fish had said to him, then would he know that he had
achieved something great and good, and that he might bear once more the
name of his proud race and return home without exposing his family to any
danger. He had reached the goal, the task was completed, he might call
himself a Greylock once more, for the curl which was the pride of his
race now adorned his head too.

The prince watched him turn very red then very pale and finally said
inquiringly "Well, my Peregrinus?" The architect fell upon his knee,
kissed the prince's hand and cried:

"I am not Peregrinus. Henceforth I am a Greylock, I am George, the second
son of the Duke Wendelin, of whom you have heard, and I must confess to
you, my noble lord, that I love your daughter Speranza, and I would not
exchange places with any god if you would but give us your blessing."

"A Greylock!" the prince exclaimed. "Truly, truly this day should not be
reckoned among the feast-days but should be regarded as the best day in
all the year. Come to my arms, my dear, my worthy son!"

An hour later the architect held the princess in his arms. What a wedding
they had! George did not return immediately to his own home. He wrote to
his mother that he was alive and well and intended to visit her in
company with his young bride as soon as he had finished a great work with
which he was occupied. He sent with the letter a portrait of his wife and
when the duchess saw it and read the letter she grew ten years younger
from pure delight, and old Nonna at least five. When Wendelin XVI. was
informed that his brother still lived, he smiled and the queen followed
his example,