othing grew on his cliff, and the only thing in the
world he longed for was to hear once again the whispering of the wind in
the branches of the lime trees at Knightsholm.

Sometimes, on a summer's day, a steamer would pass the islet; then he
heard the plashing of the waves, or, perhaps, snatches of music; and he
saw bright faces which grew dark as soon as their eyes fell on the grey
stone men on the mountain.

And then he cursed heaven and earth, his fate and the cruelty of men.
He cursed, year in, year out. And he and his companions tormented and
cursed each other day and night; for crime isolates, but misfortune
draws men together.

In the beginning his fate was unnecessarily cruel, for the keepers
ill-treated the prisoners, mercilessly and at their pleasure.

But one day there was a change; the food was better, the treatment was
less harsh, and every prisoner was given a cell of his own to sleep in.
The king himself had loosened the chains of the prisoners a little; but
since hopelessness had petrified the hearts of these unfortunate men,
they were unable to feel anything like gratitude, and so they continued
to curse; and now they came to the conclusion that it was more pleasant
to sleep together in one room, for then they could talk all night. And
they continued to complain of the food, the clothes, and the treatment,
just as before.

One fine day all the bells of the town were ringing, and those of
Knightsholm rang louder than any of the others. King Oscar was dead, and
the prisoners had a holiday. Since they could talk to one another now,
they talked of murdering the guards and escaping from prison; and they
also talked of the dead king, and they spoke evil of him.

"If he had been a just man, he would have set us free," said one of the
prisoners.

"Or else he would have imprisoned all the criminals who are at large."

"Then he himself would have had to be Governor of the Prison, for the
whole nation are criminals."

It is the way of prisoners to regard all men as criminals, and to
maintain that they themselves were only caught because they were
unlucky.

But it was a hot summer's day, and the stone man walked along the shore,
listening to the tolling of the bells for Oscar the king. He raised the
stones and looked for tadpoles and sticklebacks, but could find none;
not a fish was visible in the water, and consequently there was not a
sign of a sea-gull or a tern. Then he felt that a curse rested on