inhabitants to woe!' So I rose and did the bidding of the star." And
while Morven was yet speaking, a servant of the king's house ran up
to the crowd, crying loudly, "The king is dead!" So they went into the
palace and found the king stark upon his couch, and his huge limbs all
cramped and crippled by the pangs of death, and his hands clenched as if
in menace of a foe,--the Foe of all living flesh! Then fear came on the
gazers, and they looked on Morven with a deeper awe than the boldest
warrior would have called forth; and they bore him back to the
council-hall of the wise men, wailing and clashing their arms in woe,
and shouting, ever and anon, "Honour to Morven the prophet!" And that
was the first time the word PROPHET was ever used in those countries.

At noon, on the third day from the king's death, Siror sought Morven,
and he said, "Lo, my father is no more, and the people meet this evening
at sunset to elect his successor, and the warriors and the young men
will surely choose my brother, for he is more known in war. Fail me not
therefore."

"Peace, boy!" said Morven, sternly; "nor dare to question the truth of
the gods of night."

For Morven now began to presume on his power among the people, and to
speak as rulers speak, even to the sons of kings; and the voice silenced
the fiery Siror, nor dared he to reply.

"Behold," said Morven, taking up a chaplet of coloured plumes, "wear
this on thy head, and put on a brave face, for the people like a hopeful
spirit, and go down with thy brother to the place where the new king is
to be chosen, and leave the rest to the stars. But, above all things,
forget not that chaplet; it has been blessed by the gods of night."

The prince took the chaplet and returned home.

It was evening, and the warriors and chiefs of the tribe were assembled
in the place where the new king was to be elected. And the voices of
the many favoured Prince Voltoch, the brother of Siror, for he had slain
twelve foemen with his spear; and verily, in those days, that was a
great virtue in a king.

Suddenly there was a shout in the streets, and the people cried out,
"Way for Morven the prophet, the prophet!" For the people held the son
of Osslah in even greater respect than did the chiefs. Now, since he had
become of note, Morven had assumed a majesty of air which the son of the
herdsman knew not in his earlier days; and albeit his stature was short,
and his limbs halted, yet his countenance was gra