d of twenty-four stanzas, each one ending with
the lines:

"The luck and glory let us sing Of lucky Wendelin, our king!"

By his side sat his wife, who continued her complaints against the
newly-found brother, and urged her husband to make investigations as to
whether or not this architect were a true Greylock, "To be sure, both
he and his son have the grey lock," she said, "but then they both have
light hair, and the barber's craft has made great strides lately; and
certainly that fat-cheeked baby looks as if it belonged in the cradle of
a peasant rather than in that of a prince." Wendelin XVI did not listen
to what she said; his heart was very heavy, and every time one of the
bells rang out above the others, or the chorus sang, "lucky Wendelin,
our king," particularly distinctly and enthusiastically, he felt as if
he were being jeered at and ridiculed. He longed to cry aloud in his
shame and pain, and to fly for comfort to his sympathetic mother and
strong brother in the other boat. When he stared into the water it
seemed as if the fish made fun of him, and if he looked at the sky
he imagined the moon made a mocking grimace at him, and looked down
scornfully at the wretched man whom they called "fortunate." He knew not
where to gaze, he withdrew within himself, and tried to shut his ears,
while he wished to Heaven that he could change places with the active
sailor opposite who was setting the purple sail with his brawny arms.

A light breeze wafted the royal gondola towards the island where the
fireworks were to be displayed. The second boat followed at a short
distance. George held his mother's hand and his wife's in his own, few
words were spoken, but their very silence betrayed the great treasure
of their love and happiness, and spoke more plainly than long discourses
how dear these three persons were to one another.

The royal gondola floated quietly past the cliff that separated the
southern from the northern part of the lake; no sooner had the second
boat approached it, however, than an unexpected and fearful gust of
wind blew suddenly from the clefts of the rocks and struck the boat,
and before the sailors had time to lower the sail threw it onto its beam
ends. George sprang forward instantly to help the sailors right her,
but a second gust tore away the flapping sail, and capsized the gondola,
which was caught and carried to the bottom by a rushing eddy. Both of
the women rose from the waves at George's