p people from going into rooms
without permission, and to keep watch also, lest somebody should get in
and kill the King. The King was always afraid of being killed; there
were so many unhappy and discontented persons in Italy, who did not
want him to be King. Just think how frightful it must be to know every
day,--morning, noon, and night,--that there was danger of somebody's
coming stealthily into your room to kill you! Who would be a king? It
used to make the children afraid whenever they passed these tall
soldiers in armor, in the halls. They would hold tight to each other's
hands, and run as fast as they could, past them; and when they got out
in the open air, they were glad; most of all when their nurse took them
into the country, where they could run on the grass and pick flowers.
There they used often to see poor little hovels of houses, with gardens,
and a donkey and chickens in the yard, and children playing; and they
used to say they wished their father and mother were poor, and lived in
a house like that, and kept a donkey. And then the nurse would tell them
they were silly children; that it was a fine thing to live in a palace,
and have their father one of the King's officers, and their mother one
of the most beautiful of the Queen's ladies; but you couldn't have made
the children believe it. They hated the palace, and everything about it,
more and more every day of their lives.

Giuseppe was ten, and Maria was seven. They were never called by their
real names: Giuseppe was called Jusy, and Maria was called Rea; Jusy and
Rea, nobody would ever have guessed from that, what their real names
were. Maria is pronounced _Mahrea_ in Italy; so that was the way she
came to be called Rea for shortness. Jusy gave himself his nickname when
he was a baby, and it had always stuck to him ever since.

It was enough to make anybody's heart ache to see these two poor little
things, when they first got strong enough to totter about after this
fever; so weak they felt, they could hardly stand; and they cried more
than half the time, thinking about their papa and mamma, dead and buried
without their even being able to kiss them once for good-by. The King
himself felt so sorry for the little orphans, he came to speak to them;
and the kind Queen came almost every day, and sent them beautiful toys,
and good things to eat; but nothing comforted the children.

"What do you suppose will become of us, Jusy?" Rea often said; and Jusy