r had not
been from himself, at all. On Easter night, as he crept to his bed of
straw, he wept, not because he was so wretched, but because he had not
been a better king when power was his.

At last all the festivities were over, and the King of Sicily went home
to his own land again, with his people. Robert the jester came home
too.

On the day of their home-coming, there was a special service in the
royal church, and even after the service was over for the people, the
monks held prayers of thanksgiving and praise. The sound of their
singing came softly in at the palace windows. In the great banquet
room, the king sat, wearing his royal robes and his crown, while many
subjects came to greet him. At last, he sent them all away, saying he
wanted to be alone; but he commanded the jester to stay. And when they
were alone together the king looked into Robert's eyes, as he had done
before, and said, softly, "Who art thou?"

Robert of Sicily bowed his head. "Thou knowest best," he said, "I only
know that I have sinned."

As he spoke, he heard the voices of the monks singing, "He hath put
down the mighty from their seat,"--and his head sank lower. But
suddenly the music seemed to change; a wonderful light shone all about.
As Robert raised his eyes, he saw the face of the king smiling at him
with a radiance like nothing on earth, and as he sank to his knees
before the glory of that smile, a voice sounded with the music, like a
melody throbbing on a single string:--

"I am an angel, and thou art the king!"

Then Robert of Sicily was alone. His royal robes were upon him once
more; he wore his crown and his royal ring. He was king. And when the
courtiers came back they found their king kneeling by his throne,
absorbed in silent prayer.

THE JEALOUS COURTIERS[1]

[1] Adapted from the facts given in the German of H. A. Guerber's
Marchen und Erzahlungen (D. C. Heath & Co.).

I wonder if you have ever heard the anecdote about the artist of
Dusseldorf and the jealous courtiers. This is it. It seems there was
once a very famous artist who lived in the little town of Dusseldorf.
He did such fine work that the Elector, Prince Johann Wilhelm, ordered
a portrait statue of himself, on horseback, to be done in bronze. The
artist was overjoyed at the commission, and worked early and late at
the statue.

At last the work was done, and the artist had the great statue set up
in the public square of Dusseldorf, re