d speechless, staring at the
Hermit and the group around him. Then, with a wave of his hand, he
bade the guards stand back. He turned to a black-gowned man on his
right who had just entered the hall. "Does my son still live?" he
asked in a choking voice.

The doctor nodded gravely. "He still lives, Sire. But he is very low.
He cannot survive many minutes."

The King paled. "Let us hasten," he said. "It is the last chance.
Perhaps the boy has skill." Then, turning to the little group of
people from the forest, he beckoned grimly. "Come with me," he said.
"Save my son's life, and you save your own. Otherwise I swear that you
shall all die the most hideous and painful of deaths."

Descending from the throne with tottering steps, for the King had grown
a feeble old man, he led the way from the great hall. Behind him came
the doctor and the Hermit. John followed, with the animals in his arms
and close about his heels.

So they came to the door of a room in one wing of the palace.

XXII

THE PRINCE'S CHAMBER

At the door the King paused and turned back to the little company which
followed him.

"You may enter," he said, "and try your skill on the Prince, who is
near to death. If you cure him, I will give you whatsoever reward you
may demand. But see that you do not fail!" The King's voice was full
of menace. "Enter, in the name of whatever magic you use."

"In the name of love we come," said the Hermit gently; "and in the name
of love we shall do our best for your son, O King. Enter softly, John.
You must do without me now. Leave our larger, clumsier friends outside
with me."

Softly John tiptoed over the sill, carrying the kittens in his arms,
with the dove on his shoulder, and the white cat following behind.

In the centre of the room was a couch, hung with a splendid canopy of
purple and gold. Beneath a purple coverlet fringed with gold lay the
Prince, white as the lace of the pillow on which his black curls
rested. His eyes were closed, and he looked still and lifeless. The
hand which lay outside on the purple velvet was as white and
transparent as the hand of a marble statue.

On one side of his bed sat a doctor in a black velvet gown, and several
attendants stood about with long faces and tired eyes. On the other
side of the couch a little girl crouched on a low stool. She was a
pale, pretty little thing, younger than John, and her dress of
brilliant red made her sad, dark ey