w, 'will you not trust to the gentleness, the
friendship, and the truthfulness of your loving uncle?'

'I will tell my loving uncle that,' replied the boy, 'when he does me
right. Let him restore to me my kingdom of England, and then come to me
and ask the question.'

The King looked at him and went out. 'Keep that boy close prisoner,'
said he to the warden of the castle.

Then, the King took secret counsel with the worst of his nobles how the
Prince was to be got rid of. Some said, 'Put out his eyes and keep him
in prison, as Robort of Normandy was kept.' Others said, 'Have him
stabbed.' Others, 'Have him hanged.' Others, 'Have him poisoned.'

King John, feeling that in any case, whatever was done afterwards, it
would be a satisfaction to his mind to have those handsome eyes burnt out
that had looked at him so proudly while his own royal eyes were blinking
at the stone floor, sent certain ruffians to Falaise to blind the boy
with red-hot irons. But Arthur so pathetically entreated them, and shed
such piteous tears, and so appealed to HUBERT DE BOURG (or BURGH), the
warden of the castle, who had a love for him, and was an honourable,
tender man, that Hubert could not bear it. To his eternal honour he
prevented the torture from being performed, and, at his own risk, sent
the savages away.

The chafed and disappointed King bethought himself of the stabbing
suggestion next, and, with his shuffling manner and his cruel face,
proposed it to one William de Bray. 'I am a gentleman and not an
executioner,' said William de Bray, and left the presence with disdain.

But it was not difficult for a King to hire a murderer in those days.
King John found one for his money, and sent him down to the castle of
Falaise. 'On what errand dost thou come?' said Hubert to this fellow.
'To despatch young Arthur,' he returned. 'Go back to him who sent thee,'
answered Hubert, 'and say that I will do it!'

King John very well knowing that Hubert would never do it, but that he
courageously sent this reply to save the Prince or gain time, despatched
messengers to convey the young prisoner to the castle of Rouen.

Arthur was soon forced from the good Hubert--of whom he had never stood
in greater need than then--carried away by night, and lodged in his new
prison: where, through his grated window, he could hear the deep waters
of the river Seine, rippling against the stone wall below.

One dark night, as he lay sleeping, dreaming