would meet him
and turn him aside; for he had come to think that so long as a man
wants to do right he may go where he can: when he can go no farther,
then it is not the way. 'Only,' said his father, in assenting to the
theory, 'he must really want to do right, and not merely fancy he does.
He must want it with his heart and will, and not with his rag of a
tongue.'

So he gently lifted the corner of the curtain, and there behind it was
a half-open door. He entered, and the moment he was in, Lina stretched
herself along the threshold between the curtain and the door.

CHAPTER 19

The King's Chamber

He found himself in a large room, dimly lighted by a silver lamp that
hung from the ceiling. Far at the other end was a great bed,
surrounded with dark heavy curtains. He went softly toward it, his
heart beating fast. It was a dreadful thing to be alone in the king's
chamber at the dead of night. To gain courage he had to remind himself
of the beautiful princess who had sent him.

But when he was about halfway to the bed, a figure appeared from the
farther side of it, and came towards him, with a hand raised warningly.
He stood still. The light was dim, and he could distinguish little
more than the outline of a young girl. But though the form he saw was
much taller than the princess he remembered, he never doubted it was
she. For one thing, he knew that most girls would have been frightened
to see him there in the dead of the night, but like a true princess,
and the princess he used to know, she walked straight on to meet him.
As she came she lowered the hand she had lifted, and laid the
forefinger of it upon her lips. Nearer and nearer, quite near, close
up to him she came, then stopped, and stood a moment looking at him.

'You are Curdie,' she said.

'And you are the Princess Irene,' he returned.

'Then we know each other still,' she said, with a sad smile of
pleasure. 'You will help me.'

'That I will,' answered Curdie. He did not say, 'If I can'; for he
knew that what he was sent to do, that he could do. 'May I kiss your
hand, little Princess?'

She was only between nine and ten, though indeed she looked several
years older, and her eyes almost those of a grown woman, for she had
had terrible trouble of late.

She held out her hand.

'I am not the little princess any more. I have grown up since I saw
you last, Mr Miner.'

The smile which accompanied the words had in it a strange mixture