idings.

The King, I hardly need say, was beside himself with rage and
disappointment. Scowling so terribly that his eyebrows almost met, he
cried to the merchant:--

"Wretch, through you I have lost the finest jewel in the world! If you
do not find it within a year, your life and your possessions shall be
forfeited to me."

On hearing these terrible words, the merchant turned pale, for he had no
more idea where the Emerald of the Sea was to be found than had a
new-born child. His two sons, however, when they had heard his story,
bade him not to despair, and declared that they would that very night go
forth and seek the emerald through the world.

Now, because the poor merchant could not bear to be left quite alone, it
was finally agreed that only the eldest son should go in search of the
jewel, while the second-born should remain at home. This, of course, was
much against the will of the second son; nevertheless, so it was
arranged.

And so the eldest son sailed away. The days lengthened into weeks, the
weeks into months, the months into a year, yet the eldest son did not
return. A guard of soldiers led the unhappy merchant before the King.

"Well, have you found the Emerald of the Sea?" said the King.

"No," replied the merchant, hopelessly. And now all would certainly have
been over with the poor merchant, had not his second son begged and
pleaded with the King for a year of respite in which he, too, might
search for the emerald through the world. Though at first unwilling, the
King at length yielded to the plea, but exacted one half of the
merchant's possessions as a forfeit.

And so the second son sailed away. Days lengthened into weeks, weeks
lengthened into months, the months into a year, yet the second son did
not return. Cruel storms wrecked so many of the merchant's ships that he
lost the other half of his possessions, and was forced to take refuge in
a miserable cottage by the marshes beyond the town.

On the last night of the year granted to him by the King, the unhappy
man sat in his poor house by a crumbling driftwood fire, listening to
the surf breaking on the beach that edged the marsh. Far away, he heard
the bells of the royal city sound the midnight hour. Neither the eldest
son nor the second-born had returned. The second year of respite was at
an end; nothing now could stay the anger of the King.

Suddenly there came a vigorous rat-tat-tat on the door.

"I am lost," murmured the poor merc