ing face of the great
clock in the tower, his smile, altruistic as it was, became slightly
tinged with contempt. Big thoughts were the Prince's; and it was always
with a shake of his head that he considered the subjugation of the world
to the arbitrary measures of Time. The comings and goings of people in
hurry and dread, controlled by the little metal moving hands of a clock,
always made him sad.

By and by came a young man in evening clothes and sat upon the third
bench from the Prince. For half an hour he smoked cigars with nervous
haste, and then he fell to watching the face of the illuminated clock
above the trees. His perturbation was evident, and the Prince noted, in
sorrow, that its cause was connected, in some manner, with the slowly
moving hands of the timepiece.

His Highness arose and went to the young man's bench.

"I beg your pardon for addressing you," he said, "but I perceive that
you are disturbed in mind. If it may serve to mitigate the liberty I
have taken I will add that I am Prince Michael, heir to the throne of
the Electorate of Valleluna. I appear incognito, of course, as you may
gather from my appearance. It is a fancy of mine to render aid to others
whom I think worthy of it. Perhaps the matter that seems to distress you
is one that would more readily yield to our mutual efforts."

The young man looked up brightly at the Prince. Brightly, but the
perpendicular line of perplexity between his brows was not smoothed
away. He laughed, and even then it did not. But he accepted the
momentary diversion.

"Glad to meet you, Prince," he said, good humouredly. "Yes, I'd say you
were incog. all right. Thanks for your offer of assistance--but I don't
see where your butting-in would help things any. It's a kind of private
affair, you know--but thanks all the same."

Prince Michael sat at the young man's side. He was often rebuffed but
never offensively. His courteous manner and words forbade that.

"Clocks," said the Prince, "are shackles on the feet of mankind. I have
observed you looking persistently at that clock. Its face is that of a
tyrant, its numbers are false as those on a lottery ticket; its hands
are those of a bunco steerer, who makes an appointment with you to your
ruin. Let me entreat you to throw off its humiliating bonds and to cease
to order your affairs by that insensate monitor of brass and steel."

"I don't usually," said the young man. "I carry a watch except when I've
got my ra