John! My brother's son! Oh, how I have longed to tell you and claim
you for my nephew! But I vowed that I would wait until you had proved
yourself worthy of him, worthy of the name by which I christened you.
And you are worthy, O my dear John, even to wear the silver Cross!"

"I do not understand yet," said John. "Who am I? And why do the
people shout my name and seem to love me so much?"

"You are the son of John, the holy friend of the people," answered the
Hermit.

"But you, my father,--for so I must call you still," said John; "who
are you, and how came you to be living in the forest?"

"I was but a humble servant of God," said the Hermit. "But when King
Cyril died, and my brother and you were gone, there was not happiness
for me in the city of sorrow. I became an exile. I fled to the forest
with the hunted animals who were my brother's friends. And there I
made a home for them, a kingdom of my own, with Brutus for my prime
minister. And there, after many years, you came to find me, my dear
son! It was a miracle!"

Now the Prince came forward and laid his hand timidly on John's
shoulder. "John," he said, "now you know how less than ever you have
reason to love the rulers of this land. But oh, John! I beg you to
forgive us. Be my brother, John; and if you can forget, let me be your
friend!"

"My brother and friend!" cried John; and the two hugged each other
affectionately, while Brutus leaped up and licked the face first of