You must do without me now. Leave our larger, clumsier friends outside
with me."

Softly John tiptoed over the sill, carrying the kittens in his arms,
with the dove on his shoulder, and the white cat following behind.

In the centre of the room was a couch, hung with a splendid canopy of
purple and gold. Beneath a purple coverlet fringed with gold lay the
Prince, white as the lace of the pillow on which his black curls
rested. His eyes were closed, and he looked still and lifeless. The
hand which lay outside on the purple velvet was as white and
transparent as the hand of a marble statue.

On one side of his bed sat a doctor in a black velvet gown, and several
attendants stood about with long faces and tired eyes. On the other
side of the couch a little girl crouched on a low stool. She was a
pale, pretty little thing, younger than John, and her dress of
brilliant red made her sad, dark eyes look all the more sorrowful as
she gazed at John wistfully. It was Clare, the Prince's only sister.

As they entered the room the King made a sign to the doctor, who shook
his head sadly. The King crossed to the bed and bent down over his
son, touching the cold face. But it did not change. Neither the lips
nor eyelids trembled, and John could see no sign of life in that still
body. How different, he thought suddenly, from the vigorous figure
which had wrestled with him in the forest. How different that face
from the one which had looked back at him triumphantly after the arrow
had struck the poor deer!

"He does not hear nor see," said the King gloomily. "He scarcely