"O God of mercy!" prayed the pastor, "grant me the wisdom to speak
to the unhappy father. Would I might stay his fleeing wits--!"

Sexton Blackie, standing there with Jan, now cleared his throat.
The pastor rose at once, went up to Jan, and took him by the hand.

"My dear Jan!" he said feelingly. The pastor was tall and fair and
handsome. When he came up to you, with his kindly blue eyes beaming
benevolence, and spoke to you in his deep sympathetic voice, it was
not easy to resist him. In this instance, however, the only thing
to do was to set him right at the start, which Jan did of course.

"Jan is no more, my good Pastor," he said. "Now we are Emperor
Johannes of Portugallia, and he who does not wish to address us by
our proper title, him we have nothing to say to."

With that, Jan gave the pastor a stiff' imperial nod of dismissal,
and put on his cap. They looked rather foolish, did the three men
who stood in the vestry, when Jan pushed open the door and walked
out.



BOOK THREE

THE EMPEROR'S SONG

In the wooded heights above Loby there was still a short stretch of
an old country road where in bygone days all teams had to pass, but