The Masked Lady replied tranquilly: "He does not die. He lives forever
to proclaim to all mankind that the way of kings is an evil way."

It was now that Hubert de Burgh bestirred himself as if he could no
longer bear to be alone with his thoughts. He cried out
sharply--"Arthur! Arthur!"

The second door now opened and Prince Arthur appeared: a handsome boy,
perhaps fourteen years of age, straight of limb and noble of
countenance. He wore a velvet suit, including knee breeches and silk
hose and gaiters, and a jacket with a flowing lace collar.

He regarded Hubert de Burgh with dull eyes which slowly began to
brighten. "Oh, it's you?" he cried after a pause. And then, "If you
could know how glad I am to see you!" And then, falteringly,
"Hubert--when you were a boy, were you ever kept hidden away as if you
meant ill to every one?"

And now he approached Hubert with a wistful air, and leaned against his
knee, and placed his hand on his shoulder.

But the chamberlain flinched beneath the weight of that light hand.
"There, there, Arthur!--take your hand away!" he said. And then, with
an attempt to be severe, "We'll have none of that, you know!"

Prince Arthur pondered, and then his eyes brightened. "I'm glad you
said that, Hubert," he declared. "If you feel that way toward me you
can tell me why--why all the others feel so. Every face I look into
seems either to pity or to hate me; and I'd so like people to be