out the comedy to the end by giving the merchant the place of honor
at his table, and dismissing him with the present of a fine pup of
his favorite breed. Perhaps the animal acted as a mnemonic
symbol, for Gregor was never afterwards accused of forgetfulness.

If this trick put the Prince in a good humor, some thing presently
occurred which carried him to the opposite extreme. While taking
his customary siesta one afternoon, a wild young fellow--one of his
noble poor relations, who "sponged" at the castle--happened to pass
along a corridor outside of the very hall where his Highness was
snoring. Two ladies in waiting looked down from an upper window.
The young fellow perceived them, and made signs to attract their
attention. Having succeeded in this, he attempted, by all sorts of
antics and grimaces, to make them laugh or speak; but he failed,
for the slumber-flag waved over them, and its fear was upon them.
Then, in a freak of incredible rashness, he sang, in a loud voice,
the first line of a popular ditty, and took to his heels.

No one had ever before dared to insult the sacred quiet. The
Prince was on his feet in a moment, and rushed into the corridor,
(dropping his mantle of sables by the way,) shouting.--

"Bring me the wretch who sang!"

The domestics scattered before him, for his face was terrible to
look upon. Some of them had heard the voice, indeed, but not one
of them had seen the culprit, who al ready lay upon a heap of hay
in one of the stables, and appeared to be sunk in innocent sleep.

"Who was it? who was it?" yelled the Prince, foaming at the