committed such cruelties that the people ran mad themselves. One day
they stormed the palace, killed and overpowered the guards, and, rushing
into the royal apartments, burst in upon the king as he shuddered green
with terror and fury in his private room. He was king no more, and must
leave the country, they vowed, as they closed round him with bared
weapons and shook them in his face. Where was the prince? They must see
him and tell him their ultimatum. It was he whom they wanted for a king.
They trusted him and would obey him. They began to shout aloud his
name, calling him in a sort of chant in unison, "Prince Ivor--Prince
Ivor--Prince Ivor!" But no answer came. The people of the palace had
hidden themselves, and the place was utterly silent.

The king, despite his terror, could not help but sneer.

"Call him again," he said. "He is afraid to come out of his hole!"

A savage fellow from the mountain fastnesses struck him on the mouth.

"He afraid!" he shouted. "If he does not come, it is because thou hast
killed him--and thou art a dead man!"

This set them aflame with hotter burning. They broke away, leaving three
on guard, and ran about the empty palace rooms shouting the prince's
name. But there was no answer. They sought him in a frenzy, bursting
open doors and flinging down every obstacle in their way. A page, found
hidden in a closet, owned that he had seen His Royal Highness pass
through a corridor early in the morning. He had been softly singing to
himself one of the shepherd's songs.

And in this strange way out of the history of Samavia, five hundred