been very tired with his long journey--and clinging arms, which held
tight to the man's neck, for he was rather frightened, and the face,
black as it was, looked kindly at him. And he was very helpless, with
his poor, small shriveled legs, which could neither stand nor run
away--for the little forlorn boy was Prince Dolor.

He had not been dead at all--or buried either. His grand funeral had
been a mere pretense: a wax figure having been put in his place, while
he himself was spirited away under charge of these two, the condemned
woman and the black man. The latter was deaf and dumb, so could neither
tell nor repeat anything.

When they reached the foot of the tower, there was light enough to see
a huge chain dangling from the parapet, but dangling only halfway. The
deaf-mute took from his saddle-wallet a sort of ladder, arranged in
pieces like a puzzle, fitted it together, and lifted it up to meet the
chain. Then he mounted to the top of the tower, and slung from it a sort
of chair, in which the woman and the child placed themselves and were
drawn up, never to come down again as long as they lived. Leaving them
there, the man descended the ladder, took it to pieces again and packed
it in his pack, mounted the horse and disappeared across the plain.

Every month they used to watch for him, appearing like a speck in the
distance. He fastened his horse to the foot of the tower, and climbed
it, as before, laden with provisions and many other things. He always
saw the Prince, so as to make sure that the child was alive and well,
and then went away until the following month.

While his first childhood lasted Prince Dolor was happy enough. He
had every luxury that even a prince could need, and the one thing