Dolor's head actually bumped against the glass, or would have done so
had he not crouched down, crying "Oh, please don't hurt me!" in a most
melancholy voice.

Then he suddenly remembered his godmother's express command--"Open the
skylight!"

Regaining his courage at once, without a moment's delay he lifted up
his head and began searching for the bolt--the cloak meanwhile remaining
perfectly still, balanced in the air. But the minute the window was
opened, out it sailed--right out into the clear, fresh air, with nothing
between it and the cloudless blue.

Prince Dolor had never felt any such delicious sensation before. I can
understand it. Cannot you? Did you never think, in watching the rooks
going home singly or in pairs, soaring their way across the calm evening
sky till they vanish like black dots in the misty gray, how pleasant it
must feel to be up there, quite out of the noise and din of the world,
able to hear and see everything down below, yet troubled by nothing and
teased by no one--all alone, but perfectly content?

Something like this was the happiness of the little lame Prince when he
got out of Hopeless Tower, and found himself for the first time in the
pure open air, with the sky above him and the earth below.

True, there was nothing but earth and sky; no houses, no trees, no
rivers, mountains, seas--not a beast on the ground, or a bird in the
air. But to him even the level plain looked beautiful; and then there
was the glorious arch of the sky, with a little young moon sitting in
the west like a baby queen. And the evening breeze was so sweet and