trumpets in order to stop all further conversation.

The Prince's procession formed itself for returning,--the King and his
train having already moved off toward the palace,--but on the top-most
step of the marble stairs stood, right in front of all, the little old
woman clothed in gray.

She stretched herself on tiptoe by the help of her stick, and gave the
little Prince three kisses.

"This is intolerable!" cried the young lady nurse, wiping the kisses
off rapidly with her lace handkerchief. "Such an insult to his Royal
Highness! Take yourself out of the way, old woman, or the King shall be
informed immediately."

"The King knows nothing of me, more's the pity," replied the old woman,
with an indifferent air, as if she thought the loss was more on his
Majesty's side than hers. "My friend in the palace is the King's wife."

"King's have not wives, but queens," said the lady nurse, with a
contemptuous air.

"You are right," replied the old woman. "Nevertheless I know her Majesty
well, and I love her and her child. And--since you dropped him on the
marble stairs (this she said in a mysterious whisper, which made the
young lady tremble in spite of her anger)--I choose to take him for my
own, and be his godmother, ready to help him whenever he wants me."

"You help him!" cried all the group breaking into shouts of laughter,
to which the little old woman paid not the slightest attention. Her soft