beautiful, and inspired even his mother with a feeling of awe and
respect. She never had cause to feel anxious about him, for there
was no better, nor more obedient child in the whole land.

The ill-omened boy, George, was the exact opposite of his brother. He,
on the contrary, had to be watched and tended, for his veins seemed to
run quicksilver. One would have been justified in saying that he went
out to meet the misfortune which was so surely awaiting him. Whenever it
was possible he gave his nurses and attendants the slip. He planned
dangerous games, and incited the children of the castle servants and
gardeners to carry out the mischief which he had contrived.

But his favorite pastime was building. Sometimes he would erect houses
of red stone, often he would dig great caves of many chambers and halls
in the sand. At this work he was much more energetic than his humbler
playfellows, and he would be dirty and dripping with perspiration when he
returned to the castle. The courtiers would shake their heads over him
in disapprobation, and then look approvingly at Wendelin, who was a true
royal child and never got his white hands dirty.

There was no doubt but that George was cast in a less aristocratic mould
than his brother. When Wendelin complained of the heat, George would
spring into the lake for a swim, and when Wendelin was freezing, George
would praise the fresh bracing air. The duchess often sighed for a
thousand eyes that she might the better look after him, and she
constantly had to scold and reprove him, whereas her other son never
heard anything but soft words from her. But then George would fly into
her arms in a most unprincely manner, and she would kiss him and hug him,
as if she never wanted to let him go, while her caresses of her elder son
were restricted to a kiss on his forehead, or to stroking his hair.