threshold, with her back to it, sat the figure of the wise woman,
muffled in her dark cloak, with her head bowed over her knees. As
the king stood looking at her, she rose slowly, crossed the hall,
and walked away down the marble staircase. The king called to her;
but she never turned her head, or gave the least sign that she heard
him. So quietly did she pass down the wide marble stair, that the
king was all but persuaded he had seen only a shadow gliding across
the white steps.

For the princess, she was nowhere to be found. The queen went into
hysterics; and the rabbit ran away. The king sent out messengers in
every direction, but in vain.

In a short time the palace was quiet--as quiet as it used to be
before the princess was born. The king and queen cried a little now
and then, for the hearts of parents were in that country strangely
fashioned; and yet I am afraid the first movement of those very
hearts would have been a jump of terror if the ears above them had
heard the voice of Rosamond in one of the corridors. As for the rest
of the household, they could not have made up a single tear amongst
them. They thought, whatever it might be for the princess, it was,
for every one else, the best thing that could have happened; and as
to what had become of her, if their heads were puzzled, their hearts
took no interest in the question. The lord-chancellor alone had an
idea about it, but he was far too wise to utter it.