outside the baker's door when the baker was not looking and tried
to keep himself warm by flapping his wings.

But at last he knew that he was going to die. He had just strength
to fly up to the Prince's shoulder once more. "Good-bye, dear
Prince!" he murmured, "will you let me kiss your hand?"

"I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow,"
said the Prince, "you have stayed too long here; but you must kiss
me on the lips, for I love you."

"It is not to Egypt that I am going," said the Swallow. "I am
going to the House of Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he
not?"

And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at
his feet.

At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if
something had broken. The fact is that the leaden heart had
snapped right in two. It certainly was a dreadfully hard frost.

Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in
company with the Town Councillors. As they passed the column he
looked up at the statue: "Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince
looks!" he said.

"How shabby indeed!" cried the Town Councillors, who always agreed
with the Mayor; and they went up to look at it.