“Why must there be no lights?” asked Harry. “Because we think in Hesse that at midnight when the blessed day is just born the Christ comes to the door and blesses the home. As He is the light of the world there must be no other light but the fire for warmth, like the comforting of His love for all, all of us. But now I must not be interrupted.” “If Bill does it again,” said the other twin, “I will----” “Just you try,” returned Bill. “I shall thrash you both,” said Tom. “You can’t!” On this the mother said they should all three go to bed if they spoke a word in the next half-hour. Upon this there was silence and only the occasional interchange of such warlike signals as are well known to boys. The Count went on, the three lads now eagerly attentive, while Verney sat by giving at need a faint whistle to check or lower the fine snoring of the Colonel. “Once upon a time in old days there was a King, and the time it was once upon was Christmas Eve. Then, as was the custom, Rathumus, the maker of stories for the King, came to him and said, ‘Come with me that under the stars I tell you the Christmas tale.’ The King went with him into the garden. “‘This,’ said the teller of tales, ‘O King, is the night of all nights that brings to men wise counsel for their own birthdays, when kings who are merciful set free many who are in prison for debt.’ “‘But now in this kingdom on the birthday of the Christ, the King of Kings, a hundred couriers sit on their horses at the gate waiting for a message of pardon and release to all who are in prisons for wrong-doing or for having displeased my lord the King. This is the law of the land. But if the King in his wrath has one he will not set free, then none are released, and the couriers ride sad to the homes of those who bide in sorrow.’ “On this the maker of stories went away and the King stayed alone in the garden. It was very quiet and the stars watched him to see what would come, for now it was near to midnight, and over all the land many who knew of the custom stood at their doors longing to see the white-robed couriers arrive with news of pardon on that Christmas Day. “Now there is always for every man some woman of whom he is afraid, and so it was with the King. It was not the Queen, because she was dead, but it was the King’s daughter, who wanted to marry a brave young Prince, and was angry because the King saw no way to prevent it except to keep him shut up in a high tower. “The stars all felt sorry when the King cried out, ‘Never will I let him out--never!’ “Then a little wind sobbed through the trees and was still and the roses in the shadows prayed and the nightingales ceased to sing. There was a great quietness. “The King sat down on a seat and was angry with the custom and with himself, and shut his eyes and thought, for now he must decide. If he would not set free the Prince there would be no Christmas prayers for him in all the wide land. But no, he would not free the Prince.