"Just a humorous emblem that the Euralians have raised over their camp," he said. "It wouldn't amuse your Majesty." "I am hardly in a mood for joking," said the King. "Let us return to business. As I was saying, you will announce to the people that the enormous sacrifice which their King is prepared to make for them consists of-- There they go again. I must really see what it is. Just pull the door back so that I may see without being seen." "It--it really wouldn't amuse your Majesty." "Are you implying that I have no sense of humour?" said the King sternly. "Oh, no, sire, but there are certain jokes, jokes in the poorest of taste, that would naturally not appeal to so delicate a palate as your Majesty's. This--er--strikes me as one of them." "Of that I am the best judge," said the King coldly. "Open the door at once." The Chancellor opened the door; and there before the King's eyes, flaunting themselves in the breeze beneath the Royal Standard of Euralia, waved his own beloved whiskers. The King of Barodia was not a lovable man, and his daughters were decidedly plain, but there are moments when one cannot help admiring him. This was one of them. "You may shut the door," he said to the Chancellor. "The instructions which I gave to you just now," he went on in the same cold voice, "are cancelled. Let me think for a moment." He began to walk up and down his apartment. "You may think, too," he added kindly. "If you have anything not entirely senseless to suggest, you may suggest it." He continued his pacings. Suddenly he came to a dead stop. He was standing in front of a large mirror. For the first time since he was seventeen he had seen his face without whiskers. His eyes still fixed on his reflection, he beckoned the Chancellor to approach. "Come here," he said, clutching him by the arm. "You see that?" He pointed to the reflection. "That is what I look like? The mirror hasn't made a mistake of any kind? That is really and truly what I look like?" "Yes, sire." For a little while the King continued to gaze fascinated at his reflection, and then he turned on the Chancellor. "You coward!" he said. "You weak-kneed, jelly-souled, paper-livered imitation of a man! You cringe to a King who looks like that! Why, you ought to _kick_ me." The Chancellor remembered that he had one kick owing to him. He drew back his foot, and then a thought occurred to him. "You might kick me back," he pointed out. "I certainly should," said the King. The Chancellor hesitated a moment. "I think," he said, "that these private quarrels in the face of the common enemy are to be deplored." The King looked at him, gave a short laugh, and went on walking up and down. "That face again," he sighed as he came opposite the mirror. "No, it's no good; I can never be King like this. I shall abdicate."