Overjoyed at so gracious an answer, Prince Radiance drew still nearer to the glowing flame. “Ah, my beloved Princess,” he cried, “something tells me that I shall not fail. I shall return indeed, and in my hand shall be the Veil that will set you free. Farewell, then, till I come again.” Then he left her, a gleaming whiteness at the foot of the great fire-oak, and went his way as the fairy had directed him. It was not long until he arrived at the house of the Wise One. A queer little scarlet hut, it was, set in the midst of a thicket of flaming bushes, with a bright red path that led straight to the door. The path was worn and hollowed out by many feet. From the pointed chimney, and the quaintly peaked roof, down all the walls to the very ground, the hut was covered with magic signs that no one but the Wise One himself understood. Boldly the Prince approached the door, and knocked. A voice bade him enter. The Prince obeyed, and found himself in the presence of an old, old fairy, who was sitting before a table, poring over a great Book of Wisdom. It was the Wise One. He wore a long white beard, that swept down his scarlet robe almost to his feet. A curious border of fairy letters ran about the hem of his robe, and as he rose slowly to greet his guest, they flashed and moved as if with life. A wave of magic flowed from them toward the Prince. “Welcome, Prince Radiance,” said the Wise One, “I know your errand. Come, let us see if you will be able to succeed where others have failed.” “Ah, that it may be so!” exclaimed the Prince, following the Wise One, who led him to a chest that stood in a corner of the hut. A very ancient chest it was, carved deeply with magic inscriptions that age had had no power to dim. Huge hinges held it firm; a huge lock fastened it. The Prince looked down upon it with eager hope. He trembled a little as the Wise One drew from his breast a key, and fitted it in the lock. Slowly the key turned. Slowly the lid rose of itself. “Look within,” commanded the Wise One, “and tell me what you see.” In breathless suspense, Prince Radiance bent over the chest, hoping--fearing--so much hung upon his power to behold what lay therein. The light was dim, and the chest deep. For a moment he saw no more than what looked like a film of ash upon the bottom of the chest, and through his heart went a stab of pain and disappointment. Then, suddenly, his sight seemed to clear. “The Veil! The mystic Veil!” he cried. “There! There it lies! I see it! Oh, I see!” “Look again,” said the Wise One. “Do you see nothing more?” Again Prince Radiance bent above the chest; again he peered earnestly into its depths. Dimly discerned beside the Veil lay a sword in its scabbard, and close beside it a soft grey pouch. “A sword is there, and a curious pouch,” he answered.