They were standing just under something that looked in the half light like a great block of stone on the top of which there was an object which neither of them could see distinctly. Taking hands they moved backwards a few steps, and again looked up. The silver-green moonlight, streaming in from some window high above their heads, fell full upon the face, and part of the body of a marble horse. The statue aloft upon its pedestal looked very grand and majestic. But, as even in the dim light, the children could see, it was only after all a _fragment_ of a statue. “What a lovely horse. But he’s broken,” exclaimed Diana, still in a low voice. “Isn’t it a pity? There’s only his face and a piece of his body left. I wonder how he got broken?” Before she had finished speaking, Rachel suddenly squeezed her friend’s hand with a tight clasp. “Look! Look!” she whispered, scarcely able to speak for excitement. For the strangest thing was happening. A kind of pearly mist was gathering to form the missing body of the horse, and presently out of the mist, his face, no longer a marble one, but quivering with life, looked out. He shook his head and the metal curb in his mouth rattled as he fixed his great dark liquid eyes upon the children. “He’s coming down,” cried Diana, half excited, half afraid. Quickly she leapt back to make room for him, dragging Rachel with her. In less than a second, with a bound so rapid that they could scarcely see how he left the pedestal, a graceful, beautiful white horse stood on the pavement before them, gently pawing the ground, and moving his head slowly from side to side. And then, marvel of marvels, he _spoke_. “Have no fear, O little ones,” they heard, in a tone soft, yet distinct. “I am here at the bidding of your friend, Sheshà—greatest of magicians.” Rachel glanced triumphantly at Diana, as if to say, “I told you so.” And the beautiful steed went on: “For this one night I am your slave. Command me. What is it you wish to know, or to see?” Diana pinched Rachel’s wrist as a sign for her to speak, and after a moment she said timidly: “We would like to know about _you_ first. Why were you on that pedestal? And all broken? Where do you come from?” “Something of my history, little maidens, you shall hear later. For the present, be content to know that you behold in me a horse as famous as he is beautiful.” This was said very simply, and the children could well believe its truth, for never had they seen such a lovely creature as that now standing before them. His coat, smooth and soft as ivory satin, gleamed in the moonlight. His limbs were strong, yet formed with perfect grace, and his dark, lovely eyes shone in a face that was at the same time gentle and full of intelligence. “I don’t wonder that someone made a statue of you,” exclaimed Diana. “But what a pity it’s so broken. How did it get broken?”