And Griselda believed the words of Ambition. She did not stoop to kiss her little one. She called his name and threw him a kiss, and hastened to her carriage in the street below. The child heard the mother's voice, raised his head, and stretched forth his hands to Griselda, but she was gone and Ambition had gone with her. But Death remained with Griselda's little one. The theatre was more brilliant that night than ever before. It had been noised about that Griselda would sing for the king, and lords and ladies in their most imposing raiment filled the great edifice to overflowing, while in the royal box sat the king himself, with the queen and the princes and the princesses. "It will be a great triumph," said Ambition to Griselda, and Griselda knew that she had never looked half so beautiful nor felt half so ready for the great task she had to perform. There was mighty cheering when she swept before the vast throng, and the king smiled and bowed when he saw that Griselda wore about her neck the costly jewels he had sent her. But if the applause was mighty when she appeared, what was it when she finished her marvellous song and bowed herself from the stage! Thrice was she compelled to repeat the song, and a score of times was she recalled to receive the homage of the delighted throng. Bouquets of beautiful flowers were heaped about her feet, and with his own hand from his box the king threw to her a jewelled necklace far costlier than his previous gift. As Griselda hurried from her dressing-room to her carriage she marvelled that Ambition had suddenly and mysteriously quitted her presence. In his place stood the figure of a woman, all in black, and with large, sad eyes and pale face. "Who are you?" asked Griselda. "I am the Spirit of Eternal Sorrow," said the woman. And the strange, sad woman went with Griselda into the carriage and to Griselda's home. Old Charlotte, the nurse, met them at the door. She was very white and she trembled as if with fear. Then Griselda seemed to awaken from a dream. "My child?" she asked, excitedly. "He is gone," replied old Charlotte, the nurse. Griselda flew to the chamber where she had left him. There stood the little cradle where he had lain, but the cradle was empty. "Who has taken him away?" cried Griselda, sinking upon her knees and stretching her hands in agony to heaven. "Death took him away but an hour ago," said old Charlotte, the nurse. Then Griselda thought of his fevered face and his pitiful little moans and sighs; of the guileful flatteries of Ambition that had deafened her mother ears to the pleadings of her sick babe; of the brilliant theatre and the applause of royalty and of the last moments of her lonely, dying child. And Griselda arose and tore the jewels from her breast and threw them far from her and cried: "O God, it is my punishment! I am alone." "Nay, not so, O mother," said a solemn voice; "I am with thee and will abide with thee forever."