My daughter ran to him and put her arm about him. He was alive, and he shook his head and moaned, “I want my father. I want my father.” “Yes,” said she, “your father. Is he--?” “In there,” he whispered. “Ah! He is--” “Under the wall. I saw it fall on him. He is in there.” “Oh, my poor boy!” “I killed him. And all I wanted was to make him good.” She put her arm under him and raised him, and he stood up. “Come with me, dear boy,” said she. “I can’t go away. I can’t leave him in there. Can’t you help me to see him?” “Not now, but later, perhaps. Come with me now, and we will talk of him together.” “He loved me, too. He did, didn’t he? And I killed him.” “Yes, he did, he did. But you mustn’t say that you--” “It wasn’t because I meant to harm him, was it? I wouldn’t have harmed him, would I?” “No, no. It was just because you loved him, that was all.” “Yes, that was it. That was all it was.” He suffered her to lead him away, and he said nothing more, but repeated to himself, once or twice, “That was all it was.” On my part, I spoke at length to the Blind Bowler, and gave him many directions; and he, having received at my hands a purse of gold, for use as I had instructed him, went his way; and we others then walked slowly back to the palace, where we rested on the steps, waiting, and Figli fell asleep with his head on my daughter’s shoulder. When the sun was high in the east, people began to come in at the park gate, and the Blind Bowler, his first duty done, joined us on the palace steps. More people came, and the park began to be filled with them; they came before long in a steady stream, and at length the park was crowded with a great multitude, from the steps to the gate. At a signal from myself, my party on the steps arose, and I addressed the people of Oogh. I told them who I was, and how my skin had come to be black; I told them that I was going away, and that their governor was resolved to go with me; that I meant to leave a governor who would help them rebuild their city, and lead them in the ways of goodness and mercy; that the person whom I had selected for that office was the boy known as Figli Babadag, whose soundness of heart was worth to them more than the wisdom of years; and that such wisdom as was necessary would be supplied by him who was called the Blind Bowler, a man who had known how to be cheerful under affliction. And I asked them to say whether they would have the boy Figli for their governor, and the Blind Bowler for his aide. A shout of approval went up from the multitude. “And will you,” said I, turning to Figli, “lead these people in the ways of goodness and mercy, and help them to forget?” “If you think I can,” said Figli, standing up very straight, “I will try.” “And will you,” said I to the Blind Bowler, “keep faithfully at his right hand, and never fail him?” “That I will!” said the Blind Bowler. “Keep everlastingly at it, that’s the motto!”