So, between the sweetness of the boy's temper and of his dear mother's love which folded him close, the bitter was turned into sweet within him. But Ursula, who heard the mocking of the boys with indignation, was not so wise in her consolations. "Wicked, envious little devils!" said she. "Never thou heed them, my lamb! They would be glad enough, any of them, to be the master's angel, or Dwarf Hans' darling, for that matter, if they could. It is nothing but mean envy and spite, my little prince, my little wonder; never thou heed them!" And then the enemy crept unperceived into the child's heart. Was he indeed a little prince and a wonder, on his platform of gifts and goodness? And were all those naughty boys far below him, in another sphere, hating him as the little devils in the mystery-plays seemed to hate and torment the saints? Had the "raven" been sent to him, after all, as to the prophet of old, not only because he was hungry and pitied by God, but because he was good and a favorite of God? It seemed clear he was something quite out of the common. He seemed the favorite of every one, except those few envious, wicked boys. The great ladies of the city entreated for him to come and sing at their feasts; and all their guests stopped in the midst of their eager talk to listen to him, and they gave him sweetmeats and praised him to the skies, and they offered him wine from their silver flagons, and when he refused it, as his mother bade him, they praised him more than ever, and once the host himself, the burgomaster, emptied the silver flagon of the wine he had refused, and told him to take it home to his mother and tell her she had a child whose dutifulness was worth more than all the silver in the city. But when he told his mother this, instead of looking delighted, as he expected, she looked grave, and almost severe, and said: "You only did your duty, my boy. It would have been a sin and a shame to do otherwise. And, of course, you would not for the world." "Certainly I would not, mother," he said. But he felt a little chilled. Did his mother think it was always so easy for boys to do their duty? and that every one did it? Other people seemed to think it a very uncommon and noble thing to do one's duty. And what, indeed, could the blessed saints do more? So the slow poison of praise crept into the boy's heart. And while he thought his life was being filled with light, unknown to him the shadows were deepening,--the one shadow which eclipses the sun, the terrible shadow of self. For he could not but be conscious how, even in the cathedral, a kind of hush and silence fell around when he began to sing.