“Never mind about its food, just now!” the Emperor interrupted. “Let us return to the Banquet. Brother, will you lead the way?” And the old man, attended by his children, headed the procession down stairs. “See the fate of a loveless life!” he said to Bruno, as they returned to their places. To which Bruno made reply, “I always loved Sylvie, so I’ll never get prickly like that!” “He _is_ prickly, certainly,” said the Professor, who had caught the last words, “but we must remember that, however porcupiny, he is royal still! After this feast is over, I’m going to take a little present to Prince Uggug—just to soothe him, you know: it isn’t pleasant living in a cage.” “What’ll you give him for a birthday-present?” Bruno enquired. “A small saucer of chopped carrots,” replied the Professor. “In giving birthday-presents, _my_ motto is—cheapness! I should think I save forty pounds a year by giving—oh, _what_ a twinge of pain!” “What is it?” said Sylvie anxiously. “My old enemy!” groaned the Professor. “Lumbago—rheumatism—that sort of thing. I think I’ll go and lie down a bit.” And he hobbled out of the Saloon, watched by the pitying eyes of the two children. “He’ll be better soon!” the Elfin-King said cheerily. “Brother!” turning to the Emperor, “I have some business to arrange with you to-night. The Empress will take care of the children.” And the two Brothers went away together, arm-in-arm. The Empress found the children rather sad company. They could talk of nothing but “the dear Professor,” and “what a pity he’s so ill!”, till at last she made the welcome proposal “Let’s go and see him!” The children eagerly grasped the hands she offered them: and we went off to the Professor’s study, and found him lying on the sofa, covered up with blankets, and reading a little manuscript-book. “Notes on Vol. Three!” he murmured, looking up at us. And there, on a table near him, lay the book he was seeking when first I saw him. “And how are you now, Professor?” the Empress asked, bending over the invalid. The Professor looked up, and smiled feebly. “As devoted to your Imperial Highness as ever!” he said in a weak voice. “All of me, that is not Lumbago, is Loyalty!” “A sweet sentiment!” the Empress exclaimed with tears in her eyes. “You seldom hear anything so beautiful as that—even in a Valentine!” “We must take you to stay at the seaside,” Sylvie said, tenderly. “It’ll do you ever so much good! And the Sea’s so grand!” “But a Mountain’s grander!” said Bruno. “What is there grand about the Sea?” said the Professor. “Why, you could put it all into a teacup!” “_Some_ of it,” Sylvie corrected him. “Well, you’d only want a certain number of tea-cups to hold it _all_. And _then_ where’s the grandeur? Then as to a Mountain—why, you could carry it all away in a wheel-barrow, in a certain number of years!” “It wouldn’t look grand—the bits of it in the wheel-barrow,” Sylvie candidly admitted. “But when oo put it together again——” Bruno began.