"There are many reasons," said the old man, "why it should be so, and among the chief of these is this one. When our Prince left us, he gave to each of his adherents a precious gift as a token of his love, and a sign by which we may know each other." As he spoke, he drew aside his poor garment, and on his breast there sparkled a gem more brilliant than any star or decoration I had ever seen. "This is the star of the King's own order," he said. And as I looked at it, a wonderful transformation seemed to have taken place in the old man's dress. His poor convict's garb seemed metamorphosed into the richest robes, such as princes wore in that southern land, of the costliest materials, and all of a glistening white, at once royal and bridal, whilst his chain glittered like a jewelled bracelet. The veteran smiled at my surprise, and unclasping his jewel, bound it on his brow. Instantly the same magical change passed over his face. Noble as it was before, his countenance now shone as if it had been the face of an angel. Every trace of care or age was effaced, the eyes shone under the calm, unfurrowed brow with the sparkle of early youth, and nothing was left to indicate age but a depth in the glance and a history in the expression, which youth cannot have. "But," I said, "surely your enemies must seek to rob you of such a treasure?" "Try," he replied, "if you can take it from me." I endeavoured gently to detach the jewel from his brow, but my fingers had scarcely touched it, when it sprang up like glittering drops from a fountain, and was gone, yet leaving the glory on the old man's face. He smiled, and observed quietly, "Our jewel no man taketh from us." Then, again unclasping the fillet which had bound it round his brow, the magic gem reappeared in his hand. It was mid-day, and the usual fare of the convicts was brought to him—scanty and coarse fare, with bad water. He humbly and thankfully partook of the poor food, but poured out the contents of the cup on the ground. "The water of this land is bad," he said. "The people render it palatable by mixing it with a fiery stimulant, which, alas! only increases their thirst, so that they ever thirst again; but we do not need this." Then gently laying his finger on the gem, it expanded, like a lily-bell in the sun, into a crystal vase, and in it bubbled up a miniature fountain of pure, sparkling water. "In us a well of water springing up," he murmured, as if to himself, as he drank and was refreshed. And touching the vase again, it folded up, like a convolvulus going to sleep when the sun sets. I wondered he had not had the courtesy to offer me a draught. He read my thoughts, and said, "This water is untransferable. Each of us must have his own jewel."