“They were my brothers and sisters; I remember them,” said the Cockatrice. “I have them all in my mind’s eye. Call them--perhaps they will come and talk to you; you will find them very nice and friendly.” “They are too far off,” said Beppo, “they cannot hear me.” “Ah, yes,” murmured the Cockatrice, “memory is a wonderful thing!” When Beppo came down again he was quite giddy, and lost in wonder and joy over the beautiful green world the Cockatrice had shown him. “I like that better than this!” said he. “So do I,” said the Cockatrice. “But perhaps, when my tail gets free, I shall feel better.” One morning he said to Beppo: “I do really begin to feel my tail. It is somewhere away down the hill yonder. Go and look out for me, and tell me if you can see it moving.” So Beppo went to the mouth of the cave, and looked out towards the city, over all the rocks and ridges and goat-pastures and slopes of vine that lay between. Suddenly, as he looked, the steeple of the cathedral tottered, and down fell its weathercock and two of its pinnacles, and half the chimneys of the town snapped off their tops. All that distance away Beppo could hear the terrified screams of the inhabitants as they ran out of their houses in terror. “I’ve done it!” cried the Cockatrice, from within the cave. “But you mustn’t do that!” exclaimed Beppo in horror. “Mustn’t do what?” inquired the Cockatrice. “You mustn’t wag your tail! You don’t know what you are doing!” “Oh, master!” wailed the Cockatrice; “mayn’t I? For the first time this thousand years I have felt young again.” Beppo was pale and trembling with agitation over the fearful effects of that first tail-wagging. “You mustn’t feel young!” said he. “Why not?” asked the Cockatrice, with a piteous wail. “There isn’t room in the world for a Cockatrice to feel young nowadays,” answered Beppo gravely. “But, dear little master and benefactor,” cried the Cockatrice, “what did you wake me up for?” “I don’t know,” replied Beppo, terribly perplexed. “I wouldn’t have done it had I known where your tail was.” “Where is it?” inquired the Cockatrice, with great interest. “It’s right underneath the city where I mean to be king,” said Beppo; “and if you move it the city will come down; and then I shall have nothing to be king of.” “Very well,” said the Cockatrice sadly; “I will wait!” “Wait for what?” thought Beppo. “Waiting won’t do any good.” And he began to think what he must do. “You lie quite still!” said he to the Cockatrice. “Go to sleep, and I will still look after you.” “Oh, little master,” said the Cockatrice, “but it is difficult to go to sleep when the delicious trouble of spring is in one’s tail! How long does this city of yours mean to stay there? I am so alive that I find it hard to shut an eye!” “I will let the fires that keep you warm go down for a bit,” said Beppo, “and you mustn’t eat so much grass; then you will feel better, and your tail will be less of an anxiety.”