"The princess is weak and much depressed," he said, "and will require care for awhile; but I see no cause for anxiety. Naturally, the poor child is terribly upset. She grieves, too, about the condition of the king her father, and wishes to help nurse him, but this she has not strength for at present. Patience, my son. Be patient and of good heart." He looked with pity and concern at Leonard's haggard face with its hollow, dark-ringed eyes and its worn-out look. "You have suffered--cruelly--I can see," he added, placing his hand gently on the young man's shoulder. "You have been sorely tried." "Ah!" returned Leonard with a heavy sigh. "You cannot imagine what I have been through! My thoughts still dwell upon the horror of it; my eyes still see the sights I gazed upon! I feel as though I shall never be my old self again. And Ulama! Though I do not yet know how much she saw or knew, I sadly believe she shares my feelings." "You are both worn out--exhausted, my son. Wait but a space--while I speak to the crowd and dismiss them--and then I will give you a cordial and refreshment; after that you must lie down and have a long sleep." "I fear even to sleep," said Leonard, shaking his head sadly. "I dread the thought of sleep, for I know but too well what my dreams will be." "Nay, my son, have no fear. I will promise you dreamless, restful sleep," Monella answered, and moved away to the front of the terrace. At the sight of his commanding form and upraised hand the shouts and noise and all the subdued roar that till now had been continuous were hushed. Then, as with one accord, all uncovered and fell upon their knees. He spoke a few brief words and then dismissed them, pointing out that his friends were in need of rest and quiet.