He saw that he stood in the midst of so wonderful a piece of scenery that he could hardly believe himself awake. Just in front of him appeared the rock which the Golden Heart had described as being like the entrance to a tomb. It rose upwards out of a deep, dark pool, and a great star which stood in silver radiance over the summit threw a long steel-blue reflection trailing across the silent water. Down the face of the rock, and all round on a tangle of low bushes which closed him in on every side, hung thick wreaths of white convolvulus; strange lights flashed in and out among the heavy foliage, and from the blossoms rolled drops of scented dew like the tears of a weeping enchantress. The air was faint with enchantment; the Ugly Prince felt a languor creeping over his body. His senses seemed to be fading from him, and, fearing that he might be overcome by the strange atmosphere of the place, he dashed through the bushes towards an open space not far off. There his eyes fell on a tall, solitary plant growing in the very centre of the clearing, and perceiving it to be none other than the object of his search, he threw himself upon the ground beside it, took the Golden Heart from his bosom and pressed it to his lips, covering it with passionate kisses. His journey was done, his troubles ended; he had now only to wait till the plant had grown as high as his knee to bathe his face in the juice of the berries and all would be well. He would go back across the desert, through the Great Gates and over the world to his Princess’s kingdom, a changed man, with his happiness lying before him. He pictured the joy of the King, the delight of the faithful little boy who awaited him, and the clinging arms of his adored Princess, as he lay hour after hour beside the green stem and watched it grow taller and saw the berries begin to take shape and colour. At last, it had grown almost to the height of his knee, and, as he sat waiting in the breaking daylight for the moment when he should pluck his treasure, the Prince heard footsteps behind him, and, springing to his feet, beheld a tattered figure which started on seeing him, and then, with a long cry, fell prostrate upon the earth. In a moment he was beside it and raising in his arms a man still young, but so bowed and emaciated by illness and trouble, that he seemed scarcely able to stand. “Leave me! leave me!” he cried, as the Ugly Prince held him in the grasp of his strong arms. “What brings you here? Have you, too, come for the plant—the magic plant?” “I have,” said the Prince firmly. The unhappy man dropped his hands. “Then I am too late,” he cried, “and I must die—for what can I do against _you_?” And he glanced from his own trembling form to the straight, strong limbs of the Ugly Prince. And he bowed his head and wept till the Prince’s heart bled to hear him. “I beseech you, stop your tears,” he said kindly, “and tell me what has brought you here?”