A few minutes more and he was lying on the earth near the still pool he had seen the night before, his cheek resting on the cool moss, trying to realise and accept the loveless life which was all he had now left. Every hope was gone and the future lay before him like the vast, sterile desert he had lately crossed, bare and bleak. There was nothing to live for now, nothing. The fact rushed over him in its full meaning, and for the first time since his boyhood he burst into tears and sobbed like a little child. * * * * * After a while he remembered the mask which lay on the grass where he had left it. There was nothing for him to do but resume it and go back to the world with his old trouble unchanged; but, before rising, he went to bathe his heated eyes in the water and he leaned over the brink. Just as he put in his hand he saw that another face was looking up at him It startled him. Was it some poor, drowned man who lay staring up at the sky? Impossible, surely. None knew of this place but himself and that one stranger, and, moreover, there was no sign of death in those living eyes that met his own so fearlessly. He plunged down his hand and it only touched the bed of the pool; the water lay deep and still but for the ripples which his action had stirred into widening rings. He was simply bewildered. Still gazing downwards he drew his hand over his eyes, thinking they must be bewitched, and, as he did so, a hand passed over the face in the water. It could not be his own. He laughed bitterly at the idea. It had no resemblance to himself, and was the face of a handsome man, not a monster whose very look was unendurable. Thinking that he must be going mad, he felt the Golden Heart beating and fluttering against his breast. He wondered that he had forgotten it for so long as he took it out. “Am I crazed?” he asked excitedly. “What is this illusion?” “It is no illusion,” replied the voice, “but the truth. That face looking from the water is your own. Look once more, for the ripples have ceased.” The Prince obeyed. He saw the most noble countenance that it had ever entered his mind to imagine; no defect was there, no feature which was not perfection, and over all was an expression of such sublime grandeur, strength, and fortitude, that the Ugly Prince, ugly no longer, drew back, almost awed by what he saw. “It is only the reflection of your own great soul,” said the voice—and it seemed to fill the air around him—“what you see is the beauty of honour and truth, of courage and sacrifice, and there is nothing which can be compared to it in the whole world. Now rise, for you must go from here and begin your homeward journey. Go back to reap the reward which is awaiting you, for there is no reward too great for such as you.” * * * * *