Of course, nobody hinted this to the King his father: it does not do to tell great people anything unpleasant. And besides, his Majesty took very little notice of his son, or of his other affairs, beyond the necessary duties of his kingdom. People had said he would not miss the Queen at all, she having been so long an invalid: but he did. After her death he never was quite the same. He established himself in her empty rooms, the only rooms in the palace whence one could see the Beautiful Mountains, and was often observed looking at them as if he thought she had flown away thither, and that his longing could bring her back again. And by a curious coincidence, which nobody dared to inquire into, he desired that the Prince might be called, not by any of the four-and-twenty grand names given him by his godfathers and godmothers, but by the identical name mentioned by the little old woman in grey,--Dolor, after his mother Dolorez. Once a week, according to established state custom, the Prince, dressed in his very best, was brought to the King his father for half-an-hour, but his Majesty was generally too ill and too melancholy to pay much heed to the child. Only once, when he and the Crown Prince, who was exceedingly attentive to his royal brother, were sitting together, with Prince Dolor playing in a corner of the room, dragging himself about with his arms rather than his legs, and sometimes trying feebly to crawl from one chair to another, it seemed to strike the father that all was not right with his son. "How old is his Royal Highness?" said he suddenly to the nurse. "Two years, three months, and five days, please your Majesty." [Illustration: _"How old is his Royal Highness?" said he suddenly to the nurse._] "It does not please me," said the King with a sigh. "He ought to be far more forward than he is now, ought he not, brother? You, who have so many children, must know. Is there not something wrong about him?" "Oh, no," said the Crown Prince, exchanging meaning looks with the nurse, who did not understand at all, but stood frightened and trembling with the tears in her eyes. "Nothing to make your Majesty at all uneasy. No doubt his Royal Highness will outgrow it in time." "Outgrow--what?" "A slight delicacy--ahem!--in the spine; something inherited, perhaps, from his dear mother." "Ah, she was always delicate; but she was the sweetest woman that ever lived. Come here, my little son." And as the Prince turned round upon his father a small, sweet, grave face--so like his mother's--his Majesty the King smiled and held out his arms. But when the boy came to him, not running like a boy, but wriggling awkwardly along the floor, the royal countenance clouded over. "I ought to have been told of this. It is terrible--terrible! And for a prince, too! Send for all the doctors in my kingdom immediately."