"Old woman, you will be kind enough not to say, 'the baby,' but 'the Prince.' Keep away; his Royal Highness is just going to sleep." "I must kiss him, I am his godmother." "You!" cried the elegant lady-nurse. "You!!" cried all the Court and the heralds began to blow the silver trumpets, to stop the conversation. As the procession formed to return, the old woman stood on the topmost step, and stretched herself on tiptoe by the help of her stick, and gave the little Prince three kisses. "Take yourself out of the way," cried the nurse, "or the king shall be informed immediately." "The King knows nothing of me," replied the old woman, with an indifferent air. "My friend in the palace is the King's wife. I know her Majesty well, and I love her and her child. And since you dropped him on the marble stairs I choose to take him for my own. I am his godmother, ready to help him whenever he wants me." "You help him!" cried the group laughing. The little old woman paid no attention and her soft grey eyes were fixed on the Prince, who smiled back at her. "His Majesty shall hear of this," said a gentleman-in-waiting. "His Majesty will hear quite enough news in a minute or two," said the old woman sadly, kissing the little Prince on the forehead. "Be Prince Dolor, in memory of your mother Dolorez." Everybody started. "Old woman, you are exceedingly ill-bred," cried a lady-in-waiting. "Even if you did know, how dared you presume to hint that her most gracious Majesty is called Dolorez?" "Was called Dolorez," said the old woman with a tender solemnity. The first gentleman, called the Gold-stick-in-waiting, raised the stick to strike her, and all the rest stretched out their hands to seize her; but the gray mantle melted from between their fingers; and there came a heavy, muffled sound. The great bell of the palace--the bell which was only heard on the death of some of the Royal family, and for as many times as he or she was years old--began to toll. They listened. Some one counted: "one-two-three-four"--up to nine and twenty--just the Queen's age. The Queen, her Majesty, was dead. In the midst of the festivities she had passed away. When the little prince was carried back to his mother's room, there was no mother to kiss him. As for his godmother--the little old woman in grey, nobody knew what became of her. [Illustration: "I MUST KISS HIM, I AM HIS GODMOTHER." [PAGE 7.]] CHAPTER II. It could not be said that the Prince missed his mother; children of his age cannot do that; but somehow, after she died everything seemed to go wrong with him. From a beautiful baby he became pale and sickly, seeming to have almost ceased growing, especially in his legs, which had been so fat and strong. But after the day of his christening they withered, and when he was nearly a year old, and his nurse tried to make him stand, he only tumbled down.