ends, it is taken from him, and then, not knowing that it is gone, he is in a far worse condition than before, for he trusts to what he has not got." "How dreadful!" said Curdie. "I must mind what I am about." "Yes, indeed, Curdie." "But may not one sometimes make a mistake without being able to help it?" "Yes. But so long as he is not after his own ends, he will never make a serious mistake." "I suppose you want me, ma'am, to warn every one whose hand tells me that he is growing a beast--because, as you say, he does not know it himself." The princess smiled. "Much good that would do, Curdie! I don't say there are no cases in which it would be of use, but they are very rare and peculiar cases, and if such come you will know them. To such a person there is in general no insult like the truth. He cannot endure it, not because he is growing a beast, but because he is ceasing to be a man. It is the dying man in him that it makes uncomfortable, and he trots, or creeps, or swims, or flutters out of its way--calls it a foolish feeling, a whim, an old wives' fable, a bit of priests' humbug, an effete superstition, and so on." "And is there no hope for him? Can nothing be done? It's so awful to think of going down, down, down like that!" "Even when it is with his own will?" "That's what seems to me to make it worst of all," said Curdie. "You are right," answered the princess, nodding her head; "but there is this amount of excuse to make for all such, remember--that they do not know what or how horrid their coming fate is. Many a lady, so delicate and nice that she can bear nothing coarser than the finest linen to touch her body, if she had a mirror that could show her the animal she is growing to, as it lies waiting within the fair skin and the fine linen and the silk and the jewels, would receive a shock that might possibly wake her up." "Why then, ma'am, shouldn't she have it?" The princess held her peace. "Come here, Lina," she said after a long pause. From somewhere behind Curdie, crept forward the same hideous animal which had fawned at his feet at the door, and which, without his knowing it, had followed him every step up the dove-tower. She ran to the princess, and lay down at her feet, looking up at her with an expression so pitiful that in Curdie's heart it overcame all the ludicrousness of her horrible mass of incongruities. She had a very short body, and very long legs made like an elephant's, so that in lying down she kneeled with both pairs. Her tail, which dragged on the floor behind her, was twice as long and quite as thick as her body. Her head was something between that of a polar bear and a snake. Her eyes were dark green, with a yellow light in them. Her under teeth came up like a fringe of icicles, only very white, outside of her upper lip. Her throat looked as if the hair had been plucked off. It showed a skin white and smooth. "Give Curdie a paw, Lina," said the princess.