She held out her hand. "I am not the _little_ princess any more. I have grown up since I saw you last, Mr. Miner." The smile which accompanied the words had in it a strange mixture of playfulness and sadness. "So I see, Miss Princess," returned Curdie; "and therefore, being more of a princess, you are the more my princess. Here I am, sent by your great-great-grandmother, to be your servant.--May I ask why you are up so late, princess?" "Because my father wakes _so_ frightened, and I don't know what he _would_ do if he didn't find me by his bedside. There! he's waking now." She darted off to the side of the bed she had come from. Curdie stood where he was. A voice altogether unlike what he remembered of the mighty, noble king on his white horse came from the bed, thin, feeble, hollow, and husky, and in tone like that of a petulant child:-- "I will not, I will not. I am a king, and I _will_ be a king. I hate you and despise you, and you shall not torture me!" "Never mind them, father dear," said the princess. "I am here, and they shan't touch you. They dare not, you know, so long as you defy them." "They want my crown, darling; and I can't give them my crown, can I? for what is a king without his crown?" "They shall never have your crown, my king," said Irene. "Here it is--all safe, you see. I am watching it for you." Curdie drew near the bed on the other side. There lay the grand old king--he looked grand still, and twenty years older. His body was pillowed high; his beard descended long and white over the crimson coverlid; and his crown, its diamonds and emeralds gleaming in the twilight of the curtains, lay in front of him, his long, thin old hands folded round the rigol, and the ends of his beard straying among the lovely stones. His face was like that of a man who had died fighting nobly; but one thing made it dreadful: his eyes, while they moved about as if searching in this direction and in that, looked more dead than his face. He saw neither his daughter nor his crown: it was the voice of the one and the touch of the other that comforted him. He kept murmuring what seemed words, but was unintelligible to Curdie, although, to judge from the look of Irene's face, she learned and concluded from it. By degrees his voice sank away and the murmuring ceased, although still his lips moved. Thus lay the old king on his bed, slumbering with his crown between his hands; on one side of him stood a lovely little maiden, with blue eyes, and brown hair going a little back from her temples, as if blown by a wind that no one felt but herself; and on the other a stalwart young miner, with his mattock over his shoulder. Stranger sight still was Lina lying along the threshold--only nobody saw her just then. A moment more and the king's lips ceased to move. His breathing had grown regular and quiet. The princess gave a sigh of relief, and came round to Curdie.