e side of his cradle to the other."

Griselda was momentarily alarmed, but Ambition only laughed.

"Nonsense," quoth Ambition, "'tis an old woman's fancy. This envious
old witch would have you disappoint the king--the king, who would load
you with riches and honors!"

So the day lengthened, and Griselda listened to the grateful flatteries
of Ambition. But Death sat all the time gazing steadfastly on the
little one in the cradle. The candles were brought, and Griselda
arrayed herself in her costliest robes.

"I must look my best," she said, "for this is to be the greatest
triumph of my life."

"You are very beautiful; you will captivate the king," said Ambition.

"The child is very ill," croaked old Charlotte, the nurse; "he does not
seem to be awake nor yet asleep, and there is a strange, hoarse
rattling in his breathing."

"For shame!" cried Ambition. "See how the glow of health mantles his
cheeks and how the fire of health burns in his eyes."

And Griselda believed the words of Ambition. She did not stoop to kiss
her little one. She called his name and threw him a kiss, and hastened
to her carriage in the street below. The child heard the mother's
voice, raised his head, and stretched forth his hands to Griselda, but
she was gone and Ambition had gone with her. But Death remained with
Griselda's little one.

The theatre was more brilliant that night than ever before. It had
been noised about that Griselda would sing for the king, and lords and
ladies in their most imposing raiment filled the great edifice to
overflowing, while in the royal box sat the king himself, with the
queen and the princes and the princesses.

"It will be a great triumph," said Ambition to Griselda, and Griselda
knew that she had never looked half so beautiful nor felt half so ready
for the great task she had to perform. There was mighty cheering when
she swept before the vast throng, and the king smiled and bowed when he
saw that Griselda wore about her neck the costly jewels he had sent
her. But if the applause was mighty when she appeared, what was it
when she finished her marvellous song and bowed herself from the stage!
Thrice was she compelled to repeat the song, and a score of times was
she recalled to receive the homage of the delighted throng. Bouquets
of beautiful flowers were heaped about her feet, and with his own hand
from his box the king threw to her a jewelled necklace far costlier
than his previous gift.