are to be
opened and then burned to ashes. From this time forth no more blood
shall be shed!"

"Oh, my Lord--my Prince--!" whispered Michael Petroff as he wrote.

"There shall no longer be an army in our land and no man shall go
begging with his bowl. The treasure in our vaults shall be equally
shared among our people. Neither castes nor classes shall exist from
this time forth. All men shall be equal and all shall be brothers and
sisters.

"The aged shall have their huts to die in, and to the children we
bequeath the meadows to play in. To the sick we grant health, and to
the unhappy sleep, quiet sleep. There shall be no more war and no more
hatred between the peoples, whatever their color, for so we decree. The
judges shall be wise and just, and to evil doers one must say: Go and
be happy, for unhappiness causes evil doing.

"To mankind we grant the earth, that they may occupy the same, to the
fish we give the waters and the sea, to the birds the heavens, and to
the beasts the forests, and the meadows that lie hidden amongst them!

"But you, our own people, we bless and kiss you, for we are dying."

The "Rajah" raised his hands in benediction and sank back upon the
pillows.

All who were present remained motionless and gazed at him. His chest
rose and fell feebly and rapidly while his lids drooped over his eyes
and showed like bright spots in his dark face.

Dr. Maerz stepped gently to the bedside.

Just then the "Rajah" smiled. He threw his head back and opened his
lips, as if he were going to sing. But only a thin, musical cry passed
his lips, so high, so thin and so far away that it seemed as if the
"Rajah" were already calling from some distant realm. It was the cry of
the street venders in the Orient.

The "Rajah" was dead.

Michael Petroff stood on tiptoes and gazed with parted lips at the
pale, mysteriously beautiful face that shone beneath the rich dark
hair. He felt a sense of shame. He had lived so long with him who was
now dead, without realizing who he was. He longed to kneel beside the
dead man's bed and whisper: "Prince, my Prince!" But he did not dare to
approach, he was afraid and stole out of the room.

After a while, when Dr. Maerz stepped out into the corridor, he was
impressed by the quiet that reigned in the ward. There was not a sound
to be heard. The muffled tread overhead, that had paced back and forth
for hours, was still. And Engelhardt had ceased crying and groaning.

Dr.