ndoubtedly come into the world under inauspicious
signs. In the ducal palace itself the joy was not unclouded, and it was
precisely the most faithful and devoted of the servants who seemed most
depressed, and who held long conferences together.

Both of the boys were well formed and healthy, but the second-born
lacked the grey curl which heretofore had never failed to mark each
new-born Greylock.

Pepe, the Major-domo, who was a direct descendant of George, the squire,
and who knew the history of the ducal family better than any one else,
for he had learned it from his grandfather, was so dejected that one
would have imagined a great misfortune had befallen him, and in the
evenings, when he sat over his wine in company with the Keeper of the
Cellar, the Keeper of the Plate and the Decker of the Table, he could
not resist giving expression to his presentiments. His conviction that
Bad Luck had knocked at the door of the hitherto fortunate Greylocks was
finally shared by his companions.

That an unhappy future awaited the second boy was the firm belief, not
only of the servants, but of the whole Court. The unlucky horoscope cast
by the Astrologer was known to all, the wise men of the land confirmed
it by their predictions, and soon it was proved that even the fairy
Clementine was powerless to avert the misfortune that threatened the
youngest prince. On the day of the baptism, neither the gentle tinkling
sound, nor the sweet perfume, which had heretofore announced her
presence, were perceptible. That she had not deserted the ducal house
altogether was shown by the fact that the lock on the temple of the
first-born twined itself into a perfect curl. The lock on the left
temple of the second son remained brown, and not a sign of grey could be
discovered even with a magnifying glass. The heart of the young mother
was filled with alarm, and she called the old nurse who had taken care
of her dead husband when he was a baby, to ask her what had happened at
his baptism, and the old woman burst into tears, and ended by betraying
the gloomy forecasts of the Astrologer and wise men. That a Greylock
should go through life without the white curl was unheard of, was awful!
And the old nurse called the poor little creature, "an ill-starred
child, a dear pitiable princeling."

Then the mother recalled her last dream, in which she had seen a dragon
attack her youngest boy. A great fear possessed her heart, and she bade
them bring the