theirs beyond a
doubt; then she could use the mirror to gratify the desire of her heart.

When George walked along dejectedly, she thought: "Is that my heedless
boy?" and when he looked about him gaily once more to see what mischief
he could get into, she rejoiced, yet it troubled her, too, to have him
appear so free from all grief, she feared that he might have entirely
forgotten her.

All the expeditions that she sent in search of him were fruitless; but
she knew from the glass that he had become apprentice to a stone-mason
and had hard work to do. This made her very sad. He was indeed a child
born to misfortune, and when she saw him eat out of the same bowl with
his companions, food so coarse, that her very dogs would have despised
it, she felt that the misery into which he had fallen was too deep, too
awful. Yet, strange to relate, he always seemed gay, despite these ills,
whereas Wendelin, the heir to the throne, grew more peevish every day.

The duchy of this fortunate youth had been enlarged by the late
successful war, and the assembly of the states of the empire was
debating whether it should not be made a kingdom. He possessed
everything that it was in the power of man to desire, and yet, with each
new month, he seemed to become more unhappy and dejected.

When the heir to the throne drove out in his gilt coach and the duchess
heard of the enthusiasm exhibited by the people, or saw him sitting at a
feast of pheasants, smacking his lips and drawing the asparagus between
his teeth, she reflected on his brother's hard lot and could not help
feeling angry with her fortunate son for possessing all the gifts that
Destiny refused to her poor outcast George.

Once when the duchess looked in the mirror, she saw George who had
carefully taken a clock to pieces, trying to put it together again. A
moment later the chancellor and the master of ceremonies came up behind
her in order to look into the glass also. No sooner had they done so
than they set up a loud outcry, and behaved as if the enemy had invaded
the land again.

"The poor, miserable, pitiable, ill-starred princeling!" one of them
exclaimed. "A Greylock, it is unheard of, abominable, sacrilegious," the
other moaned. They had indeed beheld a dreadful sight, for they had seen
the son of Wendelin XV. beaten over the back by a common workman with a
stick. The duchess had to witness many similar outrages later when she
saw George in the school to which the ston