rak see that. So presently my mother went away,
and Krak too. Then Anna came and tried to turn down the clothes, but I
would not let her. I hung on to them hard, for I was still crying. I
heard Anna sigh, "Poor dearie!" then she went away; but directly after
Victoria's voice came, saying, "Anna says I may come in with you. May I,
please, Augustin?" I let her move the bedclothes and get in with me; and
I put my arms round her neck. Victoria comforted me as best she could.

"You'll be a real king when you grow up," she said.

A thought struck me--a rapturous thought, born of the Arabian Nights.
(In the archbishop lay no comfort at all.)

"Yes," I cried, "and then I'll bastinado Krak!" With this comforting
thought I fell asleep.

A strange day, this of my coronation, odd to pass through, to the
highest degree illuminating in retrospect. I did not live to bastinado
Krak; nor would I now had I the power. What they did was perhaps a
little cruel, a little Styrian, as Victoria and I used covertly to say
of such harsh measures; but how valuable a lesson on the state and
fortune of kings! The King is one, the man another. The King is crowned,
the man is lashed; they give us greatness in words: in fact, we are our
servants' servants. Little as I liked the thing at the time, I can not
now regret that I was chastised on my coronation day. I was thus put
into an attitude eminently conducive to the perception of truth, and to
a realization of the facts of my position. I forgive thee the blows,
Krak--Lo, I forgive thee!

CHAPTER II.

A BIRD WITHOUT WINGS.

A man's _puerilia_ are to himself not altogether puerile; they are
parcel of the complex explanation of his existent self. He starts, I
suppose, as something, a very malleable something, ready to be hammered
into the shape that the socket requires. The two greatest forces at work
on the yielding substance are parents and position, with the gardener's
boy beneath my window crusts and cuffs, with me at the window kingship
and Styrian discipline. In the latter there was to me nothing strange; I
had grown into it from birth. But now it became suddenly noticeable, as
a thing demanding justification, by reason of its patent incongruity
with my kingship. I have shown how swiftly and sharply the contrast was
impressed on me; if I have not made that point, then my story of a
nursery tragedy is unexcused. I was left wondering what manner of king
he was who must obey on pain of