o that; but somehow after she died everything seemed to go
wrong with him. From a beautiful baby he became sickly and pale, seeming
to have almost ceased growing, especially in his legs, which had been so
fat and strong.

But after the day of his christening they withered and shrank; he no
longer kicked them out either in passion or play, and when, as he got
to be nearly a year old, his nurse tried to make him stand upon them, he
only tumbled down.

This happened so many times that at last people began to talk about it.
A prince, and not able to stand on his own legs! What a dreadful thing!
What a misfortune for the country!

Rather a misfortune to him also, poor little boy! but nobody seemed to
think of that. And when, after a while, his health revived, and the old
bright look came back to his sweet little face, and his body grew larger
and stronger, though still his legs remained the same, people continued
to speak of him in whispers, and with grave shakes of the head.
Everybody knew, though nobody said it, that something, it was impossible
to guess what, was not quite right with the poor little Prince.

Of course, nobody hinted this to the King his father: it does not do
to tell great people anything unpleasant. And besides, his Majesty
took very little notice of his son, or of his other affairs, beyond the
necessary duties of his kingdom.

People had said he would not miss the Queen at all, she having been
so long an invalid, but he did. After her death he never was quite the
same. He established himself in her empty rooms, the only rooms in
the palace whence one could see the Beautiful Mountains, and was often
observed looking at them as if he thought she had flown away thither,
and that his longing could bring her back again. And by a curious
coincidence, which nobody dared inquire into, he desired that the Prince
might be called, not by any of the four-and-twenty grand names given him
by his godfathers and godmothers, but by the identical name mentioned by
the little old woman in gray--Dolor, after his mother Dolorez.

Once a week, according to established state custom, the Prince, dressed
in his very best, was brought to the King his father for half an hour,
but his Majesty was generally too ill and too melancholy to pay much
heed to the child.

Only once, when he and the Crown-Prince, who was exceedingly attentive
to his royal brother, were sitting together, with Prince Dolor playing
in a corner of the