ressed. "Pray consider what he has been through during the--"

"Ah, my dear Count, do not apologise for him. I quite understand. Ahem!
Ahem!" Still he was very red in the face. Some one had laughed softly
behind his back.

"I will awaken him, your Excellency," said the Prime Minister, edging
toward the throne.

"Not at all, sir!" protested the visitor. "Permit him to have his sleep
out, sir. I will not have him disturbed. Who am I that I should defeat
the claims of nature? It is my pleasure to wait until his Majesty's nap
is over. Then he may dismiss us, but not until we have cried: 'Long live
the Prince!'"

For awhile they stood in awkward silence, this notable gathering of men
and women. Then the Prime Minister, in hushed tones, suggested that it
would be eminently proper, under the circumstances, for all present to
be seated. He was under the impression that His Serene Highness would
sleep long and soundly.

Stiff-backed and uncomfortable, the Court sat and waited. No one
pretended to conceal the blissful yawns that would not be denied. A
drowsy, ineffably languid feeling took possession of the entire
assemblage. Here and there a noble head nodded slightly; eyelids fell in
the silent war against the god of slumber, only to revive again with
painful energy and ever-weakening courage.

The Prime Minister sat at the foot of the throne and nodded in spite of
himself. The Minister of the Treasury was breathing so heavily that his
neighbor nudged him just in time to prevent something even more
humiliating. John Tullis, far back near the wall, had his head on his
hand, bravely fighting off the persistent demon. Prince Dantan of
Dawsbergen was sound asleep.

The Grand Duke was wide awake. He saw it all and was equal to the
occasion. After all, he was a kindly old gentleman, and, once his moment
of mortification was over, he was not above charity.

Bobby's poor little head had slipped over to a most uncomfortable
position against the arm of the chair. Putting his finger to his lips,
the Grand Duke tip-toed carefully up to the throne. With very gentle
hands he lifted Bobby's head, and, infinitely tender, stuffed a throne
cushion behind the curly head. Still with his finger to his lips, a
splendid smile in his eyes, he tip-toed back to his chair.

As he passed Count Halfont, who had risen, he whispered:

"Dear little man! I do not forget, my lord, that I was once a boy. God
bless him!"

Then he sat down, conscious