e called a street and became merely
a narrow, trail-like path up the mountain-side. The wanderer climbed
interminably. He took no thought of destination and satisfied himself
with the physical exertion of the laborious going.

His heart pounded faster as he attained the altitude of the pine woods
where he seemed to have left humanity behind him. Once or twice he saw a
shy, half-wild child who fled from its task of gathering fagots at his
approach, to gaze at him out of startled eyes from a safe distance.

Occasionally he would stop to look down, from some coign of vantage, at
cascading threads of water tumbling into the gorge below, or at a
chalet-like house perched far beneath in its trim patch of agriculture.
Finally he stretched himself indolently on a carpet of pine needles at
the brink of a drop to the valley. Then, with a sense of recognition, he
saw the tumbled-down gate of the King's driveway below him to the left,
and his face became set and miserable as memory began its work of
tearing open wounds not yet old.

Suddenly there drifted up a chorus of children's laughter. He sat up
suddenly and looked about, but no one was in sight. Again he heard an
unmistakable peal of shrill, childish merriment, seemingly close at
hand. He lay flat and looked over the ledge, holding on to a root of a
gnarled pine that grew far out at the marge.

Under him, not more than twenty yards below, on a similar natural
platform, sat a circle of peasant children, their eyes large with
wonderment and interest. In their center, also seated on the earth, was
the Queen of Galavia. She was dressed in a short walking skirt and a
blue jersey, and as the man gripped the pine root to which he held, and
gazed over, she lifted an outstretched finger of a gauntleted hand in
illustration of some particularly wonderful point of what was palpably a
particularly wonderful fairy story. A third burst of delight came from
the listening and responsive auditors, who had no idea by whom they were
being entertained.

The peasants of Galavia speak Portuguese. As Benton shifted his position
so that he could eavesdrop without being discovered, he found that he
could catch some of the words.

"Tell us another story--" piped a high treble voice, "--a story about
the beautiful Princess who married the King." The demand was seconded by
an immediate clamor of eager voices.

The girl rose unsteadily and shook her head. For a moment she stood
looking off over t