een Claude plums into a small phial,
bought a doctor's robe, put on a wig and spectacles, and presented
himself before the King of the Low Countries. He gave himself out as a
famous physician who had come from distant lands, and he promised that
he would cure the Princess if only he might be left alone with her.

'Another madman determined to be hanged,' said the King. 'Very well, do
as he asks; one should refuse nothing to a man with a rope round his
neck.'

As soon as the little soldier was in the presence of the Princess he
poured some drops of the liquid into a glass. The Princess had scarcely
tasted it, when the tip of the horns disappeared.

'They would have disappeared completely,' said the pretended doctor, 'if
there did not exist something to counteract the effect. It is only
possible to cure people whose souls are as clean as the palm of my hand.
Are you sure you have not committed some little sin? Examine yourself
well.'

Ludovine had no need to think over it long, but she was torn in pieces
between the shame of a humiliating confession, and the desire to be
unhorned. At last she made answer with downcast eyes,

'I have stolen a leather purse from a little soldier.'

'Give it to me. The remedy will not act till I hold the purse in my
hands.'

It cost Ludovine a great pang to give up the purse, but she remembered
that riches would not benefit her if she was still to keep the horns.

With a sigh, she handed the purse to the doctor, who poured more of the
liquid into the glass, and when the Princess had drunk it, she found
that the horns had diminished by one half.

'You must really have another little sin on your conscience. Did you
steal nothing from this soldier but his purse?'

'I also stole from him his cloak.'

'Give it me.'

'Here it is.'

This time Ludovine thought to herself that when once the horns had
departed, she would call her attendants and take the things from the
doctor by force.

She was greatly pleased with this idea, when suddenly the pretended
physician wrapped himself in the cloak, flung away the wig and
spectacles, and showed to the traitress the face of the Little Soldier.

She stood before him dumb with fright.

'I might,' said John, 'have left you horned to the end of your days, but
I am a good fellow and I once loved you, and besides--you are too like
the devil to have any need of his horns.'

X

John had wished himself in the house of the Seagull. Now the S