t tell what had waked him.
But could he be awake, or was he not dreaming? The curtain of the
king's door, a dull red ever before, was glowing a gorgeous, a radiant
purple; and the crown wrought upon it in silks and gems was flashing as
if it burned! What could it mean? Was the king's chamber on fire? He
darted to the door and lifted the curtain. Glorious terrible sight!

A long and broad marble table, that stood at one end of the room, had
been drawn into the middle of it, and thereon burned a great fire, of a
sort that Curdie knew--a fire of glowing, flaming roses, red and white.
In the midst of the roses lay the king, moaning, but motionless. Every
rose that fell from the table to the floor, someone, whom Curdie could
not plainly see for the brightness, lifted and laid burning upon the
king's face, until at length his face too was covered with the live
roses, and he lay all within the fire, moaning still, with now and then
a shuddering sob.

And the shape that Curdie saw and could not see, wept over the king as
he lay in the fire, and often she hid her face in handfuls of her
shadowy hair, and from her hair the water of her weeping dropped like
sunset rain in the light of the roses. At last she lifted a great
armful of her hair, and shook it over the fire, and the drops fell from
it in showers, and they did not hiss in the flames, but there arose
instead as it were the sound of running brooks.

And the glow of the red fire died away, and the glow of the white fire
grew grey, and the light was gone, and on the table all was
black--except the face of the king, which shone from under the burnt
roses like a diamond in the ashes of a furnace.

Then Curdie, no longer dazzled, saw and knew the old princess. The
room was lighted with the splendour of her face, of her blue eyes, of
her sapphire crown. Her golden hair went streaming out from her
through the air till it went off in mist and light. She was large and
strong as a Titaness. She stooped over the table-altar, put her mighty
arms under the living sacrifice, lifted the king, as if he were but a
little child, to her bosom, walked with him up the floor, and laid him
in his bed. Then darkness fell.

The miner boy turned silent away, and laid himself down again in the
corridor. An absolute joy filled his heart, his bosom, his head, his
whole body. All was safe; all was well. With the helve of his mattock
tight in his grasp, he sank into a dreamless sleep.