rgotten. The little Crown Prince had stood clinging to his nurse's
skirts, an uncomprehending spectator of what was going forward. But he
now advanced slowly, feeling that the silence invited him to claim his
father's notice. He halted beside the chair in which Louis sat, his
head bent on his hands, and made an effort to draw himself up to his
father's knee.

But the King pushed him down, and hid his face from him. The child
turned irresolutely, with a troubled countenance, and, looking up, saw
that the attention of all was fixed upon him. At this discovery a
sudden flood of shyness overtook him, and he retreated hastily until
his eyes fell on the Prince Kalonay, standing alone, with his own eyes
turned resolutely away. There was a breathless hush in the room as the
child, with a happy sigh, ran to his former friend and comrade, and
reached up both his arms. The tableau was a familiar one to those who
knew them, and meant only that the child asked to be lifted up and
swung to the man's shoulder; but following as it did on what had just
passed, the gesture and the attitude carried with them the significance
of an appeal. Kalonay, as though with a great effort, lowered his eyes
to the upturned face of the child below him, but held himself back and
stood stiffly erect. A sharp shake of the head, as though he argued
with himself, was the only sign he gave of the struggle that was going
on within him.

At this second repulse, the child's arms dropped to his side, his lips
quivered, and he stood, a lonely little figure, glancing up at the
circle of men about him, and struggling to press back the tears that
came creeping to his eyes.

Kalonay regarded him steadfastly for a brief moment, as though he saw
him as a stranger, searching his face with eyes as pitiful as the
child's own; and then, with a sudden, sharp cry, the Prince dropped on
his knee and caught the child toward him, crushing him against his
heart, and burying his face on his shoulder. There was a shout of
exultation from the nobles, and an uttered prayer from the priest, and
in a moment the young men had crowded in around them, struggling to be
the first to kiss the child's hands, and to ask pardon of the man who
held him in his arms.

"Gentlemen," Kalonay cried, his voice laughing through his tears, "we
shall still sail for the island of Messina. They shall not say of us
that we visited the sins of the father on a child. I was weak, my
friends, a