p
the hill, thou must lean heavily on thy staff, thou must cast
thine eyes low to the ground. When thou comest to the gate of the
palace, thou must tarry there until the hour for the king to
dine. Then mayest thou go to the great gate and ask an alms for
the sake of St. Peter and St. Paul, but none shalt thou take from
any hand, save from the hand of the young bride herself.'

Hynde Horn thanked the old beggar man, and, bidding him farewell,
set off up the hill toward the palace gate. And no one looking at
him in the tattered coat, bending half double over his staff, no
one could have guessed that this beggar man was the brave and
courteous Hynde Horn.

Now when at length King Horn reached the palace gate, the wedding
feast was spread.

Princess Jean was sitting on the throne beside her father, Prince
Fykenyld on her other side, smiling to himself.

He would soon be wedded to the princess, he thought, and in days
to come he would reign with her over King Alymer's wide domains.
Fykenyld had no thought to spare for his old playmate, save to be
glad that he had never returned from the far East to claim his
bride.

But though seven long years had rolled away, Princess Jean had
not forgotten Hynde Horn. Forgotten! Nay, day and night he was in
her thought, in her heart. Yet was she sure that he would never
now return.

It is true that in her despair she had yielded to her father's
wishes; she had promised to wed Prince Fykenyld that very day. It
was no wonder then that she sat on the throne sad at heart, pale
of face.

Hynde Horn had knocked at the palace gate. It was no humble
beggar's rap he gave, but a bold, impatient knock. King Horn had
forgotten for the moment that he was only a beggar man.

The palace gate was flung wide. One of the noble guests had
arrived, thought the porter. But when he saw a beggar standing
before him, he wellnigh slammed the gate in the poor man's face.

Before he could do this Hynde Horn spoke, and his voice made the
porter pause to listen, so sweet, so soft it was. It brought back
to the rough old man the thought of Hynde Horn, for he had been
used to speak in just such a tone.

The porter cleared his voice, wiped his eyes, for he, as all
others who dwelt in the palace, had loved Hynde Horn, and grieved
sorely for his absence.

For the sake of Hynde Horn it was that the porter listened to the
beggar man's request.

'I have come to ask for alms, yet will I take them from none s