rsons closely enough to be able to utter certain words to
them."

"Only two young strollers whom no man could suspect," put in Lazarus in
an astonishingly rough and shaky voice. "They could pass near the
Emperor himself without danger. The young Master--" his voice became
so hoarse that he was obligated to clear it loudly--"the young Master
must carry himself less finely. It would be well to shuffle a little
and slouch as if he were of the common people."

"Yes," said The Rat hastily. "He must do that. I can teach him. He
holds his head and his shoulders like a gentleman. He must look like a
street lad."

"I will look like one," said Marco, with determination.

"I will trust you to remind him," Loristan said to The Rat, and he said
it with gravity. "That will be your charge."

As he lay upon his pillow that night, it seemed to Marco as if a load
had lifted itself from his heart. It was the load of uncertainty and
longing. He had so long borne the pain of feeling that he was too
young to be allowed to serve in any way. His dreams had never been wild
ones--they had in fact always been boyish and modest, howsoever
romantic. But now no dream which could have passed through his brain
would have seemed so wonderful as this--that the hour had come--the
hour had come--and that he, Marco, was to be its messenger. He was to
do no dramatic deed and be announced by no flourish of heralds. No one
would know what he did. What he achieved could only be attained if he
remained obscure and unknown and seemed to every one only a common
ordinary boy who knew nothing whatever of important things. But his
father had given to him a gift so splendid that he trembled with awe
and joy as he thought of it. The Game had become real. He and The Rat
were to carry with them The Sign, and it would be like carrying a tiny
lamp to set aflame lights which would blaze from one mountain-top to
another until half the world seemed on fire.

As he had awakened out of his sleep when Lazarus touched him, so he
awakened in the middle of the night again. But he was not aroused by a
touch. When he opened his eyes he knew it was a look which had
penetrated his sleep--a look in the eyes of his father who was standing
by his side. In the road outside there was the utter silence he had
noticed the night of the Prince's first visit--the only light was that
of the lamp in the street, but he could see Loristan's face clearly
enough to know t