ingly.

'If you can make her speak she shall be your wife,' answered he; 'but
if not--did you mark the skulls that strewed the mountain side?'

'Some day a man is bound to break the spell, O sultan,' replied the
youth boldly; 'and why should not I be he as well as another? At any
rate, my word is pledged, and I cannot draw back now.'

'Well, go if you must,' said the sultan. And he bade his attendants
lead the way to the chamber of the princess, but to allow the young
man to enter alone.

Catching up, unseen, his mantle and the cage as they passed into the
dark corridor--for by this time night was coming on--the youth found
himself standing in a room bare except for a pile of silken cushions,
and one tall golden candlestick. His heart beat high as he looked at
the cushions, and knew that, shrouded within the shining veils that
covered them, lay the much longed-for princess. Then, fearful that
after all other eyes might be watching him, he hastily placed the
nightingale under the open pedestal on which the candlestick was
resting, and turning again he steadied his voice, and besought the
princess to tell him of her well-being.

Not by even a movement of her hand did the princess show that she had
heard, and the young man, who of course expected this, went on to
speak of his travels and of the strange countries he had passed
through; but not a sound broke the silence.

* * * * *

'I see clearly that you are interested in none of these things,' said
he at last, 'and as I have been forced to hold my peace for so many
months, I feel that now I really _must_ talk to somebody, so I shall
go and address my conversation to the candlestick.' And with that he
crossed the room behind the princess, and cried: 'O fairest of
candlesticks, how are you?'

'Very well indeed, my lord,' answered the nightingale; 'but I wonder
how many years have gone by since any one has spoken with me. And, now
that you have come, rest, I pray you, awhile, and listen to my story.'

'Willingly,' replied the youth, curling himself up on the floor, for
there was no cushion for him to sit on.

'Once upon a time,' began the nightingale, 'there lived a pasha whose
daughter was the most beautiful maiden in the whole kingdom. Suitors
she had in plenty, but she was not easy to please, and at length there
were only three whom she felt she could even _think_ of marrying. Not
knowing which of the three she liked best, she to