Poor boy! Thou wast a fool, and thou wast a murderer.
Thou wouldst have slain my prince, and so I slew thee--I slew thee." He rocked to and fro in abject sorrow, and cried again: "Hast thou no one in all the world to mourn thee, save him who killed thee?
Is there no one to wish thee speed to the Ancient House?
Art thou tossed away like an old shoe, and no one to say, The Shoemaker that made thee must see to it if thou wast ill-shapen, and walked crookedly, and did evil things?
Ah, is there no one to mourn thee, save him that killed thee ?" He leaned back, and cried out into the high hills like a remorseful, tortured soul.
Valmond, no longer able to watch this grief in silence, stepped quickly forward.

The dogs, seeing him, barked, and then were still; and the dwarf looked up as he heard footsteps.
"Another has come to mourn him, Parpon," said Valmond.
A look of bewilderment and joy swam into Parpon's eyes.

Then he gave a laugh of singular wildness, his face twitched, tears rushed down his cheeks, and he threw himself at Valmond's feet, and clasped his knees, crying: "Ah-ah, my prince, great brother, thou hast come also! Ah, thou didst know the way up the long hill Thou hast come to the burial of a fool.
But he had a mother--yes, yes, a mother! All fools have mothers, and they should be buried well.

Come, ah, come, and speak softly the Act of Contrition, and I will cover him up." He went to throw in the earth, but Valmond pushed him aside gently.
"No, no," he said, "this is for me." And he began filling the grave.
When they left the place of burial, the fire was burning low, for they had talked long.

At the foot of the hills they looked back.