And tell your father to lay that stone I gave him at night in a safe place--not because of the greatness of its price, although it is such an emerald as no prince has in his crown, but because it will be a news-bearer between you and him.

As often as he gets at all anxious about you, he must take it and lay it in the fire, and leave it there when he goes to bed.

In the morning he must find it in the ashes, and if it be as green as ever, then all goes well with you; if it have lost colour, things go ill with you; but if it be very pale indeed, then you are in great danger, and he must come to me.' 'Yes, ma'am,' said Curdie.

'Please, am I to go now ?' 'Yes,' answered the princess, and held out her hand to him.
Curdie took it, trembling with joy.

It was a very beautiful hand--not small, very smooth, but not very soft--and just the same to his fire-taught touch that it was to his eyes.