She cried out-- "O my lord, on thy knees ?--and to ME!" Then she fled away in fright; and Tom, smitten with despair, sank down, murmuring-- "There is no help, there is no hope.

Now will they come and take me." Whilst he lay there benumbed with terror, dreadful tidings were speeding through the palace.

The whisper--for it was whispered always--flew from menial to menial, from lord to lady, down all the long corridors, from story to story, from saloon to saloon, "The prince hath gone mad, the prince hath gone mad!" Soon every saloon, every marble hall, had its groups of glittering lords and ladies, and other groups of dazzling lesser folk, talking earnestly together in whispers, and every face had in it dismay.

Presently a splendid official came marching by these groups, making solemn proclamation-- "IN THE NAME OF THE KING! Let none list to this false and foolish matter, upon pain of death, nor discuss the same, nor carry it abroad.

In the name of the King!" The whisperings ceased as suddenly as if the whisperers had been stricken dumb.
Soon there was a general buzz along the corridors, of "The prince! See, the prince comes!" Poor Tom came slowly walking past the low-bowing groups, trying to bow in return, and meekly gazing upon his strange surroundings with bewildered and pathetic eyes.