"You know as well as I do that the youngest son has always succeeded, up to now.

But I entertain great hopes of Enrico!" And he grinned; for he fancied it was all _nonsense_, and that there were no Firedrakes.
Enrico was present when Prigio was consoling the king in this unfeeling way.
"Enrico, my boy," said his majesty, "the task awaits you, and the honour.
When _you_ come back with the horns and tail of the Firedrake, you shall be crown prince; and Prigio shall be made an usher at the Grammar School--it is all he is fit for." Enrico was not quite so confident as Alphonso had been.

He insisted on making his will; and he wrote a poem about the pleasures and advantages of dying young.

This is part of it: _The violet is a blossom sweet_, _That droops before the day is done_-- _Slain by thine overpowering heat_, _O Sun_! _And I_, _like that sweet purple flower_, _May roast_, _or boil_, _or broil_, _or bake_, _If burned by thy terrific power_, _Firedrake_! This poem comforted Enrico more or less, and he showed it to Prigio.

But the prince only laughed, and said that the second line of the last verse was not very good; for violets do not "roast, or boil, or broil, or bake." Enrico tried to improve it, but could not.