The Prince and the Pauper
Her
d it
The
So
n, entertaining himself with his thoughts, which broke out
occasionally in articulate speech—
"His father wrought us evil, he destroyed us—and is
gone down into the eternal fires! Yes, down into the eternal fires!
He escaped us—but it was God's will, yes it was God's will, we must not
repine. But he hath not escaped the fires! No, he hath not escaped
the fires, the consuming, unpitying, remorseless fires—and they are
everlasting!"
And so he wrought, and still wrought—mumbling, chuckling a
low rasping chuckle at times—and at times breaking again into words—
"It was his father that did it all. I am but an
archangel; but for him I should be pope!"
The King stirred. The hermit sprang noiselessly to the
bedside, and went down upon his knees, bending over the prostrate form with his
knife uplifted. The boy stirred again; his eyes came open for an instant,
but there was no speculation in them, they saw nothing; the next moment his
tranquil breathing showed that his sleep was sound once more.
The hermit watched and listened, for a time, keeping his
position and scarcely breathing; then he slowly lowered his arms, and presently
crept away, saying,—
"It is long past midnight; it is not best that he
should cry out, lest by accident someone be passing."
