the Countess as she brought me a high footstool. I tried to jump down in time to stop her, but she would not let me. Then she knelt herself on the stool, her knees by my feet.
"What beautiful military boots!" she said.
I looked down listlessly at my shining toes. She clasped her hands, crying:
"You're a beautiful little king! Oh, isn't it lovely to be a king!"
I looked at her doubtfully; her pretty face was quite close to mine. Somehow I wanted very much to put my arms round her neck, but I felt sure that kings did not hug countesses. Imagine Krak's verdict on such a notion!
"I'm not a king for my own pleasure," said I, regarding my hostess gravely. "I am a king for the good of my people."
She drew a long breath and whispered in English (I did not understand then, but the sound of the words stayed with me), "Poor little mite!" Then she said:
"But don't you have a lovely time?"
I felt that I was becoming rather red, and I knew that the tears were not far from my eyes.
"No," said I, "not very."
"Why not?"
"They— they don't let me do any of the things I want to."
"You shall do anything you want to here," she whispered. I was very much surprised to see that her bright eyes had grown a little clouded.
"We've no kings in my country," she said, taking my hand in hers.
"Oh, I wish I'd been born there," said I; then we looked at one another for a minute, and I put
