The little prince continued to pore over the globe without speaking. Suddenly his thin face reddened and he clung more closely to his companion's arm.
"I see a beautiful place," he began, his small fluting voice rising like a bird's pipe in the stillness, "a place a thousand times more beautiful than this...like a garden...full of golden-haired children...with beautiful strange toys in their hands...they have wings like birds...they ARE birds...ah! they are flying away from me...I see them no more...they vanish through the trees..." He broke off sadly.
Heiligenstern smiled. "That, your Highness, is a vision of the prince's own future, when, restored to health, he is able to disport himself with his playmates in the gardens of the palace."
"But they were not the gardens of the palace!" the little boy exclaimed. "They were much more beautiful than our gardens."
Heiligenstern bowed. "They appeared so to your Highness," he deferentially suggested, "because all the world seems more beautiful to those who have regained their health."
"Enough, my son!" exclaimed the Duchess with a shaken voice. "Why will you weary the child?" she continued, turning to the Duke; and the latter, with evident reluctance, signed to Heiligenstern to cover the crystal. To the general surprise, however, Prince Ferrante pushed back the black velvet covering which the Georgian boy was preparing to throw over it.
"No, no," he exclaimed, in the high obstinate voice of the spoiled child, "let me look again...let me see some more beautiful things...I have never seen anything so beautiful, even in my sleep!" It was the plaintive cry of the child whose happiest hours are those spent in unconsciousness.
"Look again, then," said the Duke, "and ask the heavenly powers what more they have to show you."
The boy gazed in silence; then he broke out: "Ah, now we are in the palace...I see your Highness's cabinet...no, it is the bedchamber...it is night...and I see your Highness lying asleep...very still...very still...your Highness wears the scapular received last Easter from his Holiness...It is very dark...Oh, now a light begins to shine...where does it come from? Through the door? No, there is no door on that side of the room...It shines through the wall at the foot of the bed...ah! I see"—his voice mounted to a cry—"The old picture at the foot of the bed...the picture with the wicked people burning in it...has opened like a door...the light is shining through it...and now a lady steps out from the wall behind the picture...oh, so beautiful...she has yellow hair, as yellow as my mother's...but longer...oh, much longer...she carries a rose in her hand...and there are white doves flying about her shoulders...she is naked, quite naked, poor lady! but she does not seem to mind...she seems to be laughing about it...and your Highness..."
The Duke started up violently. "Enough—enough!" he stammered. "The fever is on the child...this agitation is...most pernicious...Cover the crystal, I say!"