So, between the insinuating advice of Ambition and the fair promises of Death, Griselda was persuaded, and the messenger bore back to the king word that Griselda would sing for him that night.
But Ambition and Death remained as guests in Griselda's household.
The child grew restless as the day advanced. From the very moment that Death had entered the house the little one had seemed very changed, but Griselda was so busy listening to the flattering speeches of Ambition that she did not notice the flush on her infant's cheeks and the feverish rapidity of his breathing.
But Death sat grimly in a corner of the room and never took his eyes from the crib where the little one lay.
"You shall so please the king with your beautiful face and voice," said Ambition, "that he will confer wealth and title upon you. You will be the most famous woman on earth; better than that, your fame shall live always in history—it shall be eternal!"
And Griselda smiled, for the picture was most pleasing.
"The child's hands are hot," said old Charlotte, the nurse, "and there seem to be strange tremors in his little body, and he groans as he tosses from one side of his cradle to the other."
Griselda was momentarily alarmed, but Ambition only laughed.
"Nonsense," quoth Ambition, "'tis an old woman's fancy. This envious old witch would have you disappoint the king—the king, who would load you with riches and honors!"
So the day lengthened, and Griselda listened to the grateful flatteries of Ambition. But Death sat all the time gazing steadfastly on the little one in the cradle. The candles were brought, and Griselda arrayed herself in her costliest robes.