Sorrowfully, one by one, the courtiers left, wishing him their last adieux. He had been a good king to all, all through his long reign, and they were sorry that he had to leave them at last.
Soon they were all gone except the good Merrymineral, and at last he too went, his whole frame shaking with suppressed sobs; his body seemed powerless with grief, and his limbs seemed to refuse their functions. The King looked after him, carefully noticing whether the door was shut. Then he spoke:
‘My dear daughter,’ he said, ‘when I am gone be kind to every one, and, above all, cherish the Owl—do cherish the Owl—promise me to cherish the Owl.’
‘But how can I cherish the Owl?’ cried the poor Princess; ‘how can I, unless I know who he is?’
But the King only answered:
‘Dear Ismara, do promise to cherish the Owl!’
And he said nothing else for a long time, until at last the Princess saw that the only way to let him rest in peace was to promise, and she said:
‘I promise, dear father, but still I do wish I knew who or what the Owl is that I am to cherish.’
‘You will see that in good time,’ answered the King. ‘Now, my dear Ismara, I shall die happy, and you will be safe. If you had not promised—however, we will let that rest unsaid. Now wheel the bed to where I can see out of the window.’