The enchanted chimes of sleep, which rang of themselves, were to sound at the midnight hour.
Little by little, the royal palace became as silent as a stone. A darkness of slumber and night filled the vast echoing halls, and from afar through the gloom came the faint tramp, tramp of the hob-nailed night-watch on the last round of the year.
After attending the ceremonial winter good-night of the royal family, Theolette hurried away to her own chamber.
“I mustn’t fall asleep now,” said she, clenching her fist, “because if I do, I’ll sleep until the spring!” And with a heart that went thump, thump, thump in the darkness, she waited the midnight hour.
Suddenly the first warning bell—Nightcaps On!—struck one great solemn rolling clang which swept out over the city and ebbed away humming to the stars.
And now, after a pause, sounded the second bell—Lights out! Theolette sat down in a great chair, arose, walked about, sat down again, and arose once more. Would the third bell never ring?
Presently—Everybody to bed!—boomed the third bell. Theolette put her fingers to her ears. Solemn and sweet and strange and golden, the enchanted chimes were sounding their fairy tune.
Now, once the song of the chimes had come to an end and the throbbing humming of the last grave chord had melted into the air, Theolette went to her window, drew back the curtain, and looked forth over the city sleeping in the starlight. How strange and still they were, those dark streets winding like crooked brooks through banks of huddled roofs. Suddenly the Princess uttered a little cry of surprise!
Far away across the sleeping city, in a little house by the wall, a yellow light was gleaming! And now the light moved, went from window to window, vanished, reappeared, and vanished yet again.
Someone else was awake in the city! Who could it be?