She replied to this with gentle mockery. "Not happy?" she said; "and yet there are many to play with you, and none to turn away from you with coldness and indifference—any more."
He became strangely still. What did she mean by that? He had never told her about his childhood; he had never mentioned his parents to her. Whom could she be, that she should know so many things without having to be told? Or was she speaking only of the present, without reference to the past?
"My playmates are all friendly," he said; "but you know I have come far from home …"
When he faltered she added, "But have you found what you started out to find?"
He was a little embarrassed. "What I started out to find?" he echoed. "I don't seem to remember——"
"You know you started out to find the truth," she said.
He nodded. "So I did," he declared. "But so many things have happened, especially since I found the Sleeping Beauty, and it's been so nice, most of the time …"
"Still, you shouldn't give up, you know," she said. "Maybe that's the reason why you're not quite happy—because you haven't found the truth."
He sighed heavily. She hadn't comforted him, after all. And somehow he could not tell her that what ailed him was that he was heartsick to see his parents again. He remembered the pretty sitting room at home, and the way his father and mother used to look; and it seemed to him that if he could go back they would perhaps be happy to see him. But he could not speak of all this to the Masked Lady.
He was greatly amazed when she said in a low tone: "It would be the same thing over again if you didn't find the truth before you went back."