"Old woman, you will be kind enough not to say, 'the baby,' but 'the Prince.' Keep away; his Royal Highness is just going to sleep."
"I must kiss him, I am his godmother."
"You!" cried the elegant lady-nurse.
"You!!" cried all the Court and the heralds began to blow the silver trumpets, to stop the conversation.
As the procession formed to return, the old woman stood on the topmost step, and stretched herself on tiptoe by the help of her stick, and gave the little Prince three kisses.
"Take yourself out of the way," cried the nurse, "or the king shall be informed immediately."
"The King knows nothing of me," replied the old woman, with an indifferent air. "My friend in the palace is the King's wife. I know her Majesty well, and I love her and her child. And since you dropped him on the marble stairs I choose to take him for my own. I am his godmother, ready to help him whenever he wants me."
"You help him!" cried the group laughing. The little old woman paid no attention and her soft grey eyes were fixed on the Prince, who smiled back at her.
"His Majesty shall hear of this," said a gentleman-in-waiting.
"His Majesty will hear quite enough news in a minute or two," said the old woman sadly, kissing the little Prince on the forehead. "Be Prince Dolor, in memory of your mother Dolorez." Everybody started.