Then with great reluctance the king properly dressed himself, and went to the subterranean hall.

There indeed was the statue, the gift of the Spirit-king; and very beautiful it was.  But it was not made of diamond, and it looked so strangely like the girl whom he had lost, that the king’s heart leapt in his breast for astonishment.  He put out his hand and touched the statue, and found it warm with life and youth.  And a sweet voice said to him, “Yes, it is really I—­have you forgotten?”

Thus she was given back to him; and the Spirit-king came to their wedding, and thus addressed the bridegroom, “O my son, for your dead father’s sake I did this thing.  For it was meant to teach you that the worth of a really pure and perfect woman is more than the price of any diamond or any treasure that the earth can yield.”

Now you can see at once the beauty of this story; and the moral of it is exactly the same as that of the famous verse, in the Book of Proverbs, “Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies.”  But it is simply a story from the “Arabian Nights”—­one of those stories which you will not find in the ordinary European translations, because it is written in such a way that no English translator except Burton would have dared to translate it quite literally.  The obscenity of parts of the original does not really detract in the least from the beauty and tenderness of the motive of the story; and we must remember that what we call moral or immoral in style depends very much upon the fashion of an age and time.

Now it is exactly the same kind of moral charm that distinguishes the best of the old English romances—­a charm which has nothing to do with the style, but everything to do with the feeling and suggestion of the composition.  But in some of the old romances, the style too has a very great charm of quaintness and simplicity and sincerity not to be imitated to-day.  In this respect the older French romances, from which the English made their renderings, are much the best.  And the best of all is said to be “Amis and Amile,” which the English rendered as “Amicus and Amelius.”  Something of the story ought to interest you.

The whole subject of this romance is the virtue of friendship, though this of course involves a number of other virtues quite as distinguished.  Amis and Amile, that is to say Amicus and Amelius, are two young knights who at the beginning of their career become profoundly attached to each other.  Not content with the duties of this natural affection, they imposed upon themselves all the duties which chivalry also attached to the office of friend.  The romance tells of how they triumphed over every conceivable test to which their friendship was subjected.  Often and often the witchcraft of woman worked to separate them, but could not.  Both married, yet after marriage their friendship was just as strong as before.  Each has to fight many times on account