The youth paused and looked round him, and then spoke aloud: 

“Have I come on a fool’s errand after all?  Shall I ever accomplish my object?  Methinks if I had but a trusty comrade at hand somewhat might be done; but I fear my poor Jacques never reached the land alive, and I had trusted to him to be my guide and counsellor in my quest.  Alone I feel helpless—­stranded—­bewildered.

“Ha! what is that?  Who comes this way?”

“Your faithful servant, gracious prince,” cried Paul, springing out of his concealment and throwing himself at young Edward’s feet.  “My dear, dear lord, how come you here alone, unarmed, defenceless, in the midst of a hostile country?  Methinks I do but dream; but yet the face, the voice—­I cannot be mistaken.  O sweet prince, did we not truly say that we should meet again?  Do you remember me?”

“Remember you, good Paul?  Of a truth I do, and that right well; and it is indeed a happy chance that has thrown you across my path this day.  But Paul, on your life, on your loyalty as a subject, call me not prince again.  It might cost me my life, and you yours.

“Hush!  I will be obeyed, and I will explain in brief.  I am here unknown to all.  I stole away from my mother’s side, even as I stole into the forest with you when we were but boys together.  She thinks me with her sister, the Princess Yolande.  But I had my own purpose in coming thus alone and disguised to our royal realm of England.  They say my father reigns here once again.  The crown has been placed upon his head by one I have almost the right now to call my father-in-law.  But what rule has he, in truth, who reigns not in his people’s hearts?  What use to seek the empty glory of a golden crown, who wins not the priceless guerdon of a nation’s love?

“Listen then, Paul.  They tell me that in my hands will the kingly power soon be placed.  If that is to be so, I would fain learn for myself the temper of my people.  And this is not to be learned by Edward, Prince of Wales, seated in the midst of proud nobles at his father’s court; but it may be learned by a humble wayfarer, who travels from place to place seeking information from whence it may truly be culled—­namely, from the artless sons of the soil, who speak not to please their listener but as their heart dictates.

“Paul, tell me I have done well—­smile upon me again; for I am very lonely, and my heart sometimes sinks.  But I love my people, and would be loved by them, only I needs must grow to know them first.”

“O my lord,” cried Paul enthusiastically, “how can they help loving you when they see you?  But how come you alone, and in these wild woods, too, infested by fierce robber bands?  It is not meet thus to peril your royal life.”

The prince placed his hand smilingly on Paul’s lips.