At length they came to a room larger, more magnificent than the rest.  Persian carpets covered the floor, and the windows were draped with blue and gold.  On a dais at the extremity of the room was an oaken chair of quaint device, in which sat a proud-looking man, pale and careworn as though weary of so much state and ceremony.

“My child,” said the prince, “Do you feel like playing for me?  I am too weak to go to the cathedral, and I fancy if I can hear you play I shall feel better.”

Franz was a timid boy, but he loved to please.  He was always ready to play for his father.  He glanced at the lady, there was a sweet smile resting on her face.  Dropping on his knee Franz kissed the hand of the prince.  “I will do my best, since you are so good as to ask me.”

Franz looked up, and saw what he had not seen before, an organ quite like the one his father so loved.

“Play just as you do in the old cathedral,” whispered the lady, and then she seated herself in a chair by the side of the prince.  Franz saw nothing but the keys, he heard nothing but the sweet soul harmony, and this he must interpret to the beautiful lady and the sick prince by means of his instrument.  How long he played he never knew, but when he ceased a slight hand lay on his shoulder, and a sweet face bent above him.

“To do good, Franz, is the secret of happiness.  This power is yours, and so long as you use it, so long you will be happy.  The dear, heavenly Father watches over and cares for those whose lives are given for the good of others.”  Saying this she led him away to the prince.  But what was Franz’s surprise! beside him on his right hand were Franz’s father and mother, no longer blind, but dressed in costly robes, their faces radiant with happiness, while Nanette looked charmingly, in a white gauze dress and silver slippers.  Franz was bewildered, not knowing whether to advance towards the prince, or to run and embrace his parents.

“This is the reward of obedience to your parents,” said the lady, kissing the boy’s white forehead.

* * * * *

The light of day came streaming through the tower window—­the child awoke.  It was cold.  A chill ran through his frame.  He had been in the cathedral all night, and his parents—­what anguish they must have endured.  Hastily as his numbed limbs would allow, he went down the stairs.  A few worshippers were bowing before the altar; Franz dropped on his knees a moment, and then ran with all his speed out of the door and down the street.

Very glad were Franz’s parents when he returned, and Nanette wept for joy; but when at breakfast he related his dream, the face of the old organist lit up with a great hope.

“I know, my boy, it will all come true.  So long as we love and trust Him, the good Christ will not leave us to suffer.”

Christmas had come.  There were no presents for Franz and Nanette.  Only one could they make, and this was a nice, warm dressing-gown for their blind father.