“He is not fit, yet, for your highness to touch,” said Gabriel, “but if you will give me one hour, I will show him to you unchanged.”

That afternoon there was rejoicing at the palace.  All had felt the influence of the princess’s grief, for she was the idol of the king and queen; and now, as Topaz capered again, a living sunbeam, through corridor and garden, all had a word of praise for the peasant boy who had restored him to his home.

At evening the princess received a message from Gabriel and ordered that he be sent to her.

In a minute he entered, dressed in the shabby garments in which he had leaped upon the coach step.  In his hand he held a little rusty book, and his clear eyes looked steadily at the princess, with the honest light which had first made her listen to him.

“I come to say farewell, your highness,” he said.

A line showed in her forehead.  “What reward have they given you?”

“None, your highness.”

“What have you in your hand?”

“The Book of Life.”

“Come nearer and let me see it.”

The ladies-in-waiting were, as usual, grouped near their mistress, and they stared curiously at the peasant boy.

Only Topaz, who at his entrance had bounded from a satin cushion as golden as his flossy coat, leaped upon him with every sign of affection.

Gabriel approached and handed the book to the princess.

She opened it and ran her eye over the gray pages.  “I see no fiery letters,” she said, and handed it back.  The boy opened it.  As usual a flaming verse arrested his eye.  He pointed with his finger at the words and read aloud:—­

“’He shall call upon me and I will answer him:  I will be with him in trouble:  I will deliver him and honor him.’”

“’Tis a fair promise,” said the princess, “but I see no flaming letters.”

“I do, your highness,” returned Gabriel simply, and looking into his eyes she knew that he spoke the truth.

She gazed at him curiously.  “Where go you now, and what do you do?” she asked, after a pause.

“That I know not,” replied Gabriel, “but God will show me.”

“By means of that book?”

“Yes, your highness,” and Gabriel bowed his head and moved toward the door.  Topaz followed close at his heel.  If Gabriel were going for a walk, why, so much the better.  He was going, too.

The boy smiled rather sadly, for he knew the golden dog loved him, and there was no one else anywhere who cared whether he went or came.  He stooped and, picking up the little creature, carried him to the princess.  “You will have to hold him from following me, your highness.”

The girl took the dog, but he struggled and broke from her grasp, to leap once again upon his departing friend.

“Wait,” said the princess, and rose.  Gabriel stood, all attention, and gazed at her, where she stood, smiling kindly upon him.  “I promised a full reward to whomever returned me my dog.  You have not yet received even the window-full of pink and white sweetmeats which I promised you this morning.”