But when at length he suggested this to his companion, the giant only replied, scarcely above a whisper, “I fear she has been slain.”

And so Everychild walked by the giant’s side, glancing at him anxiously from time to time, and seeing despair written so plainly on his countenance that he did not venture to utter another word.

When they approached the great entrance to the castle there was hurried running to and fro on the ramparts, about the doors and windows, and in the halls.  Eager eyes looked down from the watch-tower.  But soon all eagerness changed to alarm.  They could all see that the giant had been smitten dreadfully:  that the proud yet kindly head had been brought low.

Silence reigned in the great reception hall when the giant entered.  His friends all waited for him to speak, to relate the tale of his adventure.  Many eyes rested upon him curiously, yet pityingly.  And when Everychild, following the giant into the hall, placed a warning finger on his lip, the wonder grew and deepened to consternation.

For an instant the giant stood among them, his trembling hands clasping his head.  He saw none of his friends.  Then he suddenly tottered.  He would have fallen had not certain of the king’s courtiers sprang to his aid.  They helped him to a chair; and there he sat with lowered eyes like one who would never lift his head again.

The physician was sent for in haste.  He came and looked down upon the giant.  He questioned him, but received no reply.

Then he looked upon those who surrounded him and touched his own forehead significantly.  “The malady is here,” he said.  “This is no case for herbs and cordials.”

They put the giant to bed and sent for the greatest physicians in the kingdom, including those who were skilled in ministering to the afflictions of the mind.  There were muttered conferences and all the pomp which even the most cunning doctors knew how to exercise.  Later there were bickerings and words of scorn and hatred among the healers.  But it seemed they could not agree upon a remedy.  One suggested this, the other urged that; but the giant remained indifferent to it all—­unconscious of it all.  And his condition was not bettered in the least.  On the contrary, he sank deeper and deeper into the despondent mood which held him.

The others discussed his strange affliction.  It seemed that many of them had known of the giant’s great longing to find his mother again.  For days and days he had been quitting the castle early in the morning and going upon far and dangerous journeys in the hope of finding her.  He had seemed quite confident of finding her.  No wonder that he should be smitten hard, now that he had been obliged to abandon his search.

At last a new, alarming report spread through the castle:  the giant was no longer remaining silent, but was addressing all who came within hearing of him.  But he was speaking only evil and false words.  He was depicting the whole world as a place of shame and cruelties.  He was painting everything black.