One day, this proud king was sitting in his place at church, at vesper service; his courtiers were about him, in their bright garments, and he himself was dressed in his royal robes.  The choir was chanting the Latin service, and as the beautiful voices swelled louder, the king noticed one particular verse which seemed to be repeated again and again.  He turned to a learned clerk at his side and asked what those words meant, for he knew no Latin.

“They mean, `He hath put down the mighty from their seats, and hath exalted them of low degree,’” answered the clerk.

“It is well the words are in Latin, then,” said the king angrily, “for they are a lie.  There is no power on earth or in heaven which can put me down from my seat!” And he sneered at the beautiful singing, as he leaned back in his place.

Presently the king fell asleep, while the service went on.  He slept deeply and long.  When he awoke the church was dark and still, and he was all alone.  He, the king, had been left alone in the church, to awake in the dark!  He was furious with rage and surprise, and, stumbling through the dim aisles, he reached the great doors and beat at them, madly, shouting for his servants.

The old sexton heard some one shouting and pounding in the church, and thought it was some drunken vagabond who had stolen in during the service.  He came to the door with his keys and called out, “Who is there?”

“Open! open!  It is I, the king!” came a hoarse, angry voice from within.

“It is a crazy man,” thought the sexton; and he was frightened.  He opened the doors carefully and stood back, peering into the darkness.  Out past him rushed the figure of a man in tattered, scanty clothes, with unkempt hair and white, wild face.  The sexton did not know that he had ever seen him before, but he looked long after him, wondering at his wildness and his haste.

In his fluttering rags, without hat or cloak, not knowing what strange thing had happened to him, King Robert rushed to his palace gates, pushed aside the startled servants, and hurried, blind with rage, up the wide stair and through the great corridors, toward the room where he could hear the sound of his courtiers’ voices.  Men and women servants tried to stop the ragged man, who had somehow got into the palace, but Robert did not even see them as he fled along.  Straight to the open doors of the big banquet hall he made his way, and into the midst of the grand feast there.

The great hall was filled with lights and flowers; the tables were set with everything that is delicate and rich to eat; the courtiers, in their gay clothes, were laughing and talking; and at the head of the feast, on the king’s own throne, sat a king.  His face, his figure, his voice were exactly like Robert of Sicily; no human being could have told the difference; no one dreamed that he was not the king.  He was dressed in the king’s royal robes, he wore the royal crown, and on his hand was the king’s own ring.  Robert of Sicily, half naked, ragged, without a sign of his kingship on him, stood before the throne and stared with fury at this figure of himself.