“Treasure of my heart, I could kiss thee if thou wert not a dirty, miserable fellow!  But thou shalt have naught to regret, if thou art at the church at twelve, for I will give thee money for a supper then.  Joy!  I am a watchman!” The mask looked a watchman to the life, while Philip was completely disguised with the half-mask tied over his face, the bonnet ornamented with a buckle of brilliants on his head, and the red silk mantle thrown around him.  When he saw his companion commence his walk he began to fear that the young gentleman might compromise the dignity of the watchman.  He therefore addressed him once more, and said: 

“I hope you will not abuse my good nature and do any mischief or misbehave in any way, as it may cost me the situation.”

“Hallo!” answered the stranger.  “What are you talking about?  Do you think I don’t know my duty?  Off with you this moment, or I’ll let you feel the weight of my staff.  But come to St. Gregory’s Church and give me back my clothes at twelve o’clock.  Good-bye.  This is glorious fun!”

The new guardian of the streets walked onward with all the dignity becoming his office, while Philip hurried to a neighboring tavern.

III.

As he was passing the door of the royal palace, he was laid hold of by a person in a mask who had alighted from a carriage.  Philip turned round, and in a low whispering voice asked what the stranger wanted.

“My gracious lord,” answered the mask, “in your reverie you have passed the door.  Will your Royal Highness—­”

“What?  Royal Highness?” said laughing.  “I am no highness.  What put that in your head?”

The mask bowed respectfully, and pointed to the brilliant buckle in Philip’s hat.  “I ask your pardon if I have betrayed your disguise.  But, in whatever character you asume, your noble bearing will betray you.  Will you condescend to lead the way?  Does your Highness intend to dance?”

“I?  To dance?” replied Philip.  “No—­you see I have boots on.”

“To play, then?” inquired the mask.

“Still less.  I have brought no money with me,” said the assistant watchman.

“Good heaven!” exclaimed the mask.  “Command my purse—­all that I possess is at your service!” Saying this, he forced a full purse into Philip’s hand.

“But do you know who I am?” inquired Philip, and rejected the purse.

The mask whispered with a bow of profound obeisance:  “His Royal Highness, Prince Julian.”

At this moment Philip heard his deputy in an adjoining street calling the hour very distinctly, and he now became aware of his metamorphosis.  Prince Julian, who was well known in the capital as an amiable, wild, and good-hearted young man, had been the person with whom he had changed his clothes.  “Now, then,” thought Philip, “as he enacts the watchman so well, I will not shame his rank; I’ll see if, for one half-hour, I can’t be the Prince.  If I make any mistake, he has himself to blame for it.”  He wrapped the red silken mantle closer round him, took the offered purse, put it in his pocket, and said:  “Who are you, mask?  I will return your gold to-morrow.”