in Misdral’s cave.  When his grey lock grew, the fairy Clementine’s fish had said to him, then would he know that he had achieved something great and good, and that he might bear once more the name of his proud race and return home without exposing his family to any danger.  He had reached the goal, the task was completed, he might call himself a Greylock once more, for the curl which was the pride of his race now adorned his head too.

The prince watched him turn very red then very pale and finally said inquiringly “Well, my Peregrinus?” The architect fell upon his knee, kissed the prince’s hand and cried: 

“I am not Peregrinus.  Henceforth I am a Greylock, I am George, the second son of the Duke Wendelin, of whom you have heard, and I must confess to you, my noble lord, that I love your daughter Speranza, and I would not exchange places with any god if you would but give us your blessing.”

“A Greylock!” the prince exclaimed.  “Truly, truly this day should not be reckoned among the feast-days but should be regarded as the best day in all the year.  Come to my arms, my dear, my worthy son!”

An hour later the architect held the princess in his arms.  What a wedding they had!  George did not return immediately to his own home.  He wrote to his mother that he was alive and well and intended to visit her in company with his young bride as soon as he had finished a great work with which he was occupied.  He sent with the letter a portrait of his wife and when the duchess saw it and read the letter she grew ten years younger from pure delight, and old Nonna at least five.  When Wendelin XVI. was informed that his brother still lived, he smiled and the queen followed his example, but as soon as they were alone she cried:  “The land of the Greylocks will be smaller than ever now and even before it was not so great as my father’s.”

When Speranza presented her husband with a son the duchess and her faithful attendant Nonna went to Italy, and the meeting between mother and son was beyond all measure joyful.  Two months she spent with her dear children and then she returned home, George and his wife having promised to visit her the following year in the capital of the Greylocks.

The cathedral was finished.  There was no finer building under the sun and artists and connoisseurs flocked from all parts of the world to see it.  George received the commendations of the most critical and his name was ranked among those of the greatest architects.

Proud of his work, yet ever modest, he together with his wife and child returned to his home.

He found great rejoicings in progress when he crossed the frontiers, for Moustache, the field-marshal, had just conquered another enemy, and by the conditions of the treaty of peace another province came into the possession of the Greylocks, making their kingdom then as large as that of the queen’s father.

When George entered the capital he found flags flying, heard bells pealing, the explosions of mortars and firing of cannon, sometimes one shot after another, sometimes a deafening salvo of many guns together, and a thousand voices shouting “Hurrah, hurrah!  Long live Wendelin the Lucky!”