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.Touch my hand be not afraid touch it.ened, he came down out of his clouds, and fell to prat-119 Mark Twaintling along so simply and so humanly, that he soon Thou art King? won the King s heart completely.The old devotee moved Yes, was the response, drowsily uttered.the boy nearer to the fire and made him comfortable; What King? doctored his small bruises and abrasions with a deft Of England. and tender hand; and then set about preparing and Of England? Then Henry is gone! cooking a supper chatting pleasantly all the time, and Alack, it is so.I am his son. occasionally stroking the lad s cheek or patting his head, A black frown settled down upon the hermit s face,in such a gently caressing way that in a little while all and he clenched his bony hands with a vindictive en-the fear and repulsion inspired by the archangel were ergy.He stood a few moments, breathing fast and swal-changed to reverence and affection for the man.lowing repeatedly, then said in a husky voiceThis happy state of things continued while the two ate Dost know it was he that turned us out into thethe supper; then, after a prayer before the shrine, the world houseless and homeless? hermit put the boy to bed, in a small adjoining room, There was no response.The old man bent down andtucking him in as snugly and lovingly as a mother might; scanned the boy s reposeful face and listened to his placidand so, with a parting caress, left him and sat down by breathing. He sleeps sleeps soundly; and the frownthe fire, and began to poke the brands about in an ab- vanished away and gave place to an expression of evilsent and aimless way.Presently he paused; then tapped satisfaction.A smile flitted across the dreaming boy shis forehead several times with his fingers, as if trying to features.The hermit muttered, So his heart is happy; recall some thought which had escaped from his mind.and he turned away.He went stealthily about the place,Apparently he was unsuccessful.Now he started quickly seeking here and there for something; now and thenup, and entered his guest s room, and said halting to listen, now and then jerking his head around120 The Prince and the Pauperand casting a quick glance toward the bed; and always it was God s will, we must not repine.But he hath notmuttering, always mumbling to himself.At last he found escaped the fires! No, he hath not escaped the fires,what he seemed to want a rusty old butcher knife and the consuming, unpitying, remorseless fires and theya whetstone.Then he crept to his place by the fire, sat are everlasting! himself down, and began to whet the knife softly on And so he wrought, and still wrought mumbling,the stone, still muttering, mumbling, ejaculating.The chuckling a low rasping chuckle at times and at timeswinds sighed around the lonely place, the mysterious breaking again into wordsvoices of the night floated by out of the distances.The It was his father that did it all.I am but an archan-shining eyes of venturesome mice and rats peered out gel; but for him I should be pope! at the old man from cracks and coverts, but he went on The King stirred.The hermit sprang noiselessly to thewith his work, rapt, absorbed, and noted none of these bedside, and went down upon his knees, bending overthings.the prostrate form with his knife uplifted.The boy stirredAt long intervals he drew his thumb along the edge of again; his eyes came open for an instant, but there washis knife, and nodded his head with satisfaction. It no speculation in them, they saw nothing; the nextgrows sharper, he said; yes, it grows sharper. moment his tranquil breathing showed that his sleepHe took no note of the flight of time, but worked was sound once more.tranquilly on, entertaining himself with his thoughts, The hermit watched and listened, for a time, keepingwhich broke out occasionally in articulate speech his position and scarcely breathing; then he slowly low- His father wrought us evil, he destroyed us and is ered his arms, and presently crept away, saying,gone down into the eternal fires! Yes, down into the It is long past midnight; it is not best that he shouldeternal fires! He escaped us but it was God s will, yes cry out, lest by accident someone be passing. 121 Mark TwainHe glided about his hovel, gathering a rag here, aXXIthong there, and another one yonder; then he returned,and by careful and gentle handling he managed to tie Hendon to the rescuethe King s ankles together without waking him.Nexthe essayed to tie the wrists; he made several attemptshe old man glided away, stooping, stealthy,to cross them, but the boy always drew one hand or thecat-like, and brought the low bench.Heother away, just as the cord was ready to be applied;seated himself upon it, half his body in thebut at last, when the archangel was almost ready todim and flickering light, and the other half in shadow;despair, the boy crossed his hands himself, and the nextand so, with his craving eyes bent upon the slumberingmoment they were bound.Now a bandage was passedboy, he kept his patient vigil there, heedless of theunder the sleeper s chin and brought up over his headdrift of time, and softly whetted his knife, and mumbledand tied fast and so softly, so gradually, and so deftlyand chuckled; and in aspect and attitude he resembledwere the knots drawn together and compacted, thatnothing so much as a grizzly, monstrous spider, gloat-the boy slept peacefully through it all without stirring.ing over some hapless insect that lay bound and help-less in his web.After a long while, the old man, who was still gaz-ing, yet not seeing, his mind having settled into adreamy abstraction, observed, on a sudden, that theboy s eyes were open! wide open and staring! staringup in frozen horror at the knife.The smile of a gratifieddevil crept over the old man s face, and he said, without122 The Prince and the Pauperchanging his attitude or his occupation The dawn was coming now; the hermit observed it, Son of Henry the Eighth, hast thou prayed? and spoke up sharply, with a touch of nervous appre-The boy struggled helplessly in his bonds, and at the hension in his voicesame time forced a smothered sound through his closed I may not indulge this ecstasy longer! The night is al-jaws, which the hermit chose to interpret as an affir- ready gone.It seems but a moment only a moment; wouldmative answer to his question.it had endured a year! Seed of the Church s spoiler, close Then pray again.Pray the prayer for the dying! thy perishing eyes, an thou fearest to look upon A shudder shook the boy s frame, and his face blenched.The rest was lost in inarticulate mutterings.The oldThen he struggled again to free himself turning and man sank upon his knees, his knife in his hand, andtwisting himself this way and that; tugging frantically, bent himself over the moaning boy.fiercely, desperately but uselessly to burst his fet- Hark! There was a sound of voices near the cabin theters; and all the while the old ogre smiled down upon knife dropped from the hermit s hand; he cast a sheepskinhim, and nodded his head, and placidly whetted his over the boy and started up, trembling.The sounds in-knife; mumbling, from time to time, The moments are creased, and presently the voices became rough and angry;precious, they are few and precious pray the prayer then came blows, and cries for help; then a clatter of swiftfor the dying! footsteps, retreating
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