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The
startled
Prince
sprang
partly
up
,
but
a
sharp
reminder
from
his
stiffened
bruises
brought
him
to
himself
,
and
he
sank
back
among
his
foul
straw
with
a
moan
and
the
ejaculation
--
"
Alas
!
it
was
no
dream
,
then
!
"
In
a
moment
all
the
heavy
sorrow
and
misery
which
sleep
had
banished
were
upon
him
again
,
and
he
realised
that
he
was
no
longer
a
petted
prince
in
a
palace
,
with
the
adoring
eyes
of
a
nation
upon
him
,
but
a
pauper
,
an
outcast
,
clothed
in
rags
,
prisoner
in
a
den
fit
only
for
beasts
,
and
consorting
with
beggars
and
thieves
.
In
the
midst
of
his
grief
he
began
to
be
conscious
of
hilarious
noises
and
shoutings
,
apparently
but
a
block
or
two
away
.
The
next
moment
there
were
several
sharp
raps
at
the
door
;
John
Canty
ceased
from
snoring
and
said
--
"
Who
knocketh
?
What
wilt
thou
?
"
A
voice
answered
--
"
Know
's
t
thou
who
it
was
thou
laid
thy
cudgel
on
?
"
"
No
.
Neither
know
I
,
nor
care
.
"
"
Belike
thou
'
lt
change
thy
note
eftsoons
.
An
thou
would
save
thy
neck
,
nothing
but
flight
may
stead
thee
.
The
man
is
this
moment
delivering
up
the
ghost
.
'
Tis
the
priest
,
Father
Andrew
!
"
