Truxton King

Prince Robin was sound asleep. His head was slipping side-wise along the satiny back of the big chair, and his chin was very low in the laces at his neck. The Grand Duke coughed emphatically, cleared his throat, and grew very red in the face.

The Court of Graustark was distinctly dismayed. Here was shocking state of affairs. The prince going to sleep while a grand duke talked!

"His Majesty appears to have--ahem--gone to sleep," remarked the Grand Duke tartly, interrupting himself to address the Prime Minister.

"He is very tired, your Excellency," said Count Halfont, very much distressed. "Pray consider what he has been through during the--"

"Ah, my dear Count, do not apologise for him. I quite understand. Ahem! Ahem!" Still he was very red in the face. Some one had laughed softly behind his back.

"I will awaken him, your Excellency," said the Prime Minister, edging toward the throne.

"Not at all, sir!" protested the visitor. "Permit him to have his sleep out, sir. I will not have him disturbed. Who am I that I should defeat the claims of nature? It is my pleasure to wait until his Majesty's nap is over. Then he may dismiss us, but not until we have cried: 'Long live the Prince!'"

For awhile they stood in awkward silence, this notable gathering of men and women. Then the Prime Minister, in hushed tones, suggested that it would be eminently proper, under the circumstances, for all present to be seated. He was under the impression that His Serene Highness would sleep long and soundly.

Stiff-backed and uncomfortable, the Court sat and waited. No one pretended to conceal the blissful yawns that would not be denied. A drowsy, ineffably languid feeling took possession of the entire assemblage. Here and there a noble head nodded slightly; eyelids fell in the silent war against the god of slumber, only to revive again with painful energy and ever-weakening courage.

The Prime Minister sat at the foot of the throne and nodded in spite of himself. The Minister of the Treasury was breathing so heavily that his neighbor nudged him just in time to prevent something even more humiliating. John Tullis, far back near the wall, had his head on his hand, bravely fighting off the persistent demon. Prince Dantan of Dawsbergen was sound asleep.

The Grand Duke was wide awake. He saw it all and was equal to the occasion. After all, he was a kindly old gentleman, and, once his moment of mortification was over, he was not above charity.

Bobby's poor little head had slipped over to a most uncomfortable position against the arm of the chair. Putting his finger to his lips, the Grand Duke tip-toed carefully up to the throne. With very gentle hands he lifted Bobby's head, and, infinitely tender, stuffed a throne cushion behind the curly head. Still with his finger to his lips, a splendid smile in his eyes, he tip-toed back to his chair.