Suffered at his hands by him that is gone

New glories were unfolded at every turning; new wonders, new marvels,

Sprung into view; the pent clamors of waiting batteries were released; new

Raptures poured from the throats of the waiting multitudes; but the king gave

No sign, and the accusing voice that went moaning through his comfortless

Breast was all the sound he heard.

By and by the gladness in the faces of the populace changed a little, and

Became touched with a something like solicitude or anxiety; an abatement in

The volume of applause was observable too. The Lord Protector was quick to

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Notice these things; he was as quick to detect the cause. He spurred to the

king's side, bent low in his saddle, uncovered, and said:

'My liege, it is an ill time for dreaming. The people observe thy downcast

Head, thy clouded mien, and they take it for an omen. Be advised; unveil the

Sun of royalty, and let it shine upon these boding vapors, and disperse them.

Lift up thy face, and smile upon the people.'

So saying, the duke scattered a handful of coins to right and left, then retired

To his place. The mock king did mechanically as he had been bidden. His smile

Had no heart in it, but few eyes were near enough or sharp enough to detect

That. The noddings of his plumed head as he saluted his subjects were full of