Page:Writings of Oscar Wilde - Volume 03.djvu/49

THE YOUNG KING. 27

burned brightly by the jewelled shrine, and the smoke of the incense curled in thin blue wreaths through the dome. He bowed his head in prayer and the priests in their stiff copes crept away from the altar. And suddenly a wild tumult came from the street outside, and in entered the nobles with drawn swords and nodding plumes, and shields of polished steel. " Where is this dreamer of dreams V 9 they cried. " Where is this King, who is apparelled like a beggar this boy who brings shame upon our State? Surely we will slay him, for he is unworthy to rule over us." And the young King bowed his head again, and prayed, and when he had finished his prayer he rose up, and turning round he looked at them sadly. And lo! through the painted windows came the sunlight streaming upon him, and the sunbeams wove round him a tissued robe that was fairer than the robe that had been fashioned for his pleasure. The dead staff blossomed, and bare lilies that were whiter than pearls. The dry thorn blossomed, and bare roses that were redder than rubies. Whiter than fine pearls were the lilies, and their stems were of bright