Le Roi est mort — vive le Roi

           Towarddaylightofthesamemorning,TomCantystirredoutofaheavysleepandopenedhiseyesinthedark.Helaysilentafewmoments,tryingtoanalysehisconfusedthoughtsandimpressions,andgetsomesortofmeaningoutofthem;thensuddenlyheburstoutinarapturousbutguardedvoice—

           "Iseeitall,Iseeitall!NowGodbethanked,Iamindeedawakeatlast!Come,joy!vanish,sorrow!Ho,Nan!Bet!kickoffyourstrawandhieyehithertomyside,tillIdopourintoyourunbelievingearsthewildestmadcapdreamthateverthespiritsofnightdidconjureuptoastonishthesoulofmanwithal!...Ho,Nan,Isay!Bet!"

           Adimformappearedathisside,andavoicesaid—

           "Wiltdeigntodeliverthycommands?"

           "Commands?...O,woeisme,Iknowthyvoice!Speakthou—whoamI?"

           "Thou?Insooth,yesternightwertthouthePrinceofWales;to-dayartthoumymostgraciousliege,Edward,KingofEngland."

           Tomburiedhisheadamonghispillows,murmuringplaintively—

           "Alack,itwasnodream!Gotothyrest,sweetsir—leavemetomysorrows."

           Tomsleptagain,andafteratimehehadthispleasantdream.Hethoughtitwassummer,andhewasplaying,allalone,inthefairmeadowcalledGoodman’sFields,whenadwarfonlyafoothigh,withlongredwhiskersandahumpedback,appearedtohimsuddenlyandsaid,"Digbythatstump."Hedidso,andfoundtwelvebrightnewpennies—wonderfulriches!Yetthiswasnotthebestofit;forthedwarfsaid—

           "Iknowthee.