At last he saw him: the rosy boy had tossed about till he lay across the bed with his head lower than the pillow, and was smacking his lips in his sleep and breathing evenly.

Prince Andrew was as glad to find the boy like that, as if he had already lost him.

He bent over him and, as his sister had taught him, tried with his lips whether the child was still feverish.

The soft forehead was moist.

Prince Andrew touched the head with his hand; even the hair was wet, so profusely had the child perspired.