The Greylock | Page 7

the Chief Priest came to her, to ask her what name she had
chosen for the second boy--the first, of course, was to be Wendelin
XVI--she remembered her dream, and answered quickly: "Let him be

named George, for it was he who killed the dragon."
The old man understood her meaning, and answered earnestly: "That is
a good name for him."
Time passed, and both of the princes flourished. George was nourished
by his own mother, Wendelin by a hired nurse. They learned to babble
and coo, then to walk and talk, for in this respect the sons of dukes with
grey locks are just like other boys. And yet no two children are alike,
and if any schoolmaster tried to write an exhaustive treatise on the
subject of education, it would have to contain as many chapters as there
are boys and girls in the world, and it would not be one of the thinnest
books ever published.
The ducal twins from the beginning exhibited great differences.
Wendelin's hair was straight and, save for the grey lock, which hung
over his left temple like a mark of interrogation, jet black; George, on
the contrary, had curly brown hair. Their size remained equal until their
seventh year, when the younger brother began to outstrip the older.
They loved one another very fondly, but the amusements that pleased
one failed to attract the other; even their eyes seemed to have been
made on different patterns, for many things that seemed white to
George appeared black to his brother.
Both received equal care and were never left alone. The older brother
found this but natural, and he liked to lie still, and be fanned, or have
the flies brushed away from him, and to have some one read fairy
stories, which he loved, aloud to him until he dozed off to sleep. It was
astonishing how long and how soundly he could sleep. The courtiers
said that he was laying up a store of strength, to meet the demands that
would be made upon him when he came to the throne.
Even before he could speak plainly, he had learned to let others wait
upon him, and would never lift his little finger to do anything for
himself. His passive face and large melancholy eyes were wonderfully
beautiful, and inspired even his mother with a feeling of awe and
respect. She never had cause to feel anxious about him, for there was
no better, nor more obedient child in the whole land.
The ill-omened boy, George, was the exact opposite of his brother. He,
on the contrary, had to be watched and tended, for his veins seemed to
run quicksilver. One would have been justified in saying that he went
out to meet the misfortune which was so surely awaiting him.

Whenever it was possible he gave his nurses and attendants the slip. He
planned dangerous games, and incited the children of the castle
servants and gardeners to carry out the mischief which he had
contrived.
But his favorite pastime was building. Sometimes he would erect
houses of red stone, often he would dig great caves of many chambers
and halls in the sand. At this work he was much more energetic than his
humbler playfellows, and he would be dirty and dripping with
perspiration when he returned to the castle. The courtiers would shake
their heads over him in disapprobation, and then look approvingly at
Wendelin, who was a true royal child and never got his white hands
dirty.
There was no doubt but that George was cast in a less aristocratic
mould than his brother. When Wendelin complained of the heat,
George would spring into the lake for a swim, and when Wendelin was
freezing, George would praise the fresh bracing air. The duchess often
sighed for a thousand eyes that she might the better look after him, and
she constantly had to scold and reprove him, whereas her other son
never heard anything but soft words from her. But then George would
fly into her arms in a most unprincely manner, and she would kiss him
and hug him, as if she never wanted to let him go, while her caresses of
her elder son were restricted to a kiss on his forehead, or to stroking his
hair. George was by no means so beautiful as his brother; he had only a
fresh boyish face, but his eyes were exceptionally deep and truthful,
and his mother always found in them a perfect reflection of what was in
her own heart.
The two boys were as happy as is every child who grows up in the
sunshine of its mother's love, but the lords and ladies about the Court,
and the castle-servants felt that misfortune had already begun to dog the
footsteps